Land O' Goshen
By Mickey "Daddy" Ray
This story contains explicit Man to Man, Man to Teen, Anal, Oral, Consensual and Non-consensual sex, Rape, Bondage, w/s, sock fetish, etc.
Copyright updated - 2013 All rights reserved
Sixteen years of age is the legal age of consent for sexual intercourse in Alabama. However, this is a work of fiction which contains consensual and non-consensual sex among men, at times with a sixteen-year-old boy.
Warning: There are also several chapters which contain violence. Please do not read any further if these any of these issues are adverse to your sensibilities, even in fiction.
While there are several populated areas in the United States called "Goshen", the area "Goshen, Alabama", which is referred to in my story, is completely fictitious. However, the surrounding mountains, rivers and other locales mentioned do exist. The names and characters in the story are also fictitious and are in no way meant to reflect on or resemble anyone living or diseased, nor should any negative generalizations be implied regarding the fine people of Alabama.
"Land O' Goshen" may not be used, edited or altered, directly or indirectly, in part or in whole, for any purposes without written permission from the author.
"Land O' Goshen" may not be donated, sold, rented or published to any persons, publications, or websites; nor to profit or non-profit entities, without written permission or directly sent, from the author, Mickey (Daddy) Ray.
That gray haired, old lady at the ticket counter sure was mean and surly. I lost fifty cents in that dumb soda machine, but would she believe me. Hell no.
"You'll have to fill out this here form and the company will mail you back your money," she told me.
Yeah, sure they would. I might be only sixteen, goin' on seventeen, and I know I have Southern drawl right out of that Forest Gump picture, but I'm not stupid...and no, I'm not going to say it!
Fact is, I skipped one grade in grammar school and one grade in high school and graduated last summer. I was a good student and only cut off the endings my words when I spoke or screwed up my tenses on occasion. "Was" and "were" caused me the most grief. I was just glad to get on that awful bus and get out of there. Jacksonville made me sad, anyways, I mean anyway.
The old Greyhound was slow and noisy, and it coughed and bumped its way from Jacksonville, Florida to Tuscaloosa, Alabama. A little over eight hours by car, I was told, the seemingly endless bus ride began about 5:30 at night and didn't end till after 8 o'clock the next morning.
It was mostly uneventful and boring, even though it was my first time I had ever gone traveling from my home on my own and apart from my loving mama. The greatest distance of the trip was nearly completed and I slept through as much of it as I possibly could. It seemed there was an awful lot of stops, the longest being in Montgomery. People were constantly getting on and getting off. I stayed much to myself once I was able to secure the back seat so I could stretch out and sleep whenever I chose. There wasn't much else to do and thinking about where I was going and why I had to go there didn't make the trip any more pleasant.
It was cold and snowing out when we got to Tuscaloosa, and I had to change over to a different bus which wouldn't arrive for another three or four hours. Some folks up North don't think we get snow down South, but we do. Some places more than others. I'd never seen it in such quantity before, 'cept in pictures. The February sky was gray and downcast and maybe it was a omen; the folks in the bus station seemed that way too. Maybe they was quiet and unsociable 'cause it was too early in the morning, or maybe it was too cold, or maybe they just had too much on their minds.
Too bored to do anything else, my eyes took in their faces. The white folk's were bare and red from the cold wind, or covered up in cotton and woolen mufflers. Their bodies were wrapped in thick, warm coats as they busily gathered their bags, suitcases and whatnots and boarded other busses or left the station altogether.
I had only a small, brown, press-board suitcase the Salvation Army people gave me with the few worldly possessions I could call my own, some of which were also charitably donated. A couple of days after Christmas, an electrical short set fire to our tree in the apartment me and mama lived in. At least, that's what I was first told.
I happened to be staying over night at a friend's house and got the news the next day that my mama died in her sleep from the smoke. I prayed that was true, as I kept having awful nightmares of her bein' on fire and screaming for me to put it out-but I could only watch her from the outside through what appeared to be a store front window and couldn't get to her. I could see the reflections of people behind me who stood around and clapped like they was watching ...were watching, ...a TV show. I woke up screaming nightly for weeks. Scared a lot of the other kids in that Salvation Army dormitory, too. No doubt they were glad to see me finally leave.
The three-story building I lived in was totaled and a lot of people were hurt and had to find new homes. Only thing they salvaged from our place was some burnt pots and pans and a strongbox Mama kept some papers in. I reckoned that's how they found out about my Pa.
Mama was a smoker, Viceroy filters, and the other story about the fire was that she fell asleep on the sofa with a lit cigarette sittin' in the ashtray. They said it fell out onto some newspapers by the coffee table.
Mom worked a double shift at the Viewlex camera factory, so she was more than happy to let me stay at my friend's house, if for no other reason than to know I'd get a good supper in me and it would give her the chance to get some extra sleep.
Smokin' was my mama's only vice. She never swore and she was a teetotaler as well. She never touched liquor and everybody knew it! But, I tell you-the way the neighbors talked about her falling asleep while smoking-well you'd a thought she was the neighborhood wino. So, after the funeral and all, it seemed like they was blaming me personally for the fire whenever I caught their eye. They never said so, in words, but you cold see the mad in their faces. I couldn't figure it. Hell, I didn't gain nothin' from it and I lost my mama. What did they want from me? I guess some people got to take bad luck out on somebody.
The folks at the Salvation Army and the Red Cross were really as kind as they could be, what with me bein' just a kid 'n' all and orphaned, as it were. The ladies there took a real shine to me, saying I was such a 'pretty' li'l thing, dotin' and fussin' over me like some cute pet they adopted. Ma always said I was a good looker, even though I was real short, like her, and not much meat on my bones. I stood only about five foot five inches and weighed about a hundred and ten pounds soakin' wet. I had my ma's big eyes-teal-she told me, somethin' between a green and a blue. She said my coal black hair came from my pa, who I never met. I had an older brother too, but she always got real quiet and sad whenever I asked about them. I ached to see her like that, so I quit bringing up the subject.
Like my ma, I just couldn't tan, and after a real bad sunburn when I was about twelve, I quit hanging out much in the sun after that. The ladies at the SA said I looked like some kind of porcelain doll 'cause my skin was so pale and my hair so black. In some ways, I guess I liked the fussin', except when they used the word 'pretty', but the other boys there didn't much care for the special treatment I was getting' so I acted like it really bugged me.
At sixteen years old in Jacksonville, if you was...were... a vagrant, you could be convicted as an adult, get put on a Florida chain gang and no one would ever hear of you again till Lordy knows when. So, when some official people told me they located my pa and I would have to go live with him, I obliged them. I was real nervous about meeting him for the first time, but I was pretty sure any other option, from foster care to chain gang, would not be very good.
That's when they gave me a few clothes, my coat, a hat, and this beat up, old suitcase. They paid for my bus fare and gave me twenty dollars for food when the bus stopped along the way. I'd spent less than half of that for a burger and fries in Montgomery last night. I'd been thinking upon all of that while sitting there in the bus station and must've dozed off when suddenly I heard some fellow holler out my name. My eyes snapped open, my body tensed up, my neck snapped and every muscle in my body stiffened.
"Theodore Burrows," he says three or four times before I could catch on he meant me. Shoot, I'd never heard nobody call me out over a loud speaker like that before.
I jumped up from the bright red, plastic seat and looked around. Standin' by the ticket window was this scruffy, little man, not much taller'n me, in a worn out, camouflage, thermal coat and a red, knit hat pulled down past his ears. He saw my movement and came toward me. He did have the most shocking pale blue eyes I'd ever seen on a man, though.
"You Theodore Burrows?" he asked. His voice was kinda sharp and strident. I couldn't tell if he was trying to start a beard and that's as much as nature would allow it to grow, or if he didn't shave for the last couple of days. The hairs on his chin collected in odd groups with gaps almost as wide as the spaces between the front row of his yellow teeth.
"Yes sir," I answer quickly. "My friends call me Skip, sir."
"Yeah, right, whatever! Come on. I ain't got all day!" His accent was a really thick drawl. He grabbed at my elbow to lead me off somewhere, which I immediately yanked away from his grip.
"Excuse me, sir, I have to get on another bus," I told him.
"Not now you don't, kid. I work with your old man, he told me you was coming and asked me to pick you up. So, let's get to goin'!" Once again he grabbed my arm and started to lead me out.
"My suitcase," I stammered.
"Well, pick it up, fer Christ's sake! You think I'm y' servant or something?" He started coughing thickly as I turned and grabbed my meager possessions. I followed him, noticing his reddish-brown, greasy hair that shot out below his cap and lay in thick, unemotional curls upon his shoulders. He reminded me so much of those roustabouts that used to come around our neighborhood with those traveling carnivals. Weather beaten, scarred, cynical, alcoholic, wiry men who you wouldn't trust with your grandma's ol' dentures. You couldn't figure 'em as good lookin', but still there was something magnetic, yet dangerous, about them.
When we got outside the depot we walked over to his beaten, black pick-up truck. I took one look and my imagination soared. There were all kinds of large metal pieces piled in the back carry-all that, snow covered, made interesting shapes, like some UFO trying to poorly camouflage itself with nature's cold white blanket. On the side, by the driver's door was a hand painted sign in white that read "Balls Plumbing".
"You want the job done right? You gotta have Balls!" he snorted a few times and coughed. He seemed to find that was really funny, and I supposed that odd noise he made was how he laughed. "Get in!" he said as he opened the driver's door.
I started to walk around when he stopped me.
"Not over there! That door's busted. Get in here and slide over. Mind the shift, now!" He grabbed my suitcase from me and tossed it in the back with his junk. Being the cheap thing it was, I thought sure it would soak clear through out there in the snow, but what could I say? I was just a kid.
I climbed in and slid over like he told me to. The seat was covered with a worn, grease-stained, old, army blanket. There was a pile of empty fast food cartons and papers, and a whole mess of empty beer bottles and cans.
I moved them about to make room for my feet. The smell in the truck was sour and made my stomach turn some. He made it worse after he got in when he pulled out a huge cigar and lit it. He twisted the key in the ignition, the engine roared and coughed, sounding a lot like the man himself when he laughed. Mr. Balls turned his head towards me to look out the rear window. With the cigar clenched in his teeth, he shifted the gear and began to back out. His cigar puffed heavy, gray smoke at me making me choke. There was nothing I could do, seeing it was too cold to open a window, and even if I wanted to, there was no handle there to do so- nor a door handle either. As we pulled out of the station, it started snowing again, heavier and heavier as we went along.
Before long, we were out of the city of Tuscaloosa, and heading up some mountain back roads he was obviously familiar with. The silence was broken on occasion by his hacking cough in between the drags of his smelly cigar. He reached in back of the seat into the well of the truck, groped a moment and pulled out what had to be a warm beer. "Here, open this f' me!" he said, handing me the bottle without taking his eyes off the snow pelting his windshield and being tossed from side to side by the wipers.
I stared stupidly at the bottle then looked around the seat and cab floor for an opener. "Just twist the top, numb-nuts. Never drunk beer before?" he said, snorting again.
I did as he said but had a difficult time with it. I found the edges of the cap hurt the cushion of my thumb as I tried to twist the cap open. I placed the bottle between my legs and gave it one last hard turn. Beer suddenly rose to the top and foamed up and over, spilling on my pants and the seat of the cab.
"Give me that, dummy!" He reached over and yanked the bottle free from between my legs and out of my left hand. He put the bottle up to his lips and sucked up foam as it continued to rise to the top. He let the top slide between his lips and held it there, accepting the warm suds into his mouth. Then - I guess it had stopped foaming - he tilted the bottle up and began to take large gulps. He downed the whole beer before removing the bottle from his lips with a hallow pop, never taking his eyes from the road. He let go a long, loud belch and tossed the bottle over on my side with the other garbage on the floor.
He happened to glance down and notice my wet pants. He let out a silly giggle as his right hand reached over and patted my wet thigh. "Hee, hee, hee. You look like you peed on y'self, boy!" His hand slid upwards and with a firm grip he yanked at my crotch. "Get y' little wee-wee wet, did you?"
"Ow!" I hollered. My hand flew down to pull his off me.
"Hey!" his voice yelled with surprising anger and he spoke without humor. His thick, red brows furrowed. "Don't you touch my hand, boy! You feared I'm gonna yank that little whacker of yours off ya? Huh? Well, answer me, boy!"
"No sir, I mean ...it hurts."
"Hurts? Hurts?" he repeated louder, watching the road again and shaking his hand with my privates tightly and painfully cramped inside. Though it did truly hurt, I couldn't help but feel myself growing from the irritating attention. "You think that hurts, huh?" he asked. He removed his hand, to my relief, and grabbed my left hand, yanking it across and placing it on his own crotch, which was nearly hidden by his quilted camouflaged jacket hanging over it. "Go 'head. Squeeze hard as you can! See if y' can hurt me!" he shaped my hand into a fist around the lump of his privates and pushed down. "Squeeze it, I said!" he insisted with such a forceful sound, I feared not to do as I was told. More than embarrassed at what he was telling me to do. I obediently tried to squeeze his flesh through the filthy denims that he wore.
Not being very strong, I only teased his flesh into growing past anything my small hand could hold. I felt his thing swelling and stretching.
"Hell, that ain't gonna work like that! Y' hands too small, y' little turd! Take it out and squeeze it hard! Really hard!"
I hesitated, not really wanting to do what he asked of me. I kept staring out the windshield at the thousands of snowflakes streaming towards me like some meteor shower in a space movie.
"Oh, shit!" he said. "Let me get that thing outta there. Hold this wheel," he said as he moved my hand from his crotch to the steering wheel. My heart jumped up into my throat. As he fumbled opening his coat and trying undo his zipper, I was gripping the steering wheel for dear life. I could barely see the road over the dashboard, much less through the white powder and the wipers obscuring my vision. It seemed like forever by the time he'd taken the wheel back and wrapped my hand on his exposed penis. "Now, squeeze, boy! See if you can hurt me!"
I did as he told me to and squeezed the flesh in my hand. It was more like a pumping action, as I didn't have the strength to maintain a constant pressure on him. I squeezed until I couldn't, then squeezed again. He continued to grow and stretch in my hand, urging me to squeeze harder, that he could hardly feel my grip at all.
He felt it, all right.
I found myself staring down at him, surprised at how big the man was. He may have been small in stature, but freed from his pants, his thing stretched its way up to the steering wheel. My hand barely wrapped around it and there were inches to spare both at the top and at the bottom from where I held him.
Suddenly I felt his callused right hand on the back of my neck. His fingers curled around and pulled on my hair. "Damn, if you don't look like a pretty girl!"
He pulled my head towards his lap and pushed me down towards his hard penis. "Put your face down there, boy! Look at what a man's got between his legs! That's my best friend, "Sam, the Cock"! That's a COCK, boy!" His surprising, powerful strength easily had my face pushed hard against his balls as my hand still gripped "Sam the Cock".
The smell down there was musty and harsh, my nose and mouth was rubbed back and forth on the flesh of his balls and across the brittle, bright red hairs that seemed to be everywhere. "Use y' tongue while y' down there, boy! Stick it out and lick my balls!"
I was feared not to do what this crazy man wanted. I figured he could easily kill me and ditch me off into the snow out there and I really believed he might if I didn't do whatever he told me to. I licked the flesh of his balls with the tip of my tongue. Small, tiny pokes so's I wouldn't have to taste it. I did though, and it was a sharp, bitter taste.
"Ah said lick it, boy! Use that whole tongue of yours! Oooh, y' makin' me so hot, baby-girl!"
I held my breath and began to lick with as much tongue as I could get out of my mouth. As I licked him up and down I felt "Sam" get very hard and hot in my hand. He removed my hand and gripped "Sam the Cock" with his own. He sharply pulled my head up by my hair and pressed his cock against my lips. He pushed my head down and worked his cock back and forth against my lips for so long, I could no longer hold my breath to escape the inevitable. Trying to gasp at some air, "Sam" slipped in and-just as suddenly-it sprayed the inside of my mouth with a sticky, bitter liquid I knew had to be his cum! He held my head down on his cock until he was sure I had every bit of what was going to come out of there.
As "Sam" began to shrink down, he kept making me put more of it into my mouth. Every time his truck hit a rut in the road, his had pushed my head further down and more his cock slipped into my mouth. That only shoved his cum further back in. Eventually, there was no place for his stuff to go, but down. I swallowed and wretched with each gulp. It went down in thick clumps. When the excitement and activity ceased and I was again aware of his sour smell, but he continued to hold my head in his lap, his cum supply exhausted, his cock began shrinking within my mouth.
"Ah, yeah! That felt good! Real good, boy! Y' done good by ol' Sam!" He pulled me up and off his cock and put his hand back on the steering wheel. He looked over at me. "Boy, you sure do look like a pretty little girl, you know that?"
I said nothing but sat against the door of the truck and stared out the passenger window, still tasting the thick phlegm on my tongue and coating my throat. I'd never done anything like that before. The closest thing I had ever experienced with sex, was my best friend Ernie and me jerkin' off whenever I stayed over at his house. I had never seen a grown man's dork before and had no idea they could get so big or smell so awful! And though I hated what he did, I sat there thinking how I wish I could make him put my thing in his mouth and make him swallow my cum too! Some of it was anger but some of it was giving me a boner. I guess maybe it showed 'cause he said something about it.
"Well, you might look like a little girl, but the looks of that swellin' in those wet pants of yours I guess you liked it too, huh boy?." He continued to drive, but kept checking my crotch and grinning his yellow teeth at me-those that weren't missin'. "Go 'head, boy! Take it out! Get y'self some relief!"
I didn't move. Well, most of me didn't.
"Suit yerself, but we still got a ways to go! Come on, boy. You know y' want to!"
I did too, but I was too hurt, mad and stubborn. I didn't want him to know I wanted to, but my dick betrayed me by getting stiffer every time he talked about it.
"Look here, boy! Don't be getting bent outta shape over this. 'Taint nothin' but a little horsin' around, and I can tell you liked it! A man gets a sense of these things. Now, go 'head and take that little whacker of yours out and work it off ...'for I make you do it!"
"Yeah, right," I mumbled.
The man suddenly began breaking the truck and steering it over to the side of the road. We stopped. He cut the engine, pushed the shift clear and yanked up the emergency break lever on his left. He grabbed me by the front of my coat collar and put his face to mine. "Now you listen, boy. I'm being nice to you ...you don't even know yet how nice. Y' see, I know where yer goin' and you don't! So, if you want to do what's good fer you, you start peeling down those pants and work on that joint of yours! Now!"
I thought I'd be too scared to even try to mess with myself, but as I unzipped my trousers and undid the belt, I could feel my dick stiffening even more. When I pulled down my pants and underwear, my excitement gave me away by springing out and up like some kind of Jack-in-the-box. The truck was cooling down from being stopped and all, but even so, my body felt hot and flushed, my dick seemed harder than I ever remembered it getting before. My sixteen- year-old, maybe six inch dick, quivered and stood erect like a little soldier. I guess for someone my age and height, that's a pretty good sized dick, but I had little to compare it with. Mr. Ball's was just a little taller'n me, but his dick was fatter and longer than mine.
He still held on to me with his right hand, his foul cigar and beer-breath inches from my small nose. His pale blue eyes darted madly back and forth taking in my face. "Damn, if you don't look as pretty as a girl!" he said again, then suddenly pulled me to him and kissed me full on the lips. He pushed his bitter tongue deep into my mouth. No one, but NO ONE ever kissed me like that! Everything was a jumble. He smelled bad and tasted terrible but what he was doin' excited me somethin' awful! I started pumping my prick real hard and in seconds I felt that wonderful pressure that meant I was going to squirt my own cum too. Oh, how I wanted the strength to yank his hair and make him suck on my dick like he made me do him!
With his left hand, he swiped my hand away from my prick and began pumping it for me. Even my friend Ernie never did that!
I felt the first explosion and a sudden drop of wetness landed on my chin. He cupped his hand around the top of my prick, catching the rest of my cum as he pumped my cock furiously. I could do nothing but grunt muffled sounds as his tongue tried to probe harder into my mouth. My head was dizzy, and in the excitement, I found myself opening my mouth wide, letting him jab his meaty tongue in and out. This seemed to increase my excitement and I kept squirting more and more cum into his cupped hand.
When I finally quit shooting, he brought his hand up to my mouth and emptied my cum into it. I didn't think about it, I just let him do it and swallowed my own juice. It wasn't bitter, like his, nor as thick. It had a sweet taste as it passed my tongue and started down my throat. Before I knew it, I was licking off any trace left of it on his hand until I began to taste the dirt, grease and sweat of his palm.
"Yeah!" he shouted like he won some prize. "I knowed you was one! I knowed it!" I heard him say. "Ol' Clyde and Willie's sure gonna be glad to have you around, boy. Can't say the feelin' will be mutual though," he snorted. "You jes tell 'em ol' Rusty's done his part and got you here safe and sound, you hear? I'll catch you again sometime soon boy, and maybe if you ask real nice, I'll let you have another go at 'Sam'!"
He started up the truck as I put myself away and fixed my clothes right. I sat silently, my head against the passenger window. Rusty, he said his name was. I supposed that were natural enough with his red hair and all. Rusty Balls-if I weren't so upset, I might have laughed at that.
My mind drifted. Oh, how I wanted to act real angry and indignant, but I couldn't pull it off. The things I thought I should have felt, I didn't and I couldn't bring myself to act like I did, neither. I never before felt so confused and frustrated about myself.
It was just after noon by the watch Rusty wore and the snow had thinned down to a slight flurry. We were off again and in about thirty more minutes of twisting, bumpy, dirt roads that were made years ago by loggin' camps, we'd arrived-in Goshen, Alabama.
I had no idea where I was, 'cept that it was in the middle of nowhere. Mr. Balls slid out of the truck and I followed his lead. Woods all around, he pointed to a path off the log-road we were on. My pa's place was 'up that way', he said. I grabbed my snow-covered suitcase from the bed of the truck as the little man climbed back in the cab. He left me there without another word. It sure looked like pity in his eyes, though, as I spotted him lookin' back at me in the side view mirror.
I walked up the path through the snow to my pa's house. I went up to the beaten door; the place was an old tar-paper shack. From outside I could hear the TV playing. The rusty hinges on the patched screen door screamed in pain when I opened it. I reached for and then turn the knob of the wooden, whitewashed, main door that the screen door had poorly shielded from the harsh weather. I opened that door and stepped into the house. Compared to the brightness of the outside snow, it took my eyes a bit to adjust to the dimness inside.
Pa had known I was coming, but he was already drunk. He did not even get out of his easy chair in the smelly, cramped house, but only looked my way as I stood in the doorway. My weary eyes took him in, and there was no doubt in my mind, right then and there, that my life would be a misery living here.
"Close the damn door! Y' gonna let all the heat out, dummy!" were his words of greeting, followed with, "So's y' heah now, boy, huh? Tell me. Did ol' Rusty Balls treat you right? Get you here in one piece?"
He said it in such a way, I felt naked before him and ashamed. He was chiding me like he knew what happened in Mr. Balls' truck.
"Yes, sir," I mumbled in answer to his question.
"Yes sir!? Hoo-wee! Did you heah that Willie, boy? I guess his mama done taught him some propah manners, yah-huh!" He emptied his beer, tossed the dented can in a pile of others like it, and grabbed another one from a cooler by his chair. In a flash it was opened and to his lips.
In the other easy chair next to him was my older brother, Willie. His name was Willard, but he said I shouldn't call him that unless I wanted to piss him off. I did not want to piss him off.
He was nineteen years old, goin' on twenty in March. He barely got through junior high school before he dropped out altogether. He still couldn't read nor write. Ma said somethin' happened to him when he was a baby, an accident that injured his head and made him kind of slow. The way she said, accident, made suspect there was more to it and that Pa had somethin' awful to do with it.
Willie was about three years older than me; our birthdates separated by a few months gave him a temporary four year edged. I would be seventeen in July, and looking around I couldn't help but add the thought, 'if I survived that long'.
My brother and I looked nothing alike. Where I likened to our ma, and was on the short, scrawny side, he was like our pa. He was one big, hairy guy! His deep, brown hair grew out in a thick mop from his high wide brow and stopped just to his broad shoulders. He had a full beard and mustache that gave him the same sinister look that matched our father; except for the age difference, they could of been twins. His thick, hairy arms looked to be still tan, even in the winter and his mass of chest hairs sparkled with the sweat that soaked into his dirty tank top, along with the beer that always dribbled down his chin when he drank. He was drinking his beer from a dented can just like pa and sat in his chair in old faded blue jeans.
From what I understood, Willie was working for the same construction company that Pa was. The only thing he was doing different from Pa was that he had his cock out of his pants and was playing with it. Right there in front of our pa, who didn't seem to pay no mind to him.
I just stood there. Pa eyes squinted, sizing me up I guessed. "First thing boy, you should know there's chores to be done round here that you are gonna do to earn your keep. There's women's work, and your brother and me won't be havin' no part in it."
He suddenly paused and gave me an odd look. "I don't get it, boy. Didn't you live in Flahda? How come yo' so ...white?"
"Don't know, sir," I told him. "Just never took to sun, I reckon."
"Hmph. Well, with that long black hair of yours and them baby blues, you look a lot like your ma, twenty years ago. So's I guess those chores'll suit you.
"There's work clothes and underwear in the bathroom that need washing," he said. "Use the tub and washboard and the powdered soap underneath. Hang 'em over the tub to dry. Y' don't have to worry about cookin' supper 'cause we already ate," he added, waving his beer, "but if you're hungry and you can find somethin' for y'self in the re-fridge, go 'head 'n' eat it." Then he turned his attention back to the TV, taking another swig off his beer.
Willie just grinned at me and shook his rising cock at me, then took in the beer stain on my jeans. "What did you do, kid, piss your pants?"
I'd already forgotten about that, and realized that's probably what Pa was talkin' about when he mentioned Mr. Balls. Once again, I felt the shame and the heat rising in back of my ears.
I sighed and set my belongings down by the long sofa, wonderin' if that's where I was supposed to sleep, and walked through the house to find the bathroom. I had to go somethin' awful.
Inside the bathroom, my stomach almost heaved when I looked at the grimy mess. The toilet I was peeing in, and the tub next to it, hadn't been washed in Lord knows how long. The floor was covered with empty beer bottles, cans, and ashtrays overflowing with cigarette butts. There were lots of well-worn girlie magazines by the bowl. Off in a corner from this mess was a stack of old faded blue jeans, smudged with grease stains, and they were mixed in with a pile of tank-tops, underwear, and assorted dirty socks and jockstraps-my daddy's favorite choice of underwear, I came to find out.
I finished relieving myself and started picking up the mess when Pa opened the bathroom door, walked in and took a piss at the toilet. I averted my eyes as he said to me "We don't close doors around here."
With that, I heard his grunts and groans as he shook himself a few times, tucked it in his jeans, and zipped up. "You got lots of work to do, boy," he said as he returned to the TV and his beer.
"Welcome home, kid!" I heard my brother shout from the front room, then he and my Pa laughed.
Rusty drove his pick-up and watched the boy head towards the Burrows' house from his rearview mirror. "Better you than me, kid," he said to himself.
A man's got to protect himself, he considered as his truck bounced along the rough, rutty, dirt-filled country roads. The back hills of Alabama were no place for a short, weak man to survive, unless he was smart enough to use his wits, and maybe his body if necessary, to keep himself going. A survivor, he made quick friends with the powerful and unpredictably mean local bully, Clyde Burrows. He became the man's willing errand boy and informant, as well as an available front and rear end cum bucket when the man wanted a change from his devoted, retarded son.
Rusty was born in McCalla, Alabama, his real name being Renault, after his deceased, French-Canadian father. He never knew his mother. Story was she took off with a traveling salesman all the way from New York City. There were several ladies in his father's life. He loved them big and buxom, but there was only one that he took seriously enough to have her move in with them. Rusty was only ten when his father met the tall, sturdy Indian woman and her baby boy who came to live with them. The boy was five and already nearly as tall as Rusty, but his brain didn't keep up with his growth, and Rusty began to see himself as the boy's protector, yet at the same time, his property as well. The boy was devoted to his half-brother and dotingly complied with anything Rusty told him to do.
Rusty's dad was a logger and a drunk; a deadly combination which proved itself when he fell asleep in a drunken stupor, rolled off a logging raft into the Tombigbee River and drowned. Rusty was twelve when this happened. His only living relative was an uncle, one of his father's brothers, who lived in Birmingham. He and his younger half-brother, Malachi, grew up there, he doing odd jobs, mostly clean-up, and learning a bit of this and that in home construction business.
Like his father he was short, but his labors kept his body strong. His rust-red hair earned him the nickname he'd happily adopt and carry for the rest his life. He was by no means considered even moderately good-looking. Shy with the ladies, his only bravado came in the form of many beers and bourbon chasers. By the time he was fourteen he'd quit school and started working on his own. By eighteen, he'd lost most of his teeth in drunken, pathetic barroom brawls. Exasperated by his hopeless behavior, his uncle tossed him out to taste the real world on his own.
This turned out to be a wise choice, for soon Rusty began to realize that he had to limit his drinking and did indeed keep himself on the straight and narrow. At least while he lived in Birmingham. He kept a tolerable relationship with his uncle who worked as the desk sergeant with the local police station, and was happy to see his nephew's behavior improve; at least outwardly.
Stupidly, he got himself in a financial hole with local bookie that used severe methods in dealing with guys who didn't pay their debts. That was when, at twenty-two, he decided to move back to his hometown of McCalla and easily convinced his half-brother to go with him. He began to find work here and there between Bessemer and Goshen, where he met Clyde Burrows. They were hired at the same construction site. The huge man took a liking to the "rusty little runt", as he referred to him, and when in the big man's company, no one ever messed with Rusty.
It was Clyde that was able to find work in Bessemer for Rusty's dimwitted brother, Malachi who the big man had nicknamed Blue. That bonded their friendship and eventually they formed a permanent, symbiotic relationship with each other. Rusty never let himself forget, however, that if he ever disagreed with, or crossed Clyde in any way, the big man would kill him with no more concern than swatting an irritating mosquito.
The cold air aggravated his left hip. Still, it couldn't be helped, if Cal wanted a fire, he had to go out to the back shed, collect the split logs and cart them inside. The pleasant thought of lying back on the plush old sofa with his feet up on the coffee table, toasting them by the warm fireplace and listening to his newly arrived CD of easy-listening classics, urged him on to the winter chore. The week brought a lot of snow, more than usual. It was stop and go, most of the time. Currently, it was going strong again.
He gathered eight, good-sized pieces in his powerful arms and trudge his way through the deepening snow back around to the front. He paused, staring in reflection, at the huge, one and a half bedroom log cabin he'd helped his father build so many years back. He'd grown up here, in the back woods of Goshen. His dad, Christian Edwards, was a hard working, country logger; equally as stubborn, loud, and quick tempered with others, as he was doting, loving and tender with his family. He was a giant of a man at six feet, eight and one half inches and sported massive, wavy black hair, which haloed his head in thick curls to his shoulders. Goshen's very own Paul Bunyon. That was an extraordinary height, even more so back then. Locals thought he resembled Fess Parker, the Hollywood actor who played Daniel Boone, only brawnier. Cal, who was baptized Calvary, would have and carry all of those physical traits within his genes.
Cal also had his father's strong jaw, which, until recently, he kept cleanly shaven. He had perfect teeth and a permanent grin with laugh lines carved intriguingly into his cheeks and complimenting the rest of his face. He shared his mother's Irish up-turned nose and beautiful, forest green eyes. He had a love for wood and a natural talent for carving, which he expressed in design throughout the uniquely large and ornate cabin.
Cal's mom was a Northern, educated women, who quickly soothed the 'savage beast' in her Southern man, gently persuading him to the importance of their son getting a good education. Something not exactly encouraged by the general hill population of the time. She was also a strong, hard working woman who, through the hard times of the depression, earned the respect of her Southern contemporaries. Standing by her man, carrying, fetching, washing, cooking, sewing, cleaning and, of course, fulfilling her wifely obligations by presenting her husband with a fine young son she delivered with only the help of a local mid-wife in their first small clapboard shanty. It may have been 1964 then, but life and custom in the logging hills of Goshen, it might well as have been 1864.
Together, loving and committed, they raised their boy to be an intelligent, free thinker. What the local one-room schoolhouse didn't provide in education, Calvary's mother did. Though they encouraged him to try for higher education, Cal completed his two-year college liberal arts course then, in 1983, he joined the Birmingham Police Academy. By then he had grown a half an inch taller than even his dad and, inspired at an early age by his comic book heroes, Batman, Superman and the Flash, Cal was determined to rid the world of bad guys, crooks and villains, earth-bound or otherwise.
He'd worked for the Birmingham police department for 18 years, during which he rose to the rank of Sergeant, when a freak, accidental, crossfire bullet from one of his own men, struck a lamppost and ricocheted downward. The bullet pierced the right side of his abdomen, just missing his stomach and major intestines. It sliced some nerves and shattered bone in his left hip. After a year of intensive therapy, he was back on his feet, but unable to go back to his regular duties. He was on 'desk patrol' for about a year but it gave him no satisfaction. After serving the force for twenty years, he was given the option to retire early. He had received his commendation, a pension, a dinner, a warm farewell, and a 'one-way bus ticket' back home. At his bon voyage party he'd also got a lot of ribbing from his fellow officers about the close call to his 'manhood'. A little further south from that .38 caliber missile, and he'd have been a meter maid! His wound caused an arthritic discomfort nowadays and-becoming more painfully aware of it standing out there in the cold-Cal snapped from his reverie as he reached from under his pile of wood with one hand, opened the door and stepped back inside.
His arms still loaded, he backed the door shut, turned and dropped his bundle in the iron-forged carrier just to the right of the door. He threw off the knitted navy blue cap from his head exposing his thick, black hair, artistically dusted with silver at the temples. He'd let it grow out since he was no longer obligated to keep it at a regulated trim. He looked astonishingly handsome, the spitting image of his father as his hair spread out and caressed his shoulders. His cap landed on the tomfoolery, a hand crafted what-not shelf to the left of the door that his father made and his mother always cherished. Next to it went the gloves. He hung his heavy, plaid, quilt lined over-shirt on a coat rack tacked to the door.
Sitting on his dad's homemade, oversized, boot-bench, he unlaced his pale yellow, leather, work boots; slipping his gray wool socked feet from them. With a contented sigh, he stretched his size thirteens out and wiggled his toes within their damp confines. The knuckles audibly cracked as he curled his toes in and out. He grunted at the slight, pungent odor that reached his nostrils. No matter how many showers he took, he was just one of those people whose feet tended to odor quickly. Screw it, he considered. It was only himself here and he could live with it. He'd smelled a lot worse things in the woods!
He'd wait until he got the fire going before he'd remove his jeans and lounge around in his long- johns. He felt a familiar stirring at the thought of peeling off his constrictive denims. They weren't tighter than they should be, it was just that Cal was big everywhere, and even loose fitting pants were hard-put to hide his generous proportions. Thinking about it only served to increase his discomfort. He rushed to get the logs on and the fire blazing.
In twenty minutes, his unrestricted body-all six feet, nine inches of it, was loosely dressed in extra-large long johns, and was comfortably plopped on the oversized sofa that curved at one end before the crackling blaze of a warm fire. He made himself hot chocolate and gingerly sipped it from a generously sized mug. The stereo speakers on either side of the mantel played Sergei Rachmaninoff's Romance 10, in G minor. The piano and orchestral music softly embraced him. He contentedly looked around the cabin and felt a slight hollow of despair. This house needed family, he thought. Once again, he felt the familiar movement in his groin. Setting his mug down on the coffee table in front of him, he opened the fly of his long johns, slid his beefy fingers within, gathered up and, not without a bit of a struggle, pulled the enormous source of his stirring free of its confines. This time there was no restriction, rather its growth was encouraged! He gripped the nearly eleven inch tool within his large, strong fist and began slowly pumping it, watching the ample foreskin slide over and back from its huge, purple head. He lay back on the large pillows beneath his head, enjoying the warm thickening of his cock in his hand-the pulsing jumps it took with each downward thrust along the shaft. His ball sacks began to tighten, and the heat in his groin began to intensify.
He suddenly sat up with some urgency. He brought his head forward, hunched up his shoulders and pulled in his stomach muscles; he lowered his mouth to his swelling cockhead. A trick he learned as a youth that he continued for years. He never considered it to be odd or homosexual since he'd never done that to any other man. He began to push his lips over the swollen, glistening corona of his cock. His tongue tasted the sweet, clear pre-cum that rose to the tip. The sensation of his tongue licking against the head of his cock drove him to a climatic frenzy. He drove his head down as far as he was able as his hand pumped and his lips siphoned his cum up and out of his cock and into his sucking mouth. He grunted with excitement each spasm that pleasurably filled his mouth with pulsating bursts of his sweet sperm.
He let his creamy load squeeze out from the corners of his mouth only to have his lips catch it back and lube his shooting cock over and over again, prolonging the pleasure. When his climax was completed, he quickly swallowed the huge load in his mouth and brought his lips off his receding erection.
Cal worked his cock with his hand, drawing up within the frame of his foreskin a few final white drops of cum, which he lapped up with the tip of his tongue. Satisfied, he released his grip and tucked his spent dick back into his underwear. His sexual relief was quickly replaced by a sullen remorse.
It was brought about by the memory of his wife. She was so beautiful, he recalled, and his relentlessly horny cock stirred again. During his second year at the police force, he met Katherine Donohue at a charity ball. He spotted her Irish beauty from across the room. Diminutive and with alabaster skin, she had raven black hair and greenish-blue eyes that sparkled with happiness when she laughed. He fell deeply in love with her and they married in June of 1985 a Birmingham church with his mother and father in attendance.
She would have loved it here; he told himself but not really convinced that it was true-at least, not in the permanent sense. She was a city gal, born and raised, and frail-nothing like his mother. He doubted she could have adapted to this in-the-woods lifestyle, even with all the comforts of modern plumbing and electricity he had recently added. Or with all the spacious additions that included a kitchen big enough to house a chest sized freezer as well as the washer/dryer and a clothes table that now stood within eyesight from his sofa.
However, the closest stores were twenty miles north in Bessemer, and forty miles south in Tuscaloosa. Even with modern conveniences, during the winter, one learned to stock up. Travel was at times both impassable and impossible. His nearest neighbors were those idiots in the tar paper shanty about a mile west of his property line. He'd already had a run in with the father about poaching in his wood-lot. He warned the man that if he caught him, or his drunken boy hunting there again, he would absolutely mistake them for deer in orange vests!
No, Katherine would never have been able to live here. The point was moot in any case. She'd died shortly following their second anniversary. Their son lay dead in her womb as she struggled during a premature labor. Complications the doctors could not explain caused her death and Cal never attempted another relationship after that terrible loss. But fate was even crueler.
His father was fatally injured by a fallen tree only one month later and a year following that dreadful loss, he had to move his mother to Birmingham with him while she slowly succumbed to a cancer the doctors could do nothing for. He buried his grief in his police work, and sixteen years later, came the fateful bullet. The memories of his losses were harsh and they disturbed him-his loneliness cut deep into his chest. It was more painful than any bullet wound. He rose from the plush sofa and paced his frustrations before the fire. He wondered why he tortured himself this way with memories-but living alone, his memories were all that kept him company.
Cal crossed the room. He'd come back to his family's roots a year ago and began the steady re-building of the homestead, adding the expansive picture window that overlooked his property and the sprawling vista of the lower Tombigbee Mountains in the distance. He modernized much of the plumbing, particularly in the bathroom, and expanded the kitchen, bedroom and living room.
He stared vacantly out at the huge flakes of falling snow that the cross winds were tossing about in every direction. The sky was evolving from its daytime grays to its evening blues and purples, preparing to greet another winter moon-the second full moon this month; what was called a 'blue' moon. A rare phenomenon, made even more so by the fact that this year it fell on the leap year day of February twenty-ninth.
Superstition had that such a rare circumstance was a serious portent and it foreshadowed odd circumstances and peculiar behaviors-completing its cycle with mysterious and often romantic changes in peoples' lives. His right hand absently fondled his cock through the heavy cotton material of his long johns.
Just as he'd realized he'd once again worked himself into a mighty erection, he also noticed some movement at the edge of his fence line. There was someone out there! Self-consciously he removed his hand from his crotch. What was anyone doing walking out in this weather, just before dark, and why were they coming to his place? He watched a while longer and was now pretty certain that the figure was a man dressed in some long, dark overcoat but he still had no idea who it could be. The heavily swirling snow blurred any clarity of vision.
A thought suddenly occurred to him and he turned to the doorway. Grabbing his pants, he hurriedly threw them on then reached for the shotgun he'd kept on a rack nearby. It better not be one of those idiot yahoos coming here thinking to freeload off him. The only free thing he'd give him is one loud warning shot and God help him if he didn't get the point!
The figure drew nearer, and sure enough, it was noticeably weaving in its tracks. It looked like, maybe, Clyde Burrows' idiot son, and yet ...the now turbulent, swirling snow made it difficult to be sure.
Cal threw open the door, aimed his gun and fired. The shots rang out and echoed loudly about the surrounding hills. Crows defiantly sang out their objection to the intrusive blast. The volley of pellets hit the snow about a yard in front of the stranger's feet, tossing up a great spray at his face.
"Get out of here, you goddamn drunk! I told you and your dad not to step foot on my property!" Cal aimed the shotgun higher. "The first one was a warning shot! You hear?"
The figure's arms flailed about then all at once, fell face down into the snow!
"Oh, shit!" Cal said aloud. "I could've sworn I missed him!"
In nothing but his long johns, jeans, and socked feet, he ran out to the body in the snow. Standing right by it now, he could see it was a small body lying there. It was nearly naked, dressed in a woman's, dark blue housedress, a ragged coat and a pillow case contrived into a makeshift head-cover from which thick, long black hair protruded. Cal turned the slight body over, certain he'd somehow just shot and killed a woman.
Instead, he found himself looking at the bruised face of a small, young boy. There were blood stains and it looked as though his mouth had been painted and smeared with lipstick. There was a contusion just under his right eye, which Cal was certain would turn into quite a shiner. The child was out like a light.
"Christ!" he cried. He spot-checked for any pellet wounds and found none. "Thank God!" he sighed in relief. "Alright, come on, let's get you inside."
He lifted the boy effortlessly and carried him to the cabin. He weighed almost nothing at all. Only a thin pair of filthy socks hung wet and useless on the kid's feet. His legs were chalk white and turning red from snow burn. Who was he? What happened to him? Where did he come from? Why did he come here?
The accordion merrily played polka music. I danced, twirled and I spun and spun until I was dizzy. The skirt of my blue dress, which had belonged to my mama, rose up and spread way out, showing my beautiful legs. Pa and Willie were smiling and clapping. They were standing there naked in the bus station while the music played happily over the sound speakers.
People in the station kept ignoring us until they saw me dance. Then they smiled at me and everybody began to take off his or her clothes too. I couldn't hear what Pa was saying, but I knew he was inviting the crowd to join in on the fun we was havin'!
I leaped perfectly in slow motion, like a ballerina, from chair to chair. Their plastic colors would light up like a pinball machine as the painted toes of my bare feet would touch them until every one of them were brightly glowing-red, blue, green, yellow, purple and orange. It was a rainbow of colors. Pa picked me up off of one of them and held me in his arms like we were dancing a waltz, only my feet didn't reach the floor.
The little, redheaded man from the pick-up truck was there wearing a red T-shirt that said, "You got to have balls!" He looked over at me and said, "Damn, if you don't look like a pretty girl! You know what you should do? You should kiss him!" Then it seemed everybody was chanting at me that I should kiss my pa! I didn't think that was right to do, but I felt I wanted to. "It's okay boy," my Pa said, "As long as you got that dress on!"
I saw our reflection in a great mirror that came from nowhere. My face was all made up and I looked so beautiful, and Pa and I were dancing like in a movie. Sometimes he was all dressed up like a soldier, sometimes he was naked again.
I looked down and saw his fat cock sticking straight up between us. He squeezed me close to him grinding his cock between himself and my blue dress. I was suddenly afraid he would make a mess and get his stuff on the dress, which I knew was really my mama's dress. I asked him to stop rubbing against me, but he paid no attention. Suddenly, I felt that I was the one who was going to make a mess. The pressure kept building up and I wanted to stop, but Pa kept rubbing and rubbing and rubbing. I could feel his hardness pushing into my crotch. I was going to cum and make a mess of my mama's blue dress!
All at once, one of the colored chairs in the bus station exploded like a light bulb. Great yellow and orange sparks flew about and everything started catching fire. Like a string of firecrackers, all the other chairs started bursting as well, spreading the fire everywhere. People were running and screaming, but my Pa kept dancing with me. My brother Willie and the redheaded man were dancing too. They was both naked and on Willie's back there was a tattoo that said, "Was you or were you?"
I could the redheaded man whisper to Willie to go down on his 'friend' Sam, which was bobbing stiffly in front of him. The music was louder and wilder, but frantic and off key and not at all happy like it was before.
Instead of Willie going down, like the redheaded man wanted him to, the man got quickly to his knees and held Willie's cock up to his mouth. "This is how it's supposed to be done, boy!" he said, looking right at me, and he put Willie's hard-on into his mouth. At that same moment, a great, white fireball flared up and consumed both of them, but the man kept on sucking Willie as I watched their skin turn black and then skeletal. I screamed at Pa that we had to get out of there, but he wouldn't listen. "Just hold on to these and breath through this," he said, putting a pair of his dirty white socks in my hand and holding a smelly, stained jock strap over my face.
I could barely breathe from the pressure of his hand pushing against the filthy jock strap over my nose and mouth. I kept pushing at his chest to get away and looked everywhere for help. My eyes caught movement in the closed off room where they sold the tickets. There was my mama, waving her arms at me from behind the glass window! I couldn't hear her but I knew she was screaming my name for help. I howled at my Pa through the gag of his underwear to stop dancing and help mama, but I guess he couldn't hear me. He kept pressing his hard cock against mine and I felt my warm cum rising out of me. I was spinning in the room with pa, cumming, and watching the fire burning my mother in the little room. I squeezed my eyes shut to keep from seeing her suffering. I screamed and screamed, but I could barely hear myself through the smelly cotton strap that covered my nose and my mouth!
I think it was the sound of my muffled screams that woke me. As my eyes started to open, I hoped I would see ma again. I hoped it was her fussing over me as I felt hands removing the old dress from my body and slipping on a pair of shorts that were obviously way too big for me. I was embarrassed for her to see me in her dress, but it was all I been allowed to wear there at my pa's. Pa and Willie had looted my suitcase before tossing it into the fireplace so Pa would not have to go out and get firewood, he said. He kept some of the old dresses that Ma wore, and made me wear them.
I must have fallen back to sleep. I thought it was ma pulling the blanket up closer to my neck, cleaning my face. I felt a terrible hurt when I opened my swollen eyes and as my vision cleared, I saw a figure standing over me. It was a giant with a whole lot of black hair, soft green eyes, and a face so strong that I wanted to crawl into it for safety.
Then things started coming back to me, and the pain I was feelin' reminded me of my week at pa's, the make-up on my face, and that horrible ritual Pa and Willie had with me. The last thing I remembered was sneaking out the door when they both had finally passed out. I had to have been crazy to go out in that awful snow. Delirious, I wanted to find my ma, but once I got lost in that snowstorm, I knew I would die trying what was impossible in the first place. I got so cold I stopped feeling anything. I just didn't care. I suddenly had an image of this old cabin high up in the mountains and an old man waving at me to come in from the snow and get warm, kind of like in that book, Heidi. Then everything went black.
"Where am I?" I asked, the weak, injured voice coming out of me seemed foreign. "Who are you?"
The giant moved towards me, standing in loose long johns, and I shuttered in fright. "Don't touch me or I'll kill you," I said at the top of my voice, which now was no more than a whisper.
I tried to rise up off the couch, but I just could not move. The giant man rumbled a soft laugh, though his green eyes seemed more concerned over my current, frail health than they did amusement. I was no threat to him and we both knew it. I laid my head back on the pillow and closed my eyes. I was helpless. I feared I had jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. "All right," I mumbled, "I won't kill you now, but maybe later."
"What's your name?" the towering man asked me softly.
"None of your business," I managed to get out. I was really feeling the pain now.
"Tell me your name," he repeated as he started to approach me. At the thought of getting hit again, I started to sob, which made me feel very stupid. I didn't care, I just knew I would not let him hurt me in those bizarre ways Pa and Willie had.
I figured I was in for another face slap. Instead, he got to my side and reached down with his giant hand, took his large thumb and, more gently than I had ever been touched, wiped the tears from beneath my eyes. His hand was so huge; he could have cup my whole face within it.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said. "You sleep now, and I'll make you some soup for later when you wake up again," he said in a rumbling, yet soothing voice.
I so wanted to reply "fuck you" in some last act of defiance before I was a victim again but I didn't.
Instead, I watched him, through half closed eyes, walk to his kitchen and start cooking. Just like my ma used to do for me. The tears came again. I closed my eyes and started to drift off. I guess the whiskey my kinfolk had forced on me, the long walk here, and general exhaustion overtook my self-control. I was afraid if I fell asleep I would have no self-defense, but I realized that awake I had none either, really. I sure as hell didn't at Pa's.
I don't know how long I dozed, but when I woke up the smell of herbs and onions filled my nostrils, someone was whistling in the kitchen. I AM BACK AT MA'S! I thought to myself. I actually made it! I actually got out of pa's cabin alive and stumbled to ma's house, and she was ALIVE! Thank-you, God, I thought to myself.
I opened my eyes wide and threw off my covers to run and give Ma a kiss. This had all been a horrible nightmare. I jumped up, but just as quickly I fell back down, the over-sized shorts falling to my ankles. Embarrassed, I hurriedly pulled them up and curled under the blanket again.
Someone was coming toward me. It was that giant again, and now he was returning to check on his ...patient? Prisoner?
"Oh, God," I moaned, and this time I did not just sob, but I cried, hard. I guess I had to get rid of all the tears that I held back at ma's funeral, thinking of my hopeless condition, all the stuff at my pa's house ...everything. I was shamed to cry in front of my captor.
The man simply brought a mug of soup, which was mostly broth with some floating spices in it. "Drink this," he said to me in that deep, rumbling voice of his.
I took it and sat it on the floor. "No," I replied in my weak, squeaky voice, an obvious contrast to his.
"Suit yourself," he sighed, almost as if he was losing patience. But he did not really seem at all upset. When he turned his back, I pick up the mug again and I started sipping at the soup. I would not let him see me drinking it. The first sip was so good that in a second I tried to drink it all, which only resulting in me coughing and gagging.
The man quickly turned and came to my side. "Drink it slowly," he said in his low, southern drawl. He had a moist towel in his fingers and dabbed gently at my face, washing away the broth and the tears. He fixed me another mug of soup. I sipped at it carefully as he changed the CD in his player ...classical music was my guess. I didn't know what it was, but it was soft and soothing. He tossed another log on the fire, turned some socks and things he had on a wooden rack in front of the fireplace, grabbed himself some soup in a really enormous mug, and sat in an old easy chair, looking out his front window.
Beside his chair leaned a gun, and he kept one hand on it. I did not think I was that much of a threat, and somehow I knew it wasn't really me that he had the gun out for.
As I slowly sipped at the soup, I mumbled, "Teddy."
"What?" the man said almost surprised that I had spoken.
"My name is Teddy," I said. I went back to eating my soup and he returned his gaze to the window. "My friends call me Skip."
He said nothing in return but sat there and grinned. It wasn't that sassy kind of grin that makes y' want hit a guy, y' know? But, friendly like.
"My name is Cal," he finally replied after a moment. "Skip."
I finished the soup, and was feeling sleepy again. You got my name out of me, I thought to myself, 'n' you smile nice, but you are on probation 'cause I still don't trust you. Satisfied with that judgment, I drifted off listening with my mind to the way his deep voice softly said his name as though it had two syllables...Ka-el. I remember having a dream about Superman.
Cal watched the boy drift off to sleep. His mind rushed with thoughts and his emotions leapfrogged. He could sense the boy's bravado beneath his frail, beaten body. He could tell the boy had been seriously abused and though he felt the hurt of it, he grinned in spite of himself at the child's futile attempts to act tough. "Brave little cus, aren't you, boy?" he said softly. "Skip" he added as though tasting the word.
He wondered how old the boy was. Older than he looks, he'd bet-just undernourished-probably around sixteen or so, he guessed. About the age my boy would be if ...he left the thought unfinished.
He absently raised his mug to drink up the last of his broth only to realize he'd already finished it. Mentally demeaning himself, he lowered it again, letting it hang from his forefinger to rest in his lap. Stealing another glance out his window, he took a deep breath and exhaled it in a rumbling sigh.
The big man rose from his chair and gazed into the snowing storm outside his picture window. He would keep his ears open for any strange sounds. The second full moon of the month was making the night brighter by reflecting against the snow but even in the moonlight it was too dark to see much. Still, he doubted anyone would try to come up this way. If they were going to, he figured, they'd have been here by now. Superstition or not, the blue moon certainly brought unusual circumstances to his door. He looked back at the young boy on the sofa. "I wonder," he thought out loud and just as quickly pushed any quixotic notions out of his mind. Stupid blue moon, stupid superstitions!
He looked down at the mug in his hand when a sudden movement from the sofa caught his eye. The boy's arms flew about and he twisted his body in small, nervous movements. He'd turned into the couch with his back to the fire. His small hands clutched at the pillow beneath his head, and his knees curled up into a fetal position. The heavy patchwork quilt slid to the floor and Cal noticed the boy had squirmed completely out of the overly large shorts he put on him earlier.
The firelight exposed the boy's naked body.
Cal had seen the boy naked while cleaning him up. The young man was totally unconscious and completely unaware. This time the dramatic play of firelight and shadow shockingly emphasized the bruises and welts on the boy's back and posterior. At least his body and hair no longer smelled of sex and urine. Cal uncontrollably heaved a sob. His deep, green eyes watered. He set his mug down on the coffee table, squatted before the sofa, and gently replaced the quilt across the boy's molested body.
As a cop, he'd seen his share of torn and beaten victims of rape. Nearly all were women or young girls. To him, it was never an easy thing to witness. Most of his peers, no matter how long in service, had a hard time dealing with rape. All of them had wives or mothers, or sisters ...someone that they hoped and prayed would never fall victim to such abuse.
There were few reported incidences of rape against males, for the obvious social implications and the fear of recrimination, but every now and then one showed up-usually when it was too late to help the victim. Gay bashing, often ending in death, usually included the sexual molestation of the victim. The so-called straight perps seemed to be able to set aside their prejudices long enough to enjoy performing any number of perverted sex acts without the consent of their victim. They frequently ripped the poor guy apart by penetrating him with sticks, broken bottles or sharp weapons-after they'd gotten themselves off, of course.
Cal knew that sex, for these rapists, was only a small part of the thrill, whether the victim was male or female. The ultimate high was power and control over their prey. There were all kinds of psychological reasons behind these crimes. In Cal's mind, far too often, the law allowed the criminal to appear a victim as well. This kind of turn-about rarely went down well with cops. "Victims, my ass," Cal thought to himself. "I'd be happy to show those sorry-ass, sons-of-bitches what it's like being a victim!"
Though the boy never said a word about what had happen to him, it wasn't difficult for Cal to speculate. The boy's body, clothes and hair reeked of beer, whiskey, sperm and urine.
When he washed the dried blood from the boy's rectum he could see the tearing and deep red coloring of the abused flesh. And though the kid was no longer bleeding, it didn't make it any less infuriating for Cal to consider how the boy was misused.
The other problem he had, and didn't like to dwell on, was his own feelings. While washing the boy and wiping away the dried blood, he found himself getting aroused whenever he touch the young boy's familiar areas. He couldn't help but be aware of the child's soft, smooth skin. Nor could he ignore the deep arch in his back that emphasized the rising, delicate cheeks of his small buttocks in delicate yet firm mounds. Cal could easily put them both in the width of his huge, right hand. Noticing the enormity of his hand to the boy's body, he felt clumsy and ogrish by comparison. He questioned himself as to why he even noticed the incongruity between the boy's petite body and the ample size of the young man's privates, and that thought caused his own to pulsate.
"I've been alone too damn long," he explained to himself, remembering how at first he thought it was a woman he'd shot. "The boy's practically beautiful, for Christ's sake!" he added, noting the shoulder length mop of coal black hair in sharp contrast to teenager's alabaster skin.
He never considered himself to be anything but heterosexual. Not that he was some kind of puritan, or anything like that, he had his share of erotic thoughts about some guy blowing him, but he just never acted upon them. Besides, he could do his own dick whenever he felt like it. But when you keep hearing that no one gives head better than another man because he knows what feels good, well, you kind of wonder about that.
There were several hangouts in Birmingham-bus stations, bookstores-where a guy could go to get rid of an annoying hard-on with little fuss, and at no cost. Some of his fellow officers made no bones about getting it off in some guy's mouth once in a while. It seemed to Cal that it was the older, married cops that got most of the action.
Occasionally, while on his beat, he'd pass a bookstore notoriously known as the "BJ Palace". He pictured himself going in, sticking his pecker through one of those hand-made holes, and feeling a pair of lips working his mammoth cock into an erection and finally shooting off a much needed release of cum into a warm, anonymous mouth. He wondered if that guy would find the taste of his cum as sweet as he found his own. The effect of that image brought him back only to realize his long johns were seriously tenting.
Embarrassed with himself, he rose up, patted the quilt securely about the boy, and moved away. He gathered their empty mugs then removed his dried socks and the boy's threadbare rags from the fireplace screen. He put the mugs in the sink, filled them with water, and left them to soak.
It was almost eleven o'clock. He wanted to get under the comfort of his thick quilts and into his own bed, but was concerned the boy might wake up in the middle of the night, not realize where he was and become frightened. Instead, he laid the boy's things on his bed, grabbed a pillow and a spread, tossed them on the easy chair and moved the boot bench in front of it. He sat on the bench briefly to put on his warm wool socks then went about turning out the lights, stoking the fire and securing the doors.
The fire's light was at a soft and flickering ember, creating amusing and animated shadows about the cozy cabin. Reconsidering, he tossed two more logs on to the fire to make sure it would keep till morning.
He lifted the spread from his chair, positioned the pillow just so, then sat and spread the quilt over himself. He raised his feet, now comforted in the fire-warmed socks, and began to close his eyes to sleep. The activity melted his earlier erection, but in the dim light, through nearly closed eyes, he could see the gentle rise and fall of the boy beneath the patchwork quilt. Great sadness and emotion swept over him and he wished he could hold the injured boy to him and give him comfort. He could feel the boy's soft, pale cheek next to his own and he could smell the inviting youth of the boy as he was enveloped in the security of Cal's strong arms.
His cock flew to attention. What once was soft had now became steel-girder rigid. Resigned, he reached under his quilt, wrapped his right hand around the offending member and through his long johns, he relieved his passions. Self-conscious, he pushed the images of the boy from his mind, concentrating only on the sensual heat rising from his previously torpid flesh. His eyes squeezed shut and from deep within himself a low, contented growl heralded his swift, intense climax. The viscous mass soaked through his underwear. He wiped the wetness in his hand on heavy fabric that covered his strong thighs. Too weary to get up and clean off, he covered himself with the spread. He had no idea when he actually fell asleep or when the spread slipped off and fell to the floor.
Six hours earlier, that same evening, Clyde Burrows was giving his eldest boy, Willie, what for! The muscular, hairy and unshaven man gulped his beer and paced back and forth behind his son. He stood about five-foot eleven and weighed just over 210 pounds, not an ounce of it was fat. He was dressed in a gray, sweat-soaked, moth-eaten tank-top along with his filthy white socks and his favorite, discolored and cum-stained jockstrap. His face was florid with fury, his dark hair oily and wet with sweat clung to his forehead. The space-heaters in the parlor and kitchen were working overtime heating their small hovel. Reasonable or not, he wanted answers and he wanted them now! They'd drunkenly partied with the boy all Friday night until they passed out. Now it was Saturday evening and the boy was still missing.
"He's been gone since we woke up early this afternoon," he yelled in his thick mountain drawl, his hand unceremoniously scratching at the glistening, black hairs of his sweaty crotch. "Where the hell you suppose he ran off to? It's fuckin' freezin' out there! Where the hell could he go?" With his free hand, he smacked his son sharply at the back of his head just as the boy was ladling another spoon of soured-milk-sopped Fruit Loops into his mouth. Willie's favorite meal anytime of the day or night. "Pay attention when I'm talkin' to you!"
"Aw, gee, paw! You made me spill muh cereal!" Willie whined, brushing the colorful, wet bits off his bare chest. Like his father, he had a large, strong chest covered with massive body hair and he too was nearly naked except for a pair of very worn and yellowed boxer shorts from which he picked off some raspberry-red and orange-orange bits of cereal that landed in his lap. In the process, he noticed his cockhead peaking through the fly-slit. Distractedly, he tapped and poked at it watching it react to the attention by slowing stretching outwards.
"How'm I to know what that fool's gonna do? He don' know nobody 'round here! He prob'ly be froze to death down by the Tombigbee. He's so puny the wind might maybe have picked him up and tossed him into that mean ol' river! Shoot! Just one less mouth to feed! Screw him!"
Clyde circled around to face his son. Grasping the boy's head between his strong hands, he turned the boy's face to him. Willie could smell his father's putrid beer and cigarette breath just inches from his nose. "Well now, son, you may be right! But that pretty little mouth o' his ate a lot more than food! And screwin' him is just what I had in mind! Or maybe you'd like to take his place as m' little woman! You think?" The man eyeballed his son.
Totally forgetting himself, Willie laughed at his father. "Now, paw, don' be gettin' any ideas! You forget, I am a whole lot bigger now. Ah can whup your butt, if'n I wanted to!"
Willie was suddenly lying on his back on the patchy linoleum floor before he knew what hit him. Papa Clyde raised his socked foot and gave his son a swift kick to the ribs. With the same foot, he turned the boy's head to the cracked floor tiling, pressing down on his cheek with his filthy, smelly sock. "You piece of shit! You, ever ...EVER try to raise a hand to me 'n' I'll kill you, boy!" He slid his foot down and over the boy's mouth and nose, rolling his head back and successfully keeping him from getting any air. His large foot nearly hid the boy's face completely. Willie instinctively brought his hands to the large foot on his face, but knew better than to make any real efforts at removing it.
Clyde felt the boy try to suck in air and knew he'd only succeed in sucking in sock juice from his sweaty foot inside it. "So help me! Son or not, I'll kill you, boy! I mean it! You know I do!" Froth and spittle sprayed from the man's mouth. "Now, strip y'self down and go get me my strap, boy!" he demanded, giving Willie's head a last shove.
"I'm sorry, paw! I didn't mean nothin' by it! Jes' a joke, is all. I swear I'd never raise my hand to you! Never!" Willie's fear overrode some of the pain in his jaw from when his father hit him to the floor and the ache in his side where papa's foot met sharply against his rib bones.
"Boy! I'm not gonna ask you again. Get those drawers off and get...me ...my ...strap!" His father left him in the kitchen to consider his order.
Clyde confidently waited in the junk-piled parlor of their wooden, three-room claptrap. The poorly built shanty consisted of two large rooms and a bathroom. The one, and largest, room served as a parlor. It was furnished with an old, thirteen-inch Motorola TV that only received two stations and sat across from a makeshift coffee table consisting of a warped two-by-six board and four cement blocks. The rest of their homely possessions composed of two beat-up lounge chairs, and two battered dressers. They were paint chipped and decorated with clothes hanging from the drawers. Their pride was the equally distressed queen-sized sofa bed that when opened, converted their living room into a bedroom.
This was just one more item they salvaged from the dump outside of Bessemer. Every piece of furniture in the place was some man's trash, but by no stretch of the imagination could it be claimed as another's treasure. Still, it serviced.
The other large room was the kitchen, separated from the parlor by a poorly built, lopsided archway. It held a small, wobbly and chipped Formica table. At three sides of the table sat differently styled chairs, one wooden the other a combination of metal and plastic and the third, an old, wooden fruit crate. Against one wall stood a tall, thin, rust dappled, metal cabinet which held what few food provisions they thought to bring in. The thing was once painted flat white. Now it was tinged with the yellow of cigarette smoke. It was dented all to hell, the door having sacrificed itself to covering a hole in the roof two years ago.
A squat, twenty-year-old Frigidaire angrily hummed its dust-clogged fan in protest of being forced to survive above and beyond its call to duty. It was getting even by souring any milk it held beyond twenty-four hours and making its torturers drink warm beer. Unknown to them, water had been gathering in puddle all along the kitchen wall. The catch pan underneath had long ago overflowed and if the floor had been level, they'd have been slopping around in two or three inches of water by now. As it was, the floor tilted the other way and as luck would have, it slowly drained out through a gaping hole behind the fridge.
The cheese-board size kitchen counter was flimsily constructed and connected to the sink. All of which was obscured with a pile of dirty dishes, beer cans, bottles, and chipped cups filled with cigarette butts. Had Teddy not been made to clean up for the most part, things would have looked a lot worse. Even so, the place reeked of mildew, stale beer, tobacco smoke, dirty socks, underwear, piss, old cum and body odor.
Just off the kitchen was the john, separated only by a small entryway where they stored more crap and hung their coats when it occurred to them to do so. There, Willie found Clyde's strap-the only thing in the house hanging up at the moment.
The thick, black, Garrison belt was worn supple from use. Willie had been its primary target for years until his younger brother, Teddy, had become available to share in its ferocity. He recalled how, years back, it was used only to discipline bad behavior. It was now a tool his father had made to whet their perverse appetites. The routine was set, the body conditioned, the mind molded. All that was left was to go through the motions. He removed his yellowed shorts and went back to his father.
The tall, robust mountain boy walked into the living room. He stood in front of his father-his head down, his clothes removed. He held the belt out with both arms in ritualistic fashion as an offering to the demon God...his father.
Clyde grinned as he took the belt from his son's hands. Appraising the boy from head to foot, he slowly circled him one full round. The young man was about two inches taller than his old man was, but his posture and humility belied that. The boy was strong, tough and muscular. He was hairy like his old man too.
He was also ruggedly handsome, with his thick mop of wavy, black hair, full beard and mustache. His cheekbones were set high, his lips full. The contrast of his thick, black lashes against his pale blue eyes was beautifully intriguing but those orbs were visibly vacant. He was a bit on the slow side, but that wasn't the boy's fault. Willie's suffered from colic as a baby and one early Sunday morning, impatient with a Saturday night hangover and in a fit of rage at the boy's crying, Clyde hit Willie real hard in the back of the head. The three-year-old boy flew across the room, slamming his forehead into the opposite wall. The boy lay there staring back, stone quiet, never crying. Clyde assumed he wasn't hurt, but Willie's mother, pregnant with their second child, screamed at Clyde until he agreed to take the boy to the hospital in Tuscaloosa.
The doctors said all kinds of technical gobble-de-gook neither Clyde nor the boy's mother, Marie, understood but they got the gist of it. Their boy would never be quite right in the head.
Fear of further violence, Marie left her husband without a trace. Her boy was still in the hospital but she was too afraid to come back for him. She gave up her one son, to save the other yet to be born. She would start a new life. It would be years before she even told her second child about his father and older brother. The dimwitted, but beautiful baby grew to be to be a handsomely rugged mountain boy who was compliant and obedient to his father's every wish, failing only with a short attention span and his numerous memory lapses of his proper place in the house.
Yes, he was his father's boy, all right. Very different from the petite, fair skinned teenage boy, who looked so much like his mother and had now come into their lives. Seeing his big, strong, humbled son standing naked before him stirred dark, primitive urges in his loins. It always did.
"Take your position, boy!" Clyde told him.
Willie turned his back to his father, bent over and placed one hand each on the arms of his father's easy chair. The first slap of the thick, wide, leather strap hit him sharply on the hairy, soft mound of his right ass cheek. "Thank you, papa. May I have another one, Sir?" he said, without emotion.
Whack! The left side of his ass received a blow equal to the first. "Thank you, papa. May I have another one, Sir?" he repeated. Again and again the belt landed on his ass and across his back and with each blow, he asked for more.
Clyde had stripped himself naked, except for those dirty socks, before his son came into the room. He was fondling his cock, which was fully aroused. It jutted out at eight and a half in length, but it was the width that was so surprising. Easily half as wide around as a beer can, it waved threateningly at his son. "See what you make me do? You damned, ungrateful son-of-a-bitch! See what happens when you cross your father." He raise his head and spoke to the ceiling, "Thou shall honor thy father!" he said. "The Lord insists that I have to punish you, boy! I have to make you see who the boss is here! It seems no matter what the fuck I do to keep you right in His eyes, you keep fuckin' up!"
He kept up the blasphemous liturgy as he continued to swing the belt across his son's body. Willie's ass was bright red and spotted with tiny droplets of blood where skin had broken. The mass of hair on his back and ass cheeks hid some of the red welts but not completely. The boy's eyes were moist with tears of pain, not regret, and so they never fell to his cheeks in sadness.
"What can I do, boy, to make you listen?" Clyde asked his son when he paused whipping him.
"Somethin' bad, Pa! Y' gotta make me do somethin' bad so's I'll remember to be good and not want to be bad no more!" Willie's poor brain only fed him the words it remembered from repeated experiences.
"What, son? What should I make you do? Should I humiliate you, boy?" Clyde reminded the boy of the word he knew Willie's weak mind was searching for.
"Yeah, Pa ...Sir! You should humiliate me. I need to be humiliated!" The boy's face was florid and he shivered as he spoke through clenched teeth. The beatings hurt but he refused to cry out loud or yell in pain. He reacted as though he hated his father's beatings but his erect cock said something else entirely.
"How should I do that, son?" How should I humiliate you and punish you?"
"You should make me," his brain worked furiously to remember his lines, "...make me smell and lick y' dirty feet, Pa. You should make me lick y' dirty, shit stained asshole!"
"And that will humiliate you, son? Why? Because you don't want to do that?"
"Yes Sir! I mean, no Sir. I do not want to do that. I hate to do that. That's why you must make me do it, so's I'll be rightly punished and won't be bad no more, Pa!"
"Very well, boy! I have to do a father's duty, to make his son be good. Stand up, boy!"
Willie straightened up while his father slipped around in front of him and sat in the chair. "Get on your knees, son!" Clyde ordered and the boy obeyed. "When you talk back to your father, you show your tongue to be wicked, and it must be the tool of your punishment. To suffer the tastes of things you find distasteful will help to remind you the error of your ways before you do wrong again. Is that not true, boy?"
"It's true, Pa, Sir."
"Then you will worship the parts of my body a man does not worship on another man. Parts you find distasteful and unnatural! Do you understand?" he asked his son, reaching down and lightly tapping his son's cock with the fold of the Garrison.
"I understand, Pa."
"Then you shall begin!"
Willie doubled over and placed his head between his father's feet. He turned his head side to side planting a kiss on each socked foot. With each touch, the kisses became more intense. He lingered longer every time he'd switch from one foot to the other. When he kissed each toe through the reeking, cotton, sweat-sock of one foot, he repeated the ritual on the other. He lifted his father's right leg and brought his foot up to his face. Pressing his nose against the sole and in the crevices of the toes, he inhaled deeply, allowing the pungent odor to fill his head. He moved his face in a circular motion, rubbing his hairy countenance about his father's foot, inhaling through his nose and exhaling the air through his lips. He grew light headed and shivered with anticipation.
He opened his mouth and placed the first three toes of the foot inside. Forming a tight circle with his lips, he began to suck on those toes. His mouth filled with his own juices mixed with the sweaty moisture of his father's foot and the acrid filth that coated the sock. He opened his mouth like a fish and worked his way along the toes until each was thoroughly soaked and sucked. This he repeated with his father's left foot. All the while his pale blue eyes looked up at his father's face for approval.
Clyde sat with the air of an emperor. There was no sign in his face that betrayed his complete enjoyment of what was happening. He maintained the appearance of a man in cool judgment and that of an executioner meeting out just punishment. Certainly not that of a man who was getting off having his toes sucked and contemplating the other pleasures he would soon be enjoying. His thick cock was solid as a rock, pre-cum oozed out and formed a drop at the tip of his ample foreskin.
Willie raised his father's legs and taking the cue, Clyde slid down and offered his hairy ass to his boy's lips. The boy scrunched down further and dove in to the dark cavern before him as Clyde draped his legs over the boy's strong shoulders and rested them on his strong back.
Willie began by pressing his nose just beneath his father's balls, kissing and gently licking the sensitive area and thick, bushy hairs that nearly obscured his old man's asshole. The acrid smell and bitter taste of sweat and fecal residue attacked his nose and tongue. Down, down he went, his tongue hungrily guiding his face into the wrinkled folds of skin that told him he found what he was searching for.
He pushed his way into his father's ass crack. Jabbing spit at the hole and lubing it so his tongue could enter even further. Slavishly, Willie licked and pushed his way inside that asshole and began tongue-fucking his father. He made piggish, sucking and gurgling sounds that vibrated his tongue and served to enhance the reaming he was giving his father.
His boy's face hidden from view, Clyde no longer hid his pleasure. His eyes rolled back behind closed lids and his mouth gasped open in hot pleasure. "Oh, yes. Taste it, son! Eat my shitty ass! This is your punishment!" He pumped at his cock with his free hand. "Clean my balls with that sinful tongue, bad boy!" He drove home his order with a swift hard pelt to the boy's back from the Garrison belt he still held in his other hand.
Willie immediately complied by bringing his head up and began to lave his father's huge, hairy sacks. They were already soaked in sweat as he licked and lapped at the wet skin and glistening hairs.
Experienced with years of practice, he gently sucked in his father's testicles, one at a time, swirling each around inside his mouth, then, opening his mouth wider and with a great inhale he had both of them. His tongue moved them about as his cheeks stretched to manage their contents. His upper lip pressed against the base of his father's cock; his nose, the pinkie-knuckle of his father's hand, which was furiously working at the fat cock towering over Willie's face. The boy could smell his father's pre-cum, which had dripped down and coated the man's fingers and the shaft of the considerable cock rising before him, hardened red and gorged with blood.
"Do you know what you must do now, boy?" he heard his father's voice above him.
Carefully extracting his pa's balls from his mouth, the boy stretched up on his knees. "Please, Pa, I don't want to do it!"
"But you know you have to, don't you, boy?" Clyde said, playing out the ritual they had performed for years.
"I know I have to taste what I hate to taste to punish my tongue for talking back to you."
"Then do it!" the man said, aiming his hard cock at his boy.
Willie brought his mouth down to accept his father's cock. His lips peeled back the slimy foreskin as he slid the huge, rubbery head of his father's fat cock further into his mouth. He could smell and taste the salty and drying pre-cum as his spit freshened it with new moisture. The large cockhead and shaft bulged out even more and demanded more room, pushing its way down and stretching his throat. He felt his father's strong hands pushing his head down, forcing more cock in until his lips pressed against the base and his father's crotch. He had the entire seven inches of his father's wide, fleshy cock all the way in.
Clyde began a rhythmic pulling and pushing of the boy's head up and down, with Willie's lips gripping tightly and creating a strong suction.
Faster and faster. Up. Down. Up. Down. Willie slurped and gobbled that huge dick, his increasing saliva poured over the shaft of the invading cock which he sucked up back into his mouth with sensual slurping sounds. His father's grunts, commands and moans only served to heighten Willie's sexual excitement, making him suck even harder.
Clyde felt the tight grip of his boy's throat muscles clutch and release the fat head of his cock each time he dove in and pulled back out from its confines. He felt his foreskin riding back and forth over the sensitive cockhead. The hot spit and pre-cum coated his entire cock in a wonderful, warm ooze. That added even more pleasure to his getting such a great suck job. Now, he felt the pleasant, familiar build-up and pressure of his ensuing ejaculation!
Willie felt the tremendous surge of heat and sudden expansion of the cock in his throat just before it exploded its contents. His father pulled the boy up so just the head of his cock rested inside between his lips.
"Hahn! Here come your punishment and your salvation!" his father screamed as he shot load after load of cum into his son's mouth. Three, four, and five strong pulses of cum were dumped onto the boy's tongue before Clyde's outpouring began to ease up and his cock started to soften. "Do you taste it, boy?"
Indeed he did. It was thick and brackish, but the boy could only contentedly nod and grunt his assent and approval, keeping the flood of cum and his father's cock within his mouth. "Soon boy, soon you'll be suitably punished. Hold on to that. Don't y' swallow it till I say so." Another obedient nod.
"Here, boy. Here's the rest."
Willie felt the first warm trickle of piss that told him he could now swallow the contents in his mouth. His lips held tightly to the cockhead, squeezing it now and again, effectively shutting off the flow of piss and giving him a chance to swallow the liquid. After all the previous beer and earlier pisses that morning, his father's urine was tasteless compared to coagulating ejaculate that was being washed down with it.
Greatly relieved, Clyde knew he'd given the boy everything he was going to at this point. He pulled his piss ebbing cock from his son's mouth, allowing some to dribble from his foreskin down over the boy's chest. He ordered the boy to lie on his back and raise his legs.
Clyde stripped himself of his filthy, white socks then rose from his chair. His spent cock was swinging contentedly. Coming around and facing his son's raised legs, he ordered him to bend his knees as he grabbed the boy by the ankles and bent him back so that Willie's erect cock hovered directly over his own mouth. Clyde tossed his ripe socks down and buried his son's nose under them. "Now, sniff my socks, boy! Sniff 'em real deep and feed yourself, boy! Pass your Daddy's cum from y' stomach, down to y' balls, up to y' dick and into y' mouth!"
With the boy's legs up the way they were, his hairy, firm ass lay warm against his father's cock. Within moments, the feel of that ass aroused Clyde's cock to further action. Even if he wasn't ready to cum, he was hard enough to shove it inside that hot ass. He bent down and hurled a massive load of spit, perfectly landing at the boy's asshole. Holding both the boy's ankles in one hand, he used his free hand to shove his cock up Willie's hairy asshole. Once he started the journey down inside that warm tunnel, he returned to holding the boy's legs with both hands and started working his cock in and out of the boy's ass. More immediately than he could have imagined his load built up and jettisoned furiously into his son's tight asshole.
The heavy odor of his father's socks drove Willie crazy. He masturbated himself vigorously, and when he felt his father's cock up his ass and the sudden, warm gush of cum blasting up his hole, that was the trigger that would fire his own pent up explosion of cum. He aimed those creamy bullets directly into his mouth as instructed, spilling only very little on his full beard. Grunting, shooting and hungrily swallowing, Willie came again and again into his mouth, encouraged by the push of that fat cock against his prostate. When Willie stopped shooting, his father slipped his cock from the boy's ass, released his legs and let him stretch out on the floor. Seeing Clyde standing up over him, his strong, towering legs on either side of his hips, Willie grinned, released his own cock and gently stroked his father's feet with one hand and held the treasured socks from those feet against his nose with the other.
"Go 'head, boy. Clean it off!" Clyde said.
Willie rose up from his waist, his father's socks slipping off his face and down to his crotch. With his hand, he took his father's slightly shit stained cock to his mouth. He licked and lapped it clean, then lay back down between the man's legs and returned the socks to his nose. He had a woeful look in his eyes that his father understood.
Clyde raised his right foot to his boy's face, pressing it against the socks beneath. Willie closed his eyes, hugged the socks and foot to his face, kissed the sole of his father's foot and inhaled deeply through his nose.
"I love you, pa," he exhaled.
"I know, boy. I know. But, we gotta get dressed now. We still gotta find that brother of yours."
Willie's expression of contentment never changed, but his mind clouded over darkly. He hated his little brother. He knew the kid just wanted to take his father from him. That was never going to happen.
It took me forever to wake up. I wanted to, but my mind and my body didn't seem like they was going to work together on that idea. I felt so heavy and groggy; I must've stayed asleep lying on one spot because my side was real achy and my pillow was wet from drool.
When I did finally get myself to sitting up, I near panicked to find my clothes missing, then I discovered the shorts the giant must've put on me squished beneath the quilt and sofa cushion. I tried to put them on, but when I stood up, dizzy-like, they just fell down again, so I knew it was useless to keep trying. I left them on the floor and I wrapped the quilt around me and looked around to see if I could spot the bathroom.
I saw the giant-man sleeping in the chair by the picture widow; a quilt like the one I had was on the floor next to him. At the window I could see that it had stopped snowing. The sky was all lit up in the reds, yellows, blues, and purples of the early morning sunrise. It looked so beautiful; I remembered thinking how mama would have like seeing that.
Ka-el, or Cal, I remembered correctly, was stretched as far as his big body could be, from his chair to some kind of bench he rested his feet on. My, they were big feet, too, I thought. So were his hands. I figured everything about him must be big and caught myself staring at his crotch. His long johns looked stained, like he'd gotten himself off in his pants. Where the fly was, I could see the smallest amount of flesh barely peeking out, along with a few black hairs as well. I tiptoed over and bent down to get a closer look.
Yeah, he definitely shot a load in his johns. I could smell that distinctive odor that only stale cum smells like. I noticed something else even stronger. It was like ...buttered, cheese popcorn to my recollection, warm-a little offensive-but nice too. I looked down and realized it was coming from his socked feet. I quietly walked around and squatted down in front of them. His right foot moved and crossed over the left suddenly and I flinched in surprise, falling back on my butt, thinking he was waking up. His eyes were still shut and he made no further movements.
I couldn't get over how big those feet of his were...bagger's my head. I rose to my knees and I brought my face closer and breathed in the odor of his gray, wool socks. I don't know why, I can't explain it, but as sharp and nasty as it was, I found myself drawn to them. I leaned in even closer and touched the sole of his right foot with my nose then my left cheek. It was warm and soft, and somehow comforting. I wanted to grab his foot and hold it close to me, like a child would a stuffed toy. Instead, I backed away and stood up-embarrassed at my silly thoughts and myself.
Recalling what I was going to do in the first place, I looked around the house to find the bathroom. I couldn't believe how big everything was in this place. The ceilings were really high up and the doorways were enormous. I felt like Jack, caught in the giant's house.
Turning away from the window, I could see the kitchen to the right so I went over to the archway to the left of the fireplace. The fire had long since died down and it now only glowed dimly with warm embers. On the other side of the arch was obviously the bedroom. The bed in there was huge! A bit further in, was another door to the right. I'd found it and none too soon. I dropped the quilt from my shoulders and held my anxious dick over the bowl. I peed so long and loud, I didn't hear the giant's footsteps.
"How're we feeling?" he said.
I was so stunned, I turned automatically toward him in shock, still pissing, and squirted him on the legs. Realizing what I'd done, I tried correcting my aim and passed over the bowl pissing in the other direction. Fumbling my apologies, I finally got my last few drops in the right place. I suddenly realized I couldn't zip up pants that I didn't have on, I was bare-ass naked in this man's bathroom and I just peed on him and practically everything else in the room. I was both ashamed and scared. What would he do to me? I could only stand there shaking, trembling, and stuttering, " I ...I ...I!"
He just stood there at first, opened mouth and stunned. Then his huge, bearded face crinkled up, his eyes shut tight, and he began laughing hysterically! It was a strong, low, vibrating laugh that sent shivers down my skin, making it bump and raising what few hairs I had covering it. I just pissed on him and he was laughing at me! My shame and fear disappeared. Now I was mad! I bent down and grabbed the quilt and tromped past him and out of the bathroom. How dare he laugh at me!
I flopped myself on his sofa, my legs tucked under me and fumed. I could hear his need to piss from out here. As I sat and replayed it in my mind, I found myself trying hard to hold in the grin that was forcing itself to my face. Now his long johns had piss as well as cum stains on them! I heard myself nervously giggling as I caught him from the corner of my eye standing there watching me. He was still grinning. My, he was one, big, handsome stunner I thought.
"These things needed washing anyway!" he said, in his deep Southern drawl while pulling at a pinch of the long johns' material where he'd messed it up himself.
"I'm sorry," I said, my anger was gone as quickly as it came and I could barely disguise the laugh rising up in my throat.
"It's okay. Really. Why don't I get us some towels, and we can shower up and get ready for some good ol' country breakfast. I'll see if I can't find you something to throw on. May have to cinch in the waist some, but I'm sure we can manage. Come on back in the bedroom and let's see what we can do!"
I wasn't sure what he meant by that, but something about his face, his smile, his voice-I just knew I'd be okay. I got off the sofa and trailed behind him to the bedroom. He'd already undressed. The soiled underwear lay in a pile at the bottom of the bed.
"So, let's see. You're about a 26 waist and, oh...26-28 inseam, right?" he asked. He was totally relaxed, as though he'd always stood naked in front of strangers and talked about clothes.
I just shrugged. I had no idea. Ma always bought my clothes, so I didn't know how big a pants I wore.
He grabbed a pair of cut up denim shorts from a drawer and held them up. "These should do it!" He pulled the quilt from me and held the shorts to my bare waist. Damn, if they didn't almost reach down to my ankles! They also looked like I could swim in them, too. "Like I said, we'll have to belt 'em up a bit," he grinned.
He walked over to a recess in the wall and took two big towels from the linens he kept on some wooden shelves. "Let's do it!" he said, and went toward the bathroom.
He pulled the shower curtain back exposing just how expansive the tub actually was, and began to adjust the hot and cold water pouring from the tap. When he was evidently satisfied, he pulled a knob and the showerhead began to spray the warm water into the tub. He stood there and like some fancy waiter offering a chair as he directed me to the tub.
"To...together?" I stammered.
"Well, this may look like a luxury hotel," he grinned, "but it's only got one small water heater which allows one shower per day. So...no need to be shy now, hmmm? I guess I've seen everything about you there is to be seen by now. Wouldn't you agree?"
I couldn't argue with that and after what I'd been through this past week a clean shower with a naked man would seem nothing at all. I stepped in. Boy, was I surprised. The rim of the tub came up to my thighs.
"Careful now," he said, "I built it myself. That's why it's so deep. The tub's mostly sunk into an insulated box in the ground below the flooring. Otherwise, I could never even get my hair wet with that showerhead. Go 'head. Get yourself wet down first then I'll get under."
I noticed from down here how much higher up the showerhead was than when I stood outside the tub. The warm water felt so good. Stung some too, on parts of my back and butt where Pa strapped me. I'd almost forgotten. Now I was embarrassed again.
"Okay, switch places!" he said, bringing me back to the moment, and we edged around each other. The tub may have been long and deep, but it wasn't all that wide. I felt his fleshy cock actually sweep past the small of my back!
I turned to him and watch him from behind as he took soap to his body and let the spray wet his hair. His huge hands guided the water and soap down along his shoulders and then his chest. My eyes came even with just below his shoulder blades. Trails of soapy water streamed down his back in little rivers tracing his muscles and soaking the fine hairs on his ass cheeks. He turned around and I was staring at his chest. He was hairy, but not like my Pa. Pa's hair was scratchy and curly. I first noticed in the bedroom that Cal's hair was dark, like Pa's all right, but it spread out in soft tufts as though God had whispered it onto his body. Now the water flattened it out and it followed the shape of his body's curves and muscles. I backed away some, feeling his swinging cock hit against my stomach as he scrubbed himself with the pine scented lather.
"Turn around. I'll soap you up!" he offered. I did turn around, but not so's I wanted to. What I wanted was to look at him some more.
Then I felt his firm hands, filled with soap, rubbing gently across my shoulders, kneading my neck muscles and working their way down. He reached under my arms, soaping them as he went, and his hands wrapped around my small chest, lathering and rubbing there way down towards my stomach. I felt myself being pulled back to him as he continued to wash me down. The closer I backed into him, the more his big arms wrapped around me.
I looked down and watch his strong hairy forearms as they followed his hands down to my privates. That's when I saw he had a bit of the soap bar in one hand as he began to lather my pubic hair. I found myself totally pressed against him and melting away in his enormous arms. The steam from the hot water grew thick, and blurry water droplets played tag with each other on their way down the shower curtain. The only sound was the spraying water and his soft voice murmuring, I couldn't make out what. My mind drifted away and I found myself just feeling, not thinking.
One of his hands began to gently lather and fondle my testicles, the other squeezed the soap along my stiffening cock. Until I felt his chin on my shoulder, I hadn't realized he'd lowered himself to his knees and somehow gotten me on mine as well.
When I fell back on him, I felt his erection underneath the crack of my cheeks. It was so hot and felt so huge. I couldn't imagine putting anything so big inside me, but it felt so good rubbing against it, before I knew it, I felt my cock jumping and spewing cum as he kept pumping the lubricating soap along it. Over and over, I came, and still he kept pumping me.
I'd stopped feeling anything coming out of my cock, but beneath me I felt warm splashes against my ass cheeks and thighs. The warm water kept spraying on us, rinsing away traces of soap and cum from our bodies.
In what seemed one easy movement, he lifted us both from our kneeling positions. He turned me to him and looked down into my eyes. "I'm sorry!" he said. "I don't know why I did that! Please. Please forgive me! Oh, God, I don't know...I don't know..."
I looked up into his eyes. They were so green! And they were full of tears, too. He was crying! He thought he hurt me and he was crying! Then I started crying, which made him cry even more and he fell to his knees again and held me close to him. We stayed that way under the falling water, crying in each other's arms until we were both shocked by the sudden loss of the hot water we'd spent mostly crying through.
Yelling and laughing, we shut off the freezing water, threw open the curtain and Cal jumped from the tub, picked me up light as a feather and set me down gently on the soft bath matt. He grabbed a big towel and threw it around me immediately and held me close to him as I shivered from the cold blast. Even wet from cold water, I could feel his strength and warmth. A wave of emotions swept over me and I looked up again into his eyes. He bent down and kissed me softly on my forehead.
At Milo's bar, off the beaten path between Hueytown and Bessemer, Peaceable Drummer laid two well-worn bills on the bar. He picked up the glasses of beer, suds overflowing and dripping, and he carried them over to one of the corner booths. He set them down and walked swiftly back to grab a whole stack of paper napkins from the red plastic holder that sat between an ashtray and a jar of pickled eggs. He returned to the table and proceeded to methodically mop up the forming puddles and neatly placed the beer glasses on their own paper dais.
"I hate a mess. Don't you? Don't you just hate a mess?" he said quickly in a southern drawl reminiscent of Henry Gibson, 'poet laureate' on the old Laugh-In television show. The unsympathetic listener was Rusty Balls. A local plumber who occasionally worked for construction crews, he was a sometimes handy-man and an always freeloading alcoholic!
Peaceable, that was his real name, was born the middle son of a preacher's family of seven boys. At thirty-four, he'd found his mark in the world by performing the labors of his inherited name, Drummer, a traveling salesman. His product lines were women's personal garments, make-up, and scents for those of modest behavior. For the more adventurous of his clients, he carried an assortment of the latest sex toys and other bedroom items. These could be used for self-satisfaction, or for sharing with their mates. Demonstrations on how to use some of these deviant little devices could be made available by appointment.
He was tall and skinny. He had a beaked nose and sported thinning, slick-backed hair, the color of muddy water, and a hairline mustache dyed shoe polish black, like his sideburns. His eyes were a soft brown and sincere and though he was a little neurotic and a tad flighty, he smiled a lot and had a way of ingratiating himself to women that made him successful at his job.
He was compulsive about his cleanliness, right down to his polished, manicured nails. His sense of clothing style never changed though, once he discovered polyester pants at an old flea market years ago. He loved how the tight knits clung to every part of his anatomy. Some parts showed themselves in the extreme, and he had an assortment of colors and patterns he'd collected over time. He especially loved the white, polyester jeans he now wore. They left nothing to the imagination, and there was a great deal to see!
The women on his route loved him. The men tolerated his irritating banter and tiny movements because Peaceable knew secrets ...lots of secrets. And he had a way of getting other hard-to-get products that they occasionally had a need for. Strictly cash and under the table. Demonstrations also possible by appointment!
Rusty nodded his appreciation for the beer and reached into his shirt pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes. He left his cigars in the truck.
"You're not gonna smoke that now, are you?" Peaceable asked, shocked. "I mean, if you are, then I'm not sittin' here and you can just go and get your own beers!" He sat back stiffly and folded his arms. "Those things aren't good for you, you know. They'll kill you one of these days! You mark my words!"
Grudgingly, Rusty stuffed them back in his pocket and grabbed a swig from his beer glass as if to mark it permanently his by default; his lips touched it!
"Well, okay, Peace, let's give! What was you gonna tell me about Elrod and Rode Wilson?" Rusty loved the salesman's nasty little stories. Peace seemed to know everything about everybody's little secrets. The mystery of the lifelong feud between the Wilson siblings was about to be uncovered, and Rusty would be the first to know what it was. Well, the first after Peaceable, of course!
Seeing his friend's curiosity peaked, Peace's tiff melted away and his businessman's façade gave way. "Un-uh. Not so fast there, Mr. Balls! I got your beers and I got the story for you. What do you have for me?" This was the start of their little game.
"Well, just how good is this story?" Rusty asked. He knew in the end that no one would loose on the deal, but that going through the motions was part of the fun. Each knew what the other wanted.
"Oh, it's a beauty! Believe me; you are going to turn somersaults from here to Mobile when you hear it! And," Peace leaned in then looked about the bar conspiratorially, "I've got pictures to prove it true!"
"Ooh-whee-hoo!" Rusty drew out his long, snort-type laugh, his lips spread to show the gap between his upper front teeth and the yellow of those remaining. His face reddened with anticipation and he dribbled a bit of his beer when he took another drink. "Okay, okay!" his head shaking, "I'll help you fix the plumbing in that extension you're building. Whatssit? Your playroom, you called it?"
Peace pulled out a sheet of paper. "Oh, no you don't! You already owe me that! See, right here, for tellin' you 'bout ol' man Curtis and why his own goats are so scared of him! Besides, you'll be wantin' to use that room plenty enough when it's finished!"
There it was in writing. The deal, the story and his X. Peace didn't miss a trick! Rusty relented. "Damn! So, what do you want?"
Peace gave that knowing grin. "Oh, I want your plumbing services, all right, but not on any metal pipes! I'm saying, this story's so good, to hear it, you gotta give me five minutes of head right here in Milo's bar ...in the john!"
There it was. The deal. A great story in exchange for a blowjob.
This wouldn't be the first time Rusty had to pay such a price for one of Peace's tidbits of juicy gossip, but doing it here, in the bar, where someone might catch them? This was new! Scary, but exciting too. Still, Rusty knew not to give in at the first demand. Resisting was also part of the fun.
"Well, now I know'd you lost your mind!" he told Peace. Watching Peace get up and take their now empty glasses to the bar, Rusty continued his argument quietly to himself. "No way! No how! Not today. Not tomorrow, nor next week, next month or next year! That's ridiculous! I never heard of anything so ridiculous!" he went on, shaking his head and slapping his fists on his thighs, convincing no one of his indignation.
"I mean, you can't seriously expect me to walk in that nasty toilet, get on my knees and start sucking on that big pipe of yers right here in front o' God and everybody that might walk in and have to take a piss? Can you?" he finished just as Peace returned.
"Well, for one thing, I don't think God ever needs to piss and if He did, He surely wouldn't come in this dump to do it!" Peace handed Rusty his fresh glass of beer, replacing the wet napkins with new dry ones. "And if you'll look around, you'll notice we're the only ones in here right now. So, make the deal quick like, and we can be in and out before you know it!" He stood before Rusty, his crotch even with the man's face. His stretch white pants gave way to the swelling of his cock as it slithered downward unencumbered by underwear. The devil left Georgia and settled in Goshen, Alabama.
Rusty subconsciously licked his lips as he watched Peace reach in his right pocket and observed the detailed outline of the man's hand grabbing and adjusting the growing cock. Everybody knew Peaceable cut out all the right hand pockets of his pants for easy access. He left just enough material to appear as though the pocket was in tact. When Peace removed his hand, his erection was pointing down and to the far right along his thigh as though it would circumnavigate it, if it could.
"Oh, all right! All right!" Rusty relented. "But that includes seeing those pictures you mentioned too!"
"Absolutely, Rusty! I am a man of my word!" That was true. You just had to listen carefully to the words the devil used! But with Rusty, he always came through...in more ways than one. "C'mon, le's go 'fore others do start coming in!"
Rusty raised his five-foot, six and a half inches up from the booth and headed to the bathroom with Peaceable directly in back. Their coats and beers they left safely behind. The little man never noticed the furtive wink that Peace gave Milo Fortner, the owner and bartender, as he followed Rusty to the rear of the bar to the men's room.
When they were inside, Rusty turned and put the little eye-hook in its place to secure their privacy. He then moved past the sink and the urinal to the toilet which nearly hugged the back wall of the bar. The toilet lid had long since been busted off, so Rusty pulled down the straps of his overalls, letting them fall to the floor as he sat down on the wooden seat. There were no walls separating the bowl from the urinal. This, and the lack of toilet paper, was to discourage its normal use as much as possible. The room was a good size and not particularly clean but it served its purpose.
All the plumbing fixtures were on the west wall of the bathroom, behind which was the parking lot. The opposite, eastern wall was shared with the storage room that was behind it and held the bar's supplies, liquor and beer cases, both full and empty.
Peaceable leaned against the eastern wall, opposite Rusty and next to a Playboy bunny picture plastered on the wall. His crotch was about even with the man's forehead. He opened his belt and unzipped his fly. He moved purposely just to the left of Rusty towards the north wall of the john, his head was just below a small ventilation window that was at the back of the building.
"Okay, Rusty. Take it out for me! Your five minutes starts the second your lips are on it. Understand?" Peace stood above the little man on the toilet, tapped his watch and felt him grope into the tight pants to release his straining hard-on. At a slightly uncomfortable angle, Rusty freed the long, snake of a cock from its polyester confines.
"God! But you sure do have a long fucker, Peace!" Rusty told him. He reached in and released Peace's balls as well. He held Peace's warm nuts with his left hand as he worked the cock before him with his right, bringing it to full erection.
"No fair jacking me off, Rusty!" Peace insisted. "You got suck it off and swallow every drop too," he paused, "that is, if I cum in five minutes!"
"Hey! You never said nothing about having to swallow your cum!" Rusty protested weakly.
"You want to hear that story and see them pictures?" Peace received no further protest but enjoyed the warm, wet feeling of moist lips around the head of his cock.
Peaceable's cock wasn't thick, but it was an amazingly long and uncircumcised piece of meat. As Rusty began the chore of slurping and gradually taking more and more of that hot cock into his mouth, Peace felt it snaking down the little man's throat. Rusty's spit lubed it easily in and out and the hard gums from the gap of missing front teeth added a special feeling that made his cocksucking so worthwhile to Peace.
Though only a moment or two had passed, Peace was getting too worked up to hold out any longer. He reached both hands to either side of Rusty's head and began to fuck the little man's mouth and throat. Rusty placed both his hands to work on Peace's balls, rubbing and squeezing them. Then he slid a finger up and into Peace's unprotected rectum. He found as usual, as was Peace's habit, it was lubed beforehand.
Peace felt the rising of his cum and moaned loudly. "I'm cumming, Rusty! I'm cumming! Drink it! Drink it down, buddy!" He fired the first powerful jet of cum just as the head of his cock was at the tip of Rusty's tongue. "Open y' mouth wide so I can watch it shoot down in there!" Peace ordered, and stood there pulling at his cock and aiming his cum at Rusty's tongue as though he were in a command performance. He held Rusty's head with his right hand and aimed his cock dramatically posing and moaning.
His jism flew out explosively from the head of his cock to the back of the man's throat, only to be followed by another thrust and another thick wad of cum. Down, down the cocksucker's throat he delivered more and more of his creamy ejaculate!
Rusty swallowed pump after relentless pump of the sticky wads and just when he thought it was all over, Peace let the last few spurts land on the man's nose, lips and chin. He then took his cock and spread the white film around only to scoop it together and push it inside Rusty's mouth. "Clean me off nice now, Rusty! Don't want to get any nasty stains on m' white pants!"
The little man took hold of the shrinking cock and began a careful tongue cleansing, removing any trace of apparent cum from the glistening head or shaft.
"I think I got some got on my balls, too. Better make sure," Peace told him.
Rusty obediently raised the cock in his hand and bent his head lower for easy access and began to thoroughly lave Peace's hairy balls. His own cock stirred into an erection as he licked and lapped at those tasty orbs.
"Oh, yeah, that should do it real good! Looks like you're getting all excited 'bout licking those balls, Rusty, ol' pal." Peace said condescendingly. "You like that, huh? Go 'head, beat y'self off if eating my balls gets you so hot!"
Rusty didn't hesitate and barely jacked off his meat when his own excitement had him shooting his wad down into the toilet beneath him, and getting a few drops on Peace's shiny, black cowboy boots.
Peace backed away quickly. "Hey, easy there. You'd better get down there and clean that off!"
Embarrassed, Rusty quickly went to his knees and began to lick clean the boots before him. When he was done, Peace handed Rusty a handkerchief. "Pat it nice and dry now." Rusty obeyed. "Not m' boots, fool," cried Peace, "My balls! They're wet!"
Obediently, Rusty obliged with a resolved sigh.
"Now, give my dick a big ol' kiss and say, 'Thank you for letting me drink your deee-licious cum!"
"Oh, come on," Rusty whined.
"Do it!" He demanded as he waved an envelope from his jacket pocket that contained the wicked photos Rusty wanted to see.
"Oh, all right," he relented and holding Peace's cock to his face, he spoke directly to it. "Thank you for letting me drink your deee-licious cum!"
Peace pulled himself from Rusty's grip and started to put himself back in his pants. "Perfect."
Rusty got up off the bowl yanked up his overalls and walked over to the sink while adjusting the straps on his shoulders. He turned on the tap and began cupping some cold water into his hands. He sucked up some of the water, swished it around and spit it out. Coughing a little he said, "Whew, you nearly brought tears to my eyes, Peace...you went in so deep!"
"You were great, as usual, Rusty!" Peace said from behind the man.
"Yeah, well, that's between us! No one has to know we done this now or ever b'fore, right?"
Peace ignored him as he buckled his belt, patted his tight stomach, gave himself an approving look in the mirror and said, "Well, you ready for that story?" He reached in his back pocket and pulled out an envelope of snapshots. "Elrod and Rodel Wilson. Here's the secret of their feud and why, after all these years, you never see brother and sister together in one place."
"Oh, my God!" Rusty gasped wide-eyed as he stared at the photos before him. That's him! Elrod! He's...he's both of them! He's Ro-del, too? Oh, Peace, this is priceless! How do you do it? You are so amazin'!" he snorted as he complimented Peaceable. "Oh, I am just gonna have to go over there and ...do you know, he blew me once when I thought he was her? Well, this is too great! Am I gonna surprise him, next time I visit!"
"Surprisin' folks is part of the fun!" Peaceable replied. "Shall we get back out to the bar? Don't want Milo suspecting anything, do we?" he added, taking the photos back from Rusty.
"Yeah, right! 'Sides, our beers are gettin' warm!" He unhooked the latch and proceeded back to the bar with Peace close behind him. Amazingly, in just those few moments, the place had pretty much filled up.
The usual waves and greetings exchanged back and forth and the two of them sat back down in their booth. "Hey, look at that there!" someone shouted from the bar.
Rusty looked up and on the large screen TV, he saw himself sitting on a toilet, hungrily sucking a big cock jutting out of a pair of tight, white, polyester pants.
"Surprise!" Peaceable grinned.
With Peace at his side, Rusty stood by a stool near the end of the bar, his breath constricted in his throat. The backs of his ears tightened while they themselves turned crimson. His eyes bulged, and beads of sweat fell from his forehead as he heard the words playing from the TV, "I'm cumming, Rusty! I'm cumming! Drink it! Drink it down, buddy!" Every muscle in his body locked in place. He wanted to run out of that bar-turned-hell, but he couldn't move.
"Whoa, look a' Rusty go!" he heard Milo shout while laughing.
The picture slowed to crawl just as Peaceable's cum flew into his mouth then on his face in time-stop-motion, drop by drop, each contact brought a loud cheer from the men now transfixed to the screen. They moaned in unison as Peace gathered the cum that landed on Rusty's face and pushed it into his mouth with his cock. The slow motion gave the appearance that Rusty had savored each morsel so much, he'd taken his time to taste and swallow every bit.
Through it all and several instant replays, the gang of men at the bar whooped and cheered while rubbing their crotches and they offered to share their loads with the chagrined Rusty. A familiar voice came from the door. "What the hell are you up to now, Rusty?"
Clyde Burrows and his boy stood there silhouetted by the glare of the setting sun through the bar windows. The big man walked purposefully towards the back of the bar, around Peaceable and stood to Rusty's left. Willie, following in his wake, moved quietly to his daddy's left. Suddenly the laughter and banter ceased. Each man waited in silence to see where this was going. No one wanted the bad side of Clyde Burrows.
Leaning his beefy arm against the bar, Clyde looked up at the TV screen. "Damn," he said, "You sure ain't any prettier in that movie, boy!" clamping Rusty on the shoulder.
Somehow Rusty found his voice. "Look what he d ...d ...did, Clyde! Peaceable! He done tricked me! In front of all these men, too! It's not right, Clyde! It's not fair! Tell 'em! Tell 'em he shouldn'a done that!"
"Shut up, Rusty!" Clyde told him without so much as a glance in his direction. His eyes glued to the TV. "Play that again, Milo! And give us a beer, " he said motioning to Willie, Rusty and himself."
Milo set three beers in front of the men, then rewound and played the tape again as instructed. Clyde watched in silence and when his boy, Willie, went to comment, Clyde, without looking at his son, lifted his arm from the bar and clamped his large hand over the boy's mouth. Willie took the hint, stepped away, picked up his beer and drank it without another word.
Rusty's TV appearance ended when he walked away from the camera's view of the toilet. The film jumped suddenly to the erratic movements of a terrified goat being held in the grip of some man's arms. Milo stopped the film. Clyde raised and slapped his thick hands together and began a slow, divided, purposeful clapping whose sound didn't invite anyone to join in.
"Well, well, well. That there is somethin' else! SOME-thin' else, I tell you! Peace, you outdid yourself, you did!"
"See what I mean? See? It just ain't fair, Clyde! It just...," Rusty squealed.
"Shut up, Rusty." Clyde said softly. He turned back to Peace who was at his right. The men stood nose to nose in height, but in muscle and strength, Clyde had it way over Peaceable Drummer. "Now just what was you thinkin', Drummer?"
Peace's words came out choked. "Well, it was just a joke, Clyde, 's all. You know Rusty! It's not like he ain't done it before!"
Rusty's little body frantically skittered around from behind Clyde and placed himself between the men; poking his small fingers into Peace's chest, "It ain't right takin' pictures of a man doing...well, it ain't right!"
Clyde turned Rusty around to him and gripped the little man by his shirt. "Rusty, I'm gonna tell you for the last time...SHUT UP! Now, stand over there by Willie and drink the beer I bought you and zip your lip!" He leaned in nose to nose with the fidgeting Mr. Balls. "You hearin' me?"
The little man nodded and sniffed. Clyde released him and returned his attention back to Peaceable. Rusty mumbled, "Well, it ain't fair!"
Clyde glared threateningly again and Rusty darted back around Clyde to where Willie and his beer waited. "I'm goin'! I'm goin'!"
"A joke." Clyde said turning back to Peace. "Well, hell, I LIKE jokes!" He looked over at his son. "My boy likes jokes! Don'cha boy?"
"Sure do, Pa!" Willie's face brightened. He started to approach but at his father's glare he stopped short as he realized his father didn't really want him to talk.
"So, tell me," he came back at Peace, "how'd you do it? I mean get it all set up and all?" Clyde gave the man a big grin, put his arm to the lower back the thin man and began walking him over to the tables.
There were about seven other, nameless men who'd watched the film and had been quietly listening to the events going on. Each desperately wanted to find a way to leave without bringing too much attention to himself. Something was bound to happen that might not be pleasant. Milo and another man, Carl Hardgrove, seemed to be the most anxious of the group.
Clyde's grin gave some relief to Peace and he went on to tell the man his carefully laid out scheme. "First, I arranged for Rusty and me to meet here today. I knew Rusty couldn't resist if I told him that I knew somebody's secret, one big enough that he'd do anything to find out what it was!"
"Liar!" A high pitched squeal rang out from across the bar.
Stopping still and without a glance, Clyde raised his huge hand up. "Sorry." Rusty said softly.
"So," Peace went on, "I asked Milo, here, if I could borrow his storage room for a bit ...to play a joke! Then, in the men's room, I drilled a small hole into the wall that comes out into the storage room on the other side. I drilled it through the right eye of the nude Playboy bunny picture hanging there across from the bowl, you know?
"Then, earlier today, I arranged to have ol' Carl there hide inside with my video camera, ready to take pictures of what went on 'tween Rusty and me!"
Carl Hardgrove looked cautiously at Clyde and smiled uncertainly. He was generally a quiet, shy little man; alcoholic and wife badgered and when not at work at the Bessemer Shoe Store, he spent most of his spare time escaping the torments of his married life at Milo's.
"And the rest," Peace continued, "...well, is what you seen!" he finished with a big smile, expressing his pride in a job well done.
"You know, Drummer, that there's a mighty good joke. Yes sir. I do believe it's one of the better jokes I ever heard of." He put his beefy arm around the man's shoulder and held him in close to his side as if in some confidence and he walked him closer to the tables, "But now, you see, I got this here problem with who you chose to play the joke on!
"For a lot of years, Rusty, over there, and I, ...well, we sometimes work together, on and off. You know, construction and such. And while he ain't much..." Clyde paused. He looked with concern into Peace's eyes, "...You need a beer or something, Drummer? No? Oh, okay.
"Well, as I was saying, Rusty ain't much, but he is my best friend. Hell," he smiled at Peace, "let's face it, he's m' only friend!" he laughed heartily then abruptly stopped, gripping Peace tightly to him, "And I sort o' like taking care of the little runt, y' know?"
Clyde stopped walking. He released Peaceable, turned away, walked back to the bar and grabbed his beer. He called Milo over and mumbled something to him. He did likewise to Rusty. Then, with his back still turned to Peace, he fiddled with something on himself which was only evident when he turned to Peace and stood there with his fly opened and his long, flaccid cock hanging freely. "Are you startin' to get the picture, Drummer?" he asked the man.
Peaceable stood there numb. He glanced over at the booth in the far corner wondering how fast he'd have to be to reach his coat and be out of the bar before Clyde caught up to him. He gave up the thought when he saw Rusty go to the booth, fetching both of their coats and grinning like a cat who ate more than his cock a few minutes ago. His eyes followed the little man as he returned to the bar and tossed their coats on the stool beside him and then eagerly accepted Peace's video cam that Milo was now handing him.
With a signal from Clyde, one of the customers was turning the deadbolt of the front door and closing the slatted blind. Peace noticed the duel-purpose sign facing him on the inside of the door just before the blind was shut completely. It said, OPEN. Other men were sent to close the blinds on the windows and Peace nearly jumped out of his skin when the jukebox suddenly blared Willie Nelson's hit, "Of All the Girls I've Loved Before".
When he scanned the room, every cock in the bar was hanging from there respective fly. There was a total of eleven men in the bar. Eight of the eleven men, which included Milo, and Carl Hardgrove, waited in feral anticipation as they worked their cocks into erections and watched Clyde and Willie, move slowly towards the quivering jokester. The eleventh man, Rusty, held and aimed Peace's video cam.
It took no time at all to convince Peace to strip himself of all his clothing. He had a morbid fear of having his 'beautiful' face bruised or scarred and he had little experience in the art of self-defense. He stood naked and visibly shaking although not from the cold as the bar was well heated. His clothes were picked up from the floor and stacked onto the bar.
His lanky frame emphasized the extraordinary length of his dangling cock and balls. He mutely waited for Clyde to tell him what to do, as he knew he had little choice of doing anything else but what he was told.
Clyde ordered one of the men to bring one of the small, square tables out to the center of the floor. While that was being done, he had Peace undress him and his boy. He made sure Rusty videotaped Peace obediently sucking on each of their hairy tits as they were exposed. He then ordered Peaceable to unlace their snow-soaked, muck coated, work boots with his teeth, and after their pants were off, Peace was ordered to lovingly kiss their hairy asses, balls and swinging cocks.
Both men stripped down to their socks and jock straps and stood together like twin, powerful golems brought to life. Willie was looking more and more like his father each passing year and had, in fact, grown a few inches taller. Still, even with the age difference, their resemblance was remarkable. Mutually, the thick black hair above their dark eyebrows seemingly stretched from one side to the other with out break. Strong, bearded jaws and thick, sneering lips were the aspects that Peace stared at in fear as he completed his tasks.
"You getting all this, Rusty?" Clyde asked the little man with the camcorder.
"I sure am, Clyde! Every bit of it! Some joke, huh, Peace?" Rusty snorted.
"You undressed yet?" he asked Rusty who stood recording the event from behind him.
"Well, no sir. I got this here camera going!" he answered.
"Milo! Take that camera from Rusty and keep filming while he gets his duds off!" Clyde said aloud, then walked over to him and whispered something in his ear that no one else could here.
"Okay, Clyde. No problem!" The big bartender, ex-marine, took the camcorder from Rusty and began filming the activity.
Rusty shucked off his worn, paint spattered brown work boots, dirty green overalls, threadbare plaid shirt, and dingy gray and yellow stained T-shirt. He stood there nervously bouncing from side to side in his multi-stained boxers and hole riddled socks whose color could no longer be determined. Not particularly hygienic, Rusty did, however, have a tight, little, wrestler's body that was well defined with muscles gained from hard work, rather than an exercise regimen. Though he was only thirty-four years old, his years of drinking weighed its toll on his face and mental acuity. His face was ruddy and well defined with deep furrows and character lines and his watery eyes and weak countenance made him look much older and belied his physical strength for someone of his size. Still, he was not equipped with the fortitude, reflexes or personality to do battle and relied on his long association with Clyde to see him through the rough spots.
"Take the laces out of one of them boots o' yours, Rusty and give 'em here! The boot too! And for God's sake, take off them socks! They stink somethin' awful!" Clyde told him.
Rusty promptly obeyed, inwardly saying, 'look who's talking', and offered Clyde his laces and boot from one hand, his nasty socks from the other.
"I don't want them damn socks, you fool!" He turned to Peace, "I know! Here," he took them from Rusty and brought them up to Peace's lips, "hold on to these. Open up!"
Peace's face cringed at the foul smell attacking his nostrils. Still, he complied and he held down the physical urge to gag from the acrid taste and strong sour odor that his nose had no escape from as Clyde filled his mouth with Rusty's filthy socks. The others grinned at his reaction, very happy not to be in his shoes!
"Milo, you got rope in that storage room back there?" Clyde barked.
"Not there," he answered, "but my Caroline got some strung up in the basement. She uses the line in the winter to dry clothes down there by the washing machine."
"Willie, go get some of that rope and bring it up here!" Clyde ordered his son.
"Okay, Pa." The boy said eagerly and went to the door opposite the storage room. Opening it, he called out. "Pa, it's dark in here!"
"Turn on the damn light, idiot! Where's the switch, Milo?"
"Just on the right, Willie," he watched the boy grope for it.
"No ...the other right, Willie!"
Finding the switch and flipping it on, the pleased boy turned back, grinned and waved his success with a raised thumb. He worked his way down to the basement.
"Fuck, it's cold down here!" he hollered up and was back quickly with two lengths of clothesline. "Here y' go Pa!" His nearly naked body was dotted with goose bumps from the cold of the basement.
Clyde traded Rusty's boot and laces for the rope. "Hold those till I tell you." He turned to the man with the camcorder. "Milo, hold off takin' pictures for a time, till we get things set up here! We want this to look good, don't we, Drummer?
Now, you two boys!" he said as he looked to his left, he was talking to the twenty year old Bueford twins who were presently standing closest to Peaceable. "Take Rusty's boot from Willie and, with those laces, tie it to Peace's nuts so it stretches 'em down some more. You done w' that, turn him around to face that table there. And you, Drummer, lean over it so's your top parts restin' on it!"
The red-haired and bearded brothers secured the boot to Peaceable's balls, one holding his sizable cock out of the way and raising the boots weight off the lace, the other tying it securely around his balls just below the base of his cock. When it was done, they let the heavy boot down; swaying about seven inches off the floor. They guided Peace by the arms, one on each side of him, to the thirty-six inch, square, four legged bar table. Their thick, uncut cocks swung boldly from their opened jeans.
As with one mind, they didn't miss the opportunity to maneuver Peace's trembling hands to land in close proximity to their anxious, horny dicks while they moved him to the table. The young mountain boys' dicks stretched considerably, reacting to the brief, warm touch of their prisoner's hand and they mutually acknowledged their pleasure with shit eating grins as they set to their task.
Peace's torso was laid out across the length of the table where his shoulders met the edge and his neck and head hung just over it. He was still sucking on Rusty's socks within his mouth. They secured Peace to the small table by bringing his arms to its sides and tying his wrists to the table's legs nearest them.
On the opposite end, he was spread-eagled, toes to the floor and ass exposed, his ankles lashed to the opposite pair of table legs. Matthew and John Bueford let their cocks rub, touch and smack against Peace at every opportunity. Their dark pink heads peeking through the foreskin openings, glistened with pre-cum which they let smear across Peace wherever they made contact. Their young cocks were now proudly pointing to the ceiling, bobbing their youthful enthusiasm for all to see. They were going to get a piece of ass or get blown and they could hardly wait!
Not a man here would ever claim to be queer, but if and when a warm hole presented itself, be it mouth or asshole, well, waste not etcetera, etcetera.
Of course, if it was your hole about to be plugged, other rationalizations came to play. You were either "tricked", horsin' around, or it was just 'guy' stuff and you were so drunk you didn't remember doing anything anyway! Besides, it wasn't like you were dating the guy, or dressing up to go to the prom! And, hell, you wouldn't leave your women for some other guy. It was just a fuck! Pure and simple, and the subject would be dropped.
Collectively, unconsciously and silently what they had agreed upon doing to Peaceable Drummer was 'teaching him a lesson'! Never mind that they themselves enjoyed watching the practical joke just fifteen minutes ago. It wasn't them as thought it up and embarrassed one of their own, and once this charade got started their hormones and hard-ons took over! Their buddy Clyde was providing them with a rare diversion and a chance to get one up on a guy who knew too much about each of them. This would not only be fun, but a sure way to get Drummer to keep his mouth shut from now on. That was something they all agreed would be a good idea.
With their victim secured, Clyde announced to the men to take their clothes off, if it suited them, and that the drinks were on Peace! Milo nearly dropped the camcorder! Peace had been meanin' to take care of his tab for six months and hadn't showed him a dime yet. He'd have to do some fancy bookwork to hide this loss from his wife Caroline who kept him under tight rein most of the time. Thank God she was visiting her mother today! He checked Peace's clothes piled on the bar and sighed with relief when he purloined two one hundred dollar bills and several twenties from Peace's wallet. "Son of a bitch!"
"I bet those nasty socks got your mouth dry as a bone, huh, Drummer?" Clyde asked as he came around to the man's head. It was a strain for Clyde to look up, but he made the effort and mumbled something through the smelly gag.
"You say yer thirsty? Well now, we can do something about that. Willie! Get your naked ass over here and give this man somethin' to drink!" he grinned and winked at his boy.
"Sure thing, pa!" Willie strode over, reached down and held Peace's head up by the hair with one hand. He removed the offending socks from Peace's mouth with his free hand and then replaced them with the head of his rubbery cock. Hardly time to protest, Peace felt the rush of warm piss flow into his mouth! He gagged at first, and let it flow out as fast as it was coming in onto the barroom floor right were Willie dropped Rusty's old socks.
"Hey!" Clyde yelled sharply. "Don't you let one more drop of my boy's piss fall to that floor, or so help me, Drummer, I'll bust your face and you'll eat those piss wet socks!"
Peaceable immediately clamped his mouth and took in the remaining, bitter liquid. Eyes watering, he swallowed each time his cheeks filled to capacity. Every time he swallowed, his lips gripped the boy's cock tighter and his tongue squeezed the shaft between itself and the roof of his mouth, which felt so good to the boy that he was getting an erection while he was pissing.
Willie began to slide his large, fat cock back and forth into Peace's mouth. He felt the head of his cock rub against the man's tongue and hit the firm flesh of the back of his throat each time he dove in. There. Oh. Again. He shoved forward and felt a slight restriction, then a sudden give and his cock slipped further in, down the man's throat. Now he knew how it must feel to his dad when his cock was being sucked. Nineteen years old and this was his first blow job and man, was it feeling great! Clyde wouldn't even let Willie stick it in his brother Teddy's mouth, saying only he could do that. Well, if it was he who found next boy, he sure wouldn't hesitate now, he thought, as he pump faster and faster into Peace's mouth!
This new, sensual feeling was overwhelming and the heat rushed quickly from the base of his balls up to his cockhead. "Huh! Huh! Huh!" he grunted as he shoved three more times all the way into the Peace's sucking mouth, crushing his pubes against his lips. "I'm gonna cum, Pa! I'm gonna shoot my load down his throat! Oh, oh...OH!"
His copious load sprang out from his cock deep within the man's throat. Willie's head was thrown back and shaking. He held Peace to his crotch with both hands, feeling the ejaculate burst over and over in the warm tunnel. "Suck! Suck! Suck! Oh, fuck, I'm cummmmming! I'm cumming, pa! I makin' him eat my load! Oh, God! Hnnnggh...," he moaned with his final pushing motions as his spasms began to ebb. "Ahhh!" he sighed as he withdrew his relieved cock from its confines. He wiped the wet sausage across Peace's face. "Next!" his waved his limp cock in victory and hollered to the bar.
The others were more than ready. Some were mutually masturbating in anticipation. Rusty ran quickly to take Willie's place. He was about to stick his cock in the man's mouth when he suddenly thought to look up at Clyde for permission. "Okay?" he asked.
"Go for it, buddy! Me, I'm gonna get some of this right here!" he said, and laid a hard slap across Peaceable's ass. Come on around boys, you can wait your turn or toss your loads anywhere on him you want to!" Clyde offered them, then spit twice into his hand and once more into the crack of Peaceable's exposed ass. With deft fingers, he spread his lubrication on and into the small hole winking back at him. He shoved one than two fingers up the man's hole finding the path he would soon take with something a good deal larger. Peace's yelp of protest was muffled by Rusty's cock pushing into his mouth.
"Willie, get over here, get under the table and lube me up!" Clyde ordered his son. The boy was reluctant to be doing this in front of the other men, but knew he had little choice. Besides, in his simple mind, it seemed to him like they were all in one same boat, now! He went over, got on his knees and crawled under the table. He moved the swinging boot hanging from Peace's balls out of his way, then brought his head out between Peace's restrained legs and faced his dad's crotch. Squatting back on his knees, he opened his mouth and put the waiting cock between his lips. Gathering as much spit as he could, he slid his mouth back and forth over his dad's raging hard-on. He felt his father's excitement in his mouth and it revitalized his own youthful excitement.
Without thinking or looking, he reached out, felt for and grabbed which ever cocks were nearest to him on either side of the table. The feel of his father's cock swelling inside his mouth and the hardening of the cocks in his fists was euphoric. His own prick began a slow, steady rise once more.
Clyde yanked his stiff, lubricated cock from his son's mouth. He raised it up and aimed it at Peaceable's asshole. His foreskin yielded to his cockhead's demand for release and he pushed the huge purple head against the inviting asshole before him. Hawking another great load of spit at the head of his cock, he grabbed Peace by the hips and began to push his way into the man's ass. The fat head made a sudden, impulsive burst inside and Peace opened his mouth wide with a scream!
"Hey, you! Shut that mouth and get back to sucking my dick!" Rusty ordered the helpless man. He began to face fuck Peace mercilessly! "Yeah! Take my dick, you bastard!" Catching a glimpse of Milo holding the video camera he grinned and said, "Let's see how you look on camera, you prick! Suck it! Suck it! Take my fucking load! I'm gonna shoot my cum in yer mouth this time and yer gonna swallah every bit of it, you prick!"
Peaceable felt the angry man jab his cock against the back of his throat again and again, making it difficult to keep control of his gag reflex. Still, it wasn't as painful as what was happening down below. He felt Clyde stretching his hole and forcing his way upward into his ass. The pain was searing! Over and over, the big cock worked its way in and out, his muscles screamed in protest at the invasion; certain that the sloshing he felt within was spit, blood and God only knew what else. He feared his insides would soon flow out from his asshole as soon as the invading cock came out of there.
His father's cock gone from his lips, Willie merely backed up under the table, bumping into the boot still attached to Peace's balls. Ignoring it, he turned and began sucking alternately on the two cocks he'd held in his hands only a moment ago. The Bueford twins were in heaven!
"Arrggh! Ah, shit!" Clyde bellowed. "Oh fuck, you got a tight ass, Drummer! Oh, yeah! I'm gonna shoot it, man! Right up your ass! Yeah! Yeah! YEAH! OH FUCK! I'M CUMMIN'! AAAAAAAHHH!" Clyde's hot, thick, erupting cock thrust forcibly in and out of Peace's virgin asshole. Faster and faster he pumped, pushing his cock to the hilt as his stomach slapped loudly against the man's ass cheeks. He continued to shoot load after load of hot cum up Peace's ass.
His excitement brought others to the breaking point. Rusty whooped loudly as he shot his creamy wad into Peaceable's mouth. Holding the man's head, he backed away just enough to keep only the head of his cock between Peace's lips, making the man taste every drop that didn't shoot down his throat first. He felt his cum squirting from his cock and his cockhead began to swim in the puddle of cum that was collecting in Peaceable's mouth. When he stopped cumming, he fucked the man's mouth again, pushing every trace of cum down Peace's throat.
One of the Bueford boys started shooting off his load and Willie felt it hit the back of his neck as he was sucking on the other boy. He quickly turned and clamped his mouth on the ejaculating cock and siphoned it to completion, only to just in time catch the other boy's shooting cock and swallow his load as well.
Carl Hardgrove grabbed Rusty out of the way of Peace's face to put his own heated cock in the man's mouth! The unusually timid man suddenly became a force to be reckoned with. In moments he was aggressively feeding Peaceable another load of thick cum. Three other local men took their turns at emptying their gonads into the prisoner's mouth, each with their own style and determination to be thoroughly satisfied.
Taking the camera from him, Clyde invited Milo to take over just as he pulled out of Drummer's well-used asshole. The big, crew cut, ex-marine stepped up to Peace's ass looking like something out of a Tom of Finland or Etienne drawing. He pressed his obscenely huge sausage of a cock against the cum-dribbling opening and pushed its enormous head all the way in with one mighty shove. Once comfortably in, he pumped furiously, slapping the man's ass red as he worked his cock back and forth. He began a grunting chant that grew louder and louder and finally hacked out a guttural expletive as he exploded out tremendous waves of cum up Peace's abused asshole.
Having sucked the cum out of the cocks on either side of him, insatiable Willie, hard once again, looked for more. He saw Milo's legs before him and then, hanging in front of him, Rusty's boot still swinging from Peace's balls. Above that, he also saw Peace's long prick dripping with pre-cum. He crawled to it, lapped up the pre-cum then seized upon it and began sucking it like a calf to a cow's tit. He grabbed his own cock and began jacking it off.
The other men shot their second loads all over the helpless Peace. He felt himself getting splattered everywhere then he realized his ass was being relieved of one cock only to have an even bigger one replace it. He heard Milo grunting in back of him and felt Carl Hardgrove's cum spurting into his mouth at the same time. All at once, he felt warm lips softly wrapping around his own cock. Against his will, his cock reacted by becoming more and more erect from the firm, wet suctioning mouth below.
Someone grabbed Peaceable by the hair and Carl's spent cock was replaced with another one, eager to shoot its load. The cock began pumping into his lips. He didn't know whose it was and didn't open his eyes to see. He was feeling Milo's huge cock going in and out of his ass, the pain having subsided into a wonderful, indescribable satisfaction. Milo kept hitting a certain spot that sent sparks to Peace's brain and the sucking mouth below that was avidly working on his cock, sent him over the edge. His mouth being full, he could only grunt his pleasure.
Barton Cootes, the man who was now using Peace's face, let out a sound of achievement as he shot his first wad and he continued to jack himself dry into the mouth of the moaning man. Peace moaned and swallowed alternately as he heard and felt Milo cumming up his ass. The big man cursed loudly and slammed twice against that itching spot and Peace felt his own cum rising and shooting out and into the mysterious mouth siphoning at his cock!
Willie felt the first of Peace's load hit his throat like a bullet and worked his own cock even faster. Swallowing the thick, creamy goo he jacked himself frantically and shot his load all over the barroom floor. Handing the video camera over to Rusty, Clyde reached down and pulled Peace's shooting cock from his boy's mouth. He grabbed Willie and pushed his cock into the boy's grinning, willing mouth.
"Clean it off for me, boy!" he told him and allowed the boy to suck him to another climax.
All of this amazing activity happened in less than a half an hour. Afterwards, in what took about that same length of time, Peace was released and everyone was dressed.
Incredibly, as though nothing had happened, the men were standing around at the bar talking about anything and everything but the events of the past hour, with the exception of the small group now seated at a booth. Clyde, with his boy seated next to him, was talking to Peace who sat beside Rusty opposite the father and son.
"I'm keeping the tape, Drummer. We recorded over the scene with you and Rusty, and we got everything that happened here just now, including when I took over the filming and Milo got to shove his big dick up your ass. Not one frame catches you tied down, so's anyone lookin' would think you were more than willing to take on every man in the bar! Now someday, you might be doing me a favor, and I'll give you back this tape to do with what you please. Meanwhile, you keep your nose outta things that don't concern you! We right on that, Drummer?"
"Yessir, we are truly right!" he said, shifting his weight side to side, feeling the after effects of two, hard-core ass-fucks.
"Now, being you're so full of information around these parts, maybe you can tell me something." Clyde asked.
"Anything at all, Clyde...uh, Mr. Burrows, Sir."
Clyde nodded approvingly at the new humility of Peaceable Drummer. He considered having him drop by now and then for a refresher course in obedience training and grinned at the thought.
"Good," he said. "Now, you ever hear of anybody seein' a new kid around these parts, about sixteen years old, black wavy hair, pretty, little shit, like a girl?"
Peaceable quietly drummed his manicured fingers on the table as he listened attentively, swearing allegiance forever to this man who had just unforgivably humiliated him. "Someday, Mr. Burrows," he thought through his ingratiating smile, "I'll get you...if it's the last thing I do. I will get you good!"
I could hardly believe my life had turned around so. I felt like I was lifted into a storybook. A poor homeless waif bein' saved from his wicked family by his very own giant. In the four weeks I'd been here, my life became new, important and wonderful.
Calvary may have been a giant, but he was so carefully gentle around me. I know he sometimes felt bad about loving me, but I was wicked myself and knew how to get him goin' so's he couldn't quit once we got started. I loved feeling his big, strong body pressed against me, his deep, guttural words of passion vibrating in my ear. I loved how he felt inside me, full and warm and permanent. I loved the taste of him, the smell of him. Don't ask me why I was so nuts about his socked feet. It is beyond me!
I discovered I loved lying on the opposite end of the couch with his warm, socked feet pressed against my face. Sometimes, when I'd sit on the floor by the fire, I loved having his legs surround me, his gray, and woolen, socked feet in my lap as I absently massaged them and sniffed their familiar, toasty odor. No matter how many times Calvary would get me to cum, I almost always could do it one more time just by havin' him hold his huge feet to my face, occasionally wriggling his toes or moving his feet up and down, while I jerked my dick. He was so amazing! Just when I tensed up, beating my cock real fast, he'd quickly remove his feet, pick me up like a feather and bring my spewing cock to his mouth and drink down all I was shooting.
I couldn't get over how he could go down on himself. I couldn't do it no matter how hard I tried. I could shoot in my own mouth if I was laying on my back and my legs held up so's my dick hung over my mouth, but I guess, because of my pa, I hated doing it. It's one of the things he made me do and it reminded me of the other stuff that was worse. After I told Calvary about what happened, he never asked me to do that or anything else I didn't want to do.
Besides the great loving we shared, and the fact that I always wanted to be near him, to touch him, to always have him close by, he made me feel that his home was my home as well. There was nothing there that he'd say was just his or, don't touch or, you can't use that. I had free run of the house and he even liked some of the things I fixed for him for dinner.
He had an old electric sewing machine that he said belonged to his mother once. It was a Singer and you worked it with a big pedal near the floor. It still worked and I practiced on it every day. I learned to cut and alter old pants of his into ones I could wear more easily. I know they weren't perfect, but he would smile and praise me like I'd fashioned a first class suit from a pig's ear.
The snow kept coming down pretty hard for another couple of weeks, but then it started letting up. My wounds were nearly gone now, and I gave Willie and Pa little thought. I suspected they believed I died out there in the cold and forgot all about me. I was daydreaming of Calvary as I worked the sewing machine and I watched him from across the room; he was polishing a tall pair of riding boots. I kept thinking how I would have loved to have been that boot. Feeling his strength brushing and buffing the black wax against me, and knowing his big, beautiful, socked foot would soon be inside me. He snapped me out of my dream by calling my name.
Cal's hands were busy polishing his boots, but his mind was a whirl of confusing questions with very few answers. He'd allowed himself to make love with a boy nearly twenty-five years younger than himself. There were two very distinct and obvious problems there. Not just that he was young, but ...he was a BOY! Well technically, he was a young man. At sixteen he was of consenting and legal age for sex in this jurisdiction. Still! He was an officer of the court! Retired, perhaps, but still...! And he was heterosexual too! At least, he always thought he was.
If it were just the sex, he might have rationalized it as a means to an end of his self-imposed celibacy. But obviously it was much more. His heart hurt when he thought about the boy. It sang with each success the boy made at anything he attempted. It soared when the young lad said, I love you, and it broke when the boy tossed, turned and cried in troubled sleep.
The lad was a wonder! He loved to read and he retained what he read and learned rapidly. Cal was amazed at how little time it took Skip to catch on to that old Singer sewing machine. Above all, the kid wore his emotions on his shirtsleeve for the entire world to see!
The change in the boy since he'd brought him into his home was remarkable, particularly after what he'd been through only a few weeks ago. Cal's mind replayed what the boy told him after he accepted Cal as someone he could trust. He heard the boy tell his tale, sometimes in anger, sometimes in real pain. Skip, encouraged by Cal's patience, began his story.
"It didn't take Pa and Willie long to figure what they were going to do with me, now that it looked like there was no choice. Well, no choice for me, from what Pa said, except a work farm or chain gang if I ran away.
"Pa immediately took to calling me his little wife and seen to it that I looked as much like a girl as he could make me. He had a couple of old housedresses of Ma's he'd kept around all this time, and said I looked just like she did back when he loved her. He'd get all mushy and slobbery when he was drinking, which was almost always, and as long as I cooperated, he wouldn't hurt me.
"Willie just took to calling me a bitch. I never did anything to get him mad, but for some reason he took to hating me something fierce. When Pa let him join in with the sex, he'd force my head down into Pa's cock, or beat me hard with the strap if I wasn't moving fast enough. Pa would never let Willie put his thing in me, anywhere. Said that would be like letting his son fuck his wife. He did let Willie pee and cum on me, if he felt like it. Somehow that was different and okay, according to Pa.
"Every night I slept between the two of them in the big sofa bed. Usually, after Pa was done with me, both with sex and just holding me to his body, I was ordered to sleep at the bottom of the bed between their bare, and sometimes socked, feet. Not that either way smelled particularly good, but at least in their socks their hard calluses didn't scratch so much. Also, I got to taking to them as warm, security toys, like a kid with a plush teddy bear or something. It was certainly better than being up top by their awful beer and tobacco breath. Plus, they were big men, so down there, I had a little more breathing room as well.
"I found myself ducking under the blankets and holding on to one or both of their socked feet with my face pressed close. For some reason, I don't know why, but doing that made me feel good. It aroused me ...down there. I think Pa always knew when I was trying to be quiet about beating off while laying against his socked feet. I think he liked that I did that. I hated myself for doing what I was doing, especially 'cause I didn't know why I was doing it and liking it at the same time. I hated him for being glad of it.
"Another thing I couldn't stand was every time Willie did something our Pa didn't like there was always this ritual he made him go through. And even though Willie despised me, I felt so sorry for him when Pa would make him do the things he said he didn't want to do. He even made Willie suck on my cock and swallow my cum which only made him hate me more. Poor Willie, I guess it's not his fault he's the way he is.
Other than being my Pa's new wife, I adapted quickly to being the house cleaner and doing all the work, but I couldn't keep up with it as fast as the two of them could mess things up. It seemed like forever although I'd been there just about a week, I reckon. The day I finally left, had been the worst. Every time I'd try and get some of the work done, Pa would interrupt me with sex, or Willie would make me do some other chore.
It was about six o'clock in the evening and already dark outside. The front room and kitchen were as picked-up and clean as a body could get them, and I was just starting to scrub the bathroom when I heard my Pa and Willie coming in from outside. Naturally, snow and mud followed them to their chairs where they tossed off their boots and coats, laying them in no particular place.
"'Hey, baby!' I heard my Pa shout out. Where are you? Come give me some sugar and spice!' That meant he'd already downed plenty of beers and Pa was ready for me to perform my wifely duties.
"I'm in the bathroom, Pa! I'm scrubbing up the tub," I answered. "I just got to rinse it out!"
"I guess you didn't hear me well, darling," he said. "Get your tiny butt in here now! Your brother can finish that up!"
"Pa!" I heard Willie say. "I ain't doin' no housework!"
Suddenly there was a loud crash and I knew Willie got hit. "You'll do whatever I tell you you'll do, boy! Standing on your head with your tongue and smiling if I say so! Do you understand?"
"Yes, ...yes Sir!" Willie said, and I could hear his voice choke.
"Now, go get my baby in here. And do it quickly!"
"Yes, Pa. I will."
Willie threw open the bathroom door and I stood to face him. "Don't worry, Willie, I already rinsed it. You don't have to do it, no how!"
His face was red with anger as he stepped quickly over to me. He gripped his large hands on the neck material of the housecoat I was wearing and pulled me up off the floor to his face. "I hate you, you bitch! I was his boy till you came here! Me! Just Pa and me!" I felt his raging spittle spray against my face as he spoke.
"You keep in mind boy, if I can find a way to get rid of your little ass I'm gonna to do it, so help me!"
"But, Willie, he treats you so mean ...s-s-so mean! It's not m-m-my fault! I don't want to be his w-wife! Y-you do it, if you want to. I don't mind!"
Willie's eyes sprung open wide and he slowly put me down on my feet to the floor. "Come on!" he said, grabbing me by my arm and hauling me into the front room.
"Pa!" he shouted as we came near. "Pa! Wait'll you hear! This ungrateful bitch says he doesn't want to be your wife! Says, he wants me to do it for him!"
I couldn't believe my ears. Why was Willie doing this? What did he expect would happen? Pa flashed his eyes down at me with a look that froze me in place.
"Is that true, baby? Is that what you said while you was in there, together? You don't want to be my wife but you want Willie here to be your wife?"
What? What was he saying? That's not what I'd said and definitely not the way Willie meant it!
"Pa," I choked. The next thing I felt on the back of my head, was the molding of the archway that led into the kitchen. I was lying on the floor in a daze. In seconds, I began to feel the pain under my right eye and tasted the bittersweet warmth of blood on my lips.
"Conspiracy!" I heard Pa shouting. "Plotting and scheming behind my back! And I know it was you, Willie, who put such ideas into that boy's head ...thinking he could be your husband!"
"No, Pa! Sir! That's not what I meant," he tried to finish, but Pa's lightning fist connected directly to his jaw sending him flying almost on top of me.
All I could think was the whole world's gone mad. How was I going to get out of this without Pa killing Willie or me for that matter? I quickly got to my knees and crawled over to Pa, tossing as much tears as I could and giving the performance of my life.
"No, Pa! Please! Willie misunderstood what I said, that's all. Please, don't hurt him no more. I DO want to be your wife! I am yours Pa, forever and ever!"
I bent down and started kissing his socked feet, still cold from just coming indoors and only recently removing his boots. "I'll do anything you say, Sir! You know that. I'll cook and clean, and, ...and take care of you! Anything you want!" I said, reaching up and rubbing the bulge in his work jeans. I felt it grow rapidly beneath my small hand.
His eyes squinted in his considering the truth of my words, and he looked over at Willie who lay rubbing his jaw. "Is that true, boy? Is that what it was...a misunderstanding?"
"Yeah, Pa... yes Sir! That's all it was! I...I mean, look at me, I couldn't be no man's wife, now could I, Pa? 'Specially to my own Pa! Don't make any sense, does it, Pa? I mean, he's the pretty one. He's the one who looks like a girl, ...who ...who looks like Ma."
As I watched my Pa's face, listening to Willie prattle on, the corners of his lips turned up ever so slightly and I could tell he knew all along what was what. This was nothing more than another game he was playing. Willie and I were just things to amuse him and his mean ways. Willie would never grasp what just happened and Pa knew it would only make him hate me even more.
"Well. I guess I gotta test the truth of all this by trial. Baby, you stand up, now. Willie, remove my wife's housedress from him and get y'self undressed as well." Willie came over to me to do as he was told and all I could do, besides stand there and let Willie remove my clothes, was wonder what Pa was planning to do to with us.
Pa left the room with orders that Willie and I stand with our bare bodies, back to back, against one another and not speak a word. I knew that I was shivering both from cold and fear of what was to become of us, but ol' Willie, why he was really shakin' up somethin' awful! I felt his body heave great sobs and it liked to have broke my heart to feel him sufferin' so.
"Willie," I whispered. "Willie, don't be afraid. It'll be all right. He won't really hurt us. He...," and suddenly Willie interrupted me.
"Shut up, you, you, bitch!" he growled in a hoarse whisper. "This is all yer fault! Why'd you have to show up here and ruin m' life? You think I don't know how stupid and slow I am? I never had much, but at least I had Pa and he needed me. Now you come along, remindin' him of Ma and takin' him away from me! I hate you! I hate you! And if I ever get the chance, so help me, I'll ..." he never finished. Pa came back into the room and Willie was quiet again although his body, pressed against mine, betrayed his rage and fear.
It was incredible. Pa was dressed in what looked like a black choir robe. Where it came from I'll never know 'cause if I hadn't already washed them, I was sure I had seen every stitch of clothes there was to be worn in this house. He surely must've been planning something like this for a time after the first day I got here.
Under his right arm he carried a large book, like a photo album or something. His hands held two candlesticks, candles and a pack of matches. He then ordered us to shut the curtains, set their makeshift coffee table in front of his chair, turn out the lights in the house, find our way back in the dark and then kneel facing him as he solemnly sat down.
The coffee table lay before us in the darkness, which was broken suddenly by the flare of a match. The flame went smoothly from one candle to the other and my Pa sat before us like some dark ghost or vision of doom. The shadows cast by the candlelight were terrifying. What could be seen of his face beneath the cowl of his robe looked sinister and full of dark thoughts.
Willie gasped reverently, "Oh, Pa." In Willie's eyes, I knew, he saw something divine and enthralling. What I saw frightened me to my bones. I prayed the dim candlelight wouldn't expose the hair and goose bumps raising all over my body. Fear was like food to my father who now seemed to me to be some sort of sadistic demon. If I gave him my fear, I knew I'd be lost. I'd be his other "Willie". A devoted, unthinking body, serving his every perverse need for the rest of my life.
"Hush, boy!" he said to Willie, which in my fear I thought he said to me, as though he'd just read my thoughts. He held the large book up like a holy object. I still couldn't make out just exactly what it was because of all the darkness and shadows.
"By the Holy Scripture, ye must be judged. The truth shall be known to me tonight," he said, and I suddenly felt a horrible, irresistible urge to giggle. I don't know if it was the frights, or just that he was trying so hard to play out this game he'd decided to play. His voice took on a Sunday school, preacher quality that was so unlike his own, it was almost laughable. Fortunately, I controlled my initial impulse and only cleared my throat. It did help to keep the fear within me from overtaking me.
"In this house," he continued, "there can only be one wife and one husband, not two. The position of husband is filled," he said and I almost giggled again, and might have if he weren't playing it so seriously. Therefore, one of you will be chosen as my wife. The other shall be the servant to my wife. This servant will obey my wife as he would obey me. In all things."
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Willie's fear a risin'. The candlelight shone directly in his face. His eyes were wide with fear and they shifted nervously to the left and right. I could just about read his mind. I was already his father's wife, which meant he would now have to serve me as well as his father. This I knew he would never willingly do. As it was, he only sucked my cock at Pa's orders.
Pa went on. "One of you has already once been chosen as my wife," he said. I saw Willie tense up and I thought he was going to scream aloud. "The other of you has been my faithful and loyal servant for all his life."
You could have heard Willie's sigh of relief a hundred miles away. There was hope. Obviously it was Willie that Pa was talkin' about just then. He couldn't hold himself back.
"Me, Pa! It's me! Oh, Pa, let me be your wife! Please, Pa! I love you, Pa. I would die for you!"
I could see Pa's sly grin beneath the cowl. He was really enjoying himself. Between his legs, his robe began to noticeably rise along with his excitement. "I told you to hush, boy! Don't make me tell you again!" Willie held his tongue, but not the tears that started to run down his face. "You both will be tested!"
Pa had us stretch out on the floor head to foot in opposite directions each of us facing the others privates. Sixty-nine, he called it. He told us we had to suck on each other's cock until one of us came. The first one to get the other one to cum, would be his new wife, forever, from this night on."
My mind raced feverishly. All I had to do was to hold back from getting Willie off first. Willie would get what he wanted. The problem was Pa had to know that I didn't want to be his wife and he was making it easy for me to get out of it. Why?
Willie, of course, could hardly wait to get started. He'd been made to suck the cum out of me before and he knew exactly how to get my cock rock hard and spewing pretty quickly while he figured to hold himself back from cumming no matter how hard I tried to get him off. For him, this was going to be an easy win.
He immediately attacked my cock with his talented sucking mouth going full force. I, in turn, not coming up with an alternate plan, made it look as though I was vigorously going down on him, but unseen in the dim candlelight, I kept the suction to a minimum.
Pa had things carefully thought out. Two things occurred that changed it all for Willie and most definitely for me. One, Willie hadn't considered that I'd learn something about cocksucking while living here. He'd also forgotten that he'd never had his cock in my mouth before. The moment I put my mouth around his cock, the new sensation of it all sent his cock into full drive. Even giving him a mediocre blowjob, I was still virgin territory for him and the experience sent him into instinctive overdrive beyond his control. I thought, even if I stopped moving my head, he was so excited by the idea of my mouth on his cock, that at any moment he would start shooting his load into my mouth.
The other thing Pa added was the hot wax. He stood over us as he watched us sucking each other's cocks and fucking each other's faces. He must have easily spotted my half-hearted attempts as he picked up the candles from the table, tilted them, as well as the outcome of his little game, as he held them dripping their hot wax just inches above our ass cheeks!
The first hot splatter of wax on my tender flesh both stung and shocked the hell out of me and had I lost control, I might have bitten Willie's cock right off! The hot rain of wax continued to sting, some drops more than others, but they no longer held any surprise. It was beyond me what purposes they had other than to help me hold back from cumming. This new torture was no turn-on for me. However, for Willie, it was a different matter.
I quickly got the feeling that Pa and Willie had played this wax game before and for Willie it had deeper significance. His mouth instantly became a whirlwind of activity over my cock while his dick literally shriveled inside my mouth. He sucked at my cock like a Hoover vacuum. He dove all the way down on it and stayed there, pumping and sucking all the while, drawing my seed closer and closer out of my balls and towards the tip of my cockhead. He very nearly got me off twice. Then, he came back up and nibbled on the head. He wrapped his lips around the head and sucked it tightly as he pulled his lips away, popping it out of his mouth. He repeated that wild sensation over and over! Against my every effort of will, I could feel my cum rising up to the top again and now I was beginning to think that trying not to cum was making me cum all the faster!
Willie suddenly grunted loudly as though he'd just received a really hot splash of wax on his hairy ass. In response, he plunged his hot lips all the way down the shaft of my cock, smashing his face into my pubic hairs and gripping the head deep into his throat. His tongue swirled around and as he made gulping noises his throat massaged and milked at my heated cock until it finally relented. I knew I'd lost, but losing never felt so amazing.
My cum, having nearly surfaced several times earlier, was now speeding its way up to freedom. I shot. Oh God, how I shot. Squirt after squirt, sweet load after load, it pistoned its way out of my cock and into Willie's sucking maw. He kept drawing more and more juice out of me.
As my cum was being hungrily devoured by my brother, above us, Pa began to spill the hot candle wax in greater earnest. I pulled my spent cock from Willie's mouth and instinctively rolled over wincing in pain as I felt the hot liquid now pouring down on my thighs, along my tender stomach area, and continuing upwards on my hairless chest and toward my face.
Reflexively, I raised my hands to protect my face as I felt Willie going back down on my dick again.
"Put your hands back down, boy!" My father demanded. I obeyed instantly, placing my right arm down by my side and my left across Willie's legs lying next to me. "Willie, my son, has won the place as my wife, but you think you have won by not being chosen!"
Continuing in his Sunday school, preacher role, Pa's voice echoed in the darkness of his cowl. "Release his cock, Willie ...now wife! Never again in our presence will he enjoy the release of his cum in pleasure. Kneel naked beside me, my wife, and look down upon our worthless servant."
Willie let my limp cock plop from his lips and rose to kneel beside my Pa, as he was instructed. In the candle glow I beheld the reflection of mad joy in his eyes as he grinned evilly down at me.
Pa then instructed Willie to bring them drink, meanin' beer, to celebrate their union. While Willie was out of the room, Pa bent down to me. His hand suddenly struck my face hard, back and forth. Shock dulled the pain of his violence toward me at first, but not for long. My eye was still sore from his fist before. Kneeling on my left, he brought his face close to mine. "You think you won, boy? Not in your life! You should have tried harder. Tried harder to take you place as my wife, boy!" His voice changed somehow as it cracked his next words.
"So much like your beautiful mother. So much. I could have loved you, boy! Now, now ..., I'm gonna have teach you how to be a good, willing and obedient servant!" he continued when he heard Willie come back in the room with the beers and he struck me across the face again.
After taking a beer from Willie, Pa told him to kneel down at the back of my head. Soon, their kneeling bodies rose in front and in back over my face; shadowy monoliths in the flickering candlelight. Pa's knees settled nestled beneath my armpits, his dark robe opened to reveal his muscular and hairy torso high above me and his pendulous balls swung only inches away from my chin. His fat cockhead dripped pre-cum on my quivering lips.
Willie's knees pressed against the sides of my head, and though I couldn't see him very well from his position behind me, I could feel the tension in his legs and the warmth of his crotch above me. "Oh, gee, Paw! I didn't bring any beer for our slave here. Do you want me to get him one, too?"
Pa laughed at that. "He'll get his beer directly, when we're done with him. Drink up, Willie, my wife, we have quite a night ahead of us!"
Willie obeyed and downed his beer in seconds. Pa slid down away from my face until his cock and balls rest just below my own.
"Now, wife, give this servant beneath you that cock of yours to suck on and bring your mouth down to mine!"
Willie didn't hesitate. Complete darkness covered over me as Willie pushed his cock into my mouth and lay over my body to go down on Pa's cock. His hairy balls slapped at my nose and his cock began to swell in my mouth. His weight pushed it deeper into my mouth until it began to snake its way down into my throat.
I could feel his face, or at least his chin, occasionally bumping into my groin as he began to suck on Pa's cock and lick at his balls. His slobber dripped onto my cock and balls and Pa would tell him to lick it off me and then get back on his cock again. Each time he did this, my cock responded by swelling and bouncing its erection beneath Willie's neck and chin. I could feel Pa's heat from his balls against my own.
Willie began a pumping motion with his hips, drawing and pushing his cock in and out of my throat. I could hear him grovel hungrily while licking at Pa's cock and balls. He was mumbling his excitement. "Oh, God, Pa! So good! Mmmm. So good! Whose cock is in whose mouth now, bitch!" he said to me.
"I'm fucking his face, Pa! Finally! I'm making him eat me! Fucking! Fucking! Eating you, Pa! Give me your cum, Pa! Oh, please, shoot it in me! I'm gonna drown'm, Pa. Drown'm in my cum! So hot! Can I cum, Pa? Please, can I cum? Can I make him swallow my load?"
"Soon, boy, soon. Not yet," Pa's voice whispered back to him. Willie's cock kept pumping in my mouth, filling it with spit and pre-cum, and stretching my jaw and throat muscles. His balls would slap hard against the bridge of my nose; his sweaty hairs, skin, and sex odor filled my nostrils. My stomach would involuntarily heave from almost choking, the bile rising and receding, mixing in with the spit and pre-cum juices now overflowing from my lips and dripping down the sides of my face. Sometimes he would just rest his full weight down over my face, over my nose and mouth, and his cock totally impaling my throat and I felt like I was gonna suffocate. Tears ran involuntarily down from my eyes and down my cheeks. How much more of this was I supposed to take?
Pa suddenly told Willie to stop what he was doing and to remove his cock from my mouth. Obediently, he did this without hesitation. He must have sensed his pleasures with me weren't over yet. Now that Pa was finally letting him put his cock in me, he was going to enjoy every second of it.
"Turn him over, boy!" I heard Pa command his new wife. In the move on to my stomach Pa's hands held my wrists behind me tightly as my face fell into Willie's crotch, my lips on his balls. He held me there in place. "When I let go of them, you're to keep your hands to your side, boy, no matter what!" he said to me.
To Willie, he said, "Now you feed him your cock again. Work him good, boy! Give him your cum! I'll be right back." I felt Pa's body move away from mine.
Pa had given Willie the go ahead to use me. Willie's enthusiasm was doubled and his joy was palpable. "You heard him, bitch," Willie sneered at me. "Open up, and suck my hard cock ...slave!" He pulled at my hair and fed my protesting mouth with his rigid pole. He held my head tightly with both hands and began to pump it fast and furious over his cock, shoving my mouth down to meet his crotch hairs and swallowing his entire dick. Faster and faster he pumped his cock into me; his erection probing and stabbing inside my mouth and throat. Spit accumulated at an incredible rate and poured down upon his tube, balls and my chin. My lips slid up and down his spit-lubed and vein swollen cock! With me lying flat on the floor and him holding my head up, the position was awkward, and his cock jabbed something fierce at the back of my throat. When it would kind of 'jam up' there, he'd push harder so that he'd force his cockhead to find my throat opening and push down again till it snaked itself all the way in and my face met his pubic hair.
At times he'd hold me so that just the head of his cock was in my mouth. He ordered me to suck at the head, swirl my tongue around it and suck it some more. Then he'd shove me down, pushing his swollen prick all the way in again. He began to make guttural, heaving sounds each time my face met his crotch and he shoved his cock deeper and harder down my throat, holding me down longer each time.
He made a groaning like sound and I knew it was time. He gave my head one last shove and kept my face buried in his sweaty crotch with his cock all the way down my gullet. Holding it there, he began to add a frantic pumping motion with his hips and I knew he was getting close to shooting his load! He made guttural grunting noises with every push against my face, as if he could will his cock to go even further down.
"Here it cums, you little fuck! Suck it! Take it all, you bitch, you fuck! Suck me! Suck me! Suck me! Eat it! Drink it! NOW! Oh! Oh! Yes! You bastard! Yes! Swallow me! Down ...your ...throat!"
His thick cum began blasting directly down my throat until he pulled my head up some and then it began to shoot in my mouth. He'd let his cum gather there and then, pushing forward, his cockhead would shovel each bevy of it deep down into my throat. I kept swallowing his cum and every time he hollered something, he pumped more cum into me!
I never heard Pa come into the room, but just as Willie began his grunting, I felt a sharp, stinging pain at my back. I was being whipped! It felt like his wide, leather belt and he kept whacking me with it across my exposed back and ass cheeks as Willie kept shoving his cum-shooting cock into my mouth. Pa had used his strap on me before, but never so hard.
Though he'd finished cumming, Willie continued to push my face into his crotch, his cock still filling my throat. In between the belt stropping across my back, Pa kept spanking my ass with his powerful hands.
"Your cock still strong, boy?" Pa asked Willie.
"Oh, yeah, Pa! Mighty strong, I could feed him some more, Pa, if you want me to!"
"Take this," I heard him say, but couldn't see what he was referring to. "Put it in his mouth then come down here and bring your cock to your servant's ass!"
The candles were providing less and less light in the room. I could barely see, but I felt Willie exchanged his cock with some cloth he began to push into my mouth. In very short time, by the smell and the taste, I realize it was one of their soiled socks. My stomach retched at the taste and I would have grabbed for it and pulled it back out, but I felt my hands being pulled behind me and bound in clothesline rope to rest on the small of my back.
I was so near to panic! What were they going to do to me? My back and ass were now beginning to feel the searing pain from Pa's whipping. My right cheek and all about my left eye were also stinging with pain from Pa's hand hitting me there earlier. Tears began to gather and flow down my cheeks as I briefly lay my head down on the dirty carpet below me. The darkness hid my shame, as I felt my face being wrapped in another piece of clothing, which turned out, to little surprise, to be one of Pa's used jock straps. The odor within permeated my nostrils, and there was no way to escape it. It was soaking wet with piss.
"Now, boy, enter your servant's ass, and I will enter yours, as is prop-ah, for a husband to take from his wife." Pa's voice boomed throughout the room. Even with my face covered in Pa's smelling jockstrap, I could tell he must have lit a lamp in the room. I might have tried to figure out what more they was plannin' to do, but the bitter taste and irritating dryness of the dirty sock in my mouth, and the acrid smell of the piss wet jockstrap against my nose-not to mention the pain in my back and face-was all too distracting to think of anything that could get me out of this nightmare. My senses were being pulled in too many different directions. Sometimes I felt myself slipping out of myself and just going into this dark nothingness.
I suddenly felt the cold, wet slap of something thick and greasy against my sore ass-cheeks.
"Good," I heard my Pa say. "Grease him up, boy! Yes, that's it. Suck your husband's cock. Lube me up, my baby. Soon you'll be mine for always!"
I remember thinking that it was all so sick. All this ritual, it was some demented game Pa chose to act out. I knew he'd fucked Willie before, so this wasn't like it was the first time. This wife thing was just some perverted game he was playing, and poor Willie's pea-brain would go right along with it.
Willie plunged his fat cock deep within my ass. I grunted and groaned my protest to no one who would listen. Soon I felt the additional weight of the force against my ass and knew that Pa had begun to fuck Willie.
My body rocked and rubbed against the dirty, rough carpet beneath me as my ass was pushed back and forth with each forceful penetration by Willie's horny cock. My bound wrists ached from the rubbing pressure of Willie's weight against the small of my back. It seemed to go on forever and I prayed for it to end quickly. I even began to hump up to my brother's cock to encourage him to cum. Of course he mistook that for enthusiasm.
"Oh yeah! He loves it, Pa! Yeah, fuck me, Pa! Fuck me! Give me your blessed cum! I'm going to shoot it into my slave when you shoot yours into me, Pa! Oh, yeah! Fuck! Fuck! N-n-n-Now, Pa! I'm cumming! I'm cumming up his ass, Pa! Take me! Take me!"
Pa's voice joined in with Willie's plea. "Yes, now boy, I'm cumming too! In you, in him, cumming! Fucking my sons! My wife! Fucking! Fucking! Aaaahhhhhh!
They began pumping all the harder, smashing my sore body into the floor as they came, Willie in my ass, Pa in his. I could barely breathe, my face so covered up and my mouth still stuffed with that dirty sock. It had since absorbed some of the piss from the jockstrap over my face, so when I bit into the nasty cloth to help against the pain of their assault, I also squeezed the bitter piss juices into my mouth.
Slowly, their movements ebbed to a peaceful stillness and heavy breathing. Willie collapsed on my back and Pa on Willie. Their combined weight liked to crush me completely and intensified the pain in my wrists!
"Oh, Pa," Willie gasped, "That was beautiful. I'm really your wife now, ain't I?"
Pa said nothing to his question.
"Pa, I got to pee!" Willie said.
"You mean, you want to give your servant that beer you forgot, don't you?"
"Huh? What do you mean, Pa? Oh! Oh, yeah! The beer! I almost forgot again!"
Pa rose up and Willie did the same. The sudden exposure of my back to the air chilled me but I didn't have time to think about that for long. Willie came around to my head and removed the jockstrap from my face and the sock from my mouth. Naturally I gasped for as much air as I could as my body was flipped over unceremoniously and Willie squatted over my face. "Here's your beer, boy! Better drink every drop, too! Right, Pa!"
"That's right, baby. He'd best not lose a drop and you best not lose a drop of mine!" Pa walked over and fed his cock to a surprised Willie as Willie shoved his cock back into my mouth.
I gagged at the taste of my own shit which had lightly coated Willie's cock and again at the first flood of his piss now beginning to pour more rapidly into my mouth. His piss was bitter and salty, and I kept swallowing it as fast as I could, but I just could not keep up with the rapid flow and some of it overflowed my lips and spilled to the floor.
I could hear Willie gulping at Pa's pissing cock above me, and evidently, he wasn't doing any better than me, 'cause I felt Pa' warm piss that he couldn't swallow spilling down on to me. Willie suddenly coughed and Pa's cock popped out from his mouth, his remaining piss spraying at Willie's face and down, landing again on my face and hair.
"S-s-sorry, Pa!" Willie cried.
Pa slammed Willie on the side of his head, knocking him down and off of me. "You idiot! You wasted MY piss!"
"Pa, I didn't mean to! I jes coughed, I couldn't help it. Don't be mad at me, Pa. I'll be a good wife, you'll see."
"Wife? What the fuck are you talkin' about? You're a fuckin' man, you idiot, you can't be my fuckin' wife!"
"But, but, Pa! You said...," Willie was stunned.
"That was a game! You retarded pig! You're my son, not my wife! You'll suck my dick, and I'll fuck your ass anytime I feel like it. And this piece of shit down here will take care of both of us, from now on! An' if you ever miss a drop of my piss again, I'll beat the living shit out of you! You understand now, you dummy!"
"Yeah, Pa. I understand." He answered softly. He understood, but was hurt deeply.
"Untie our piss bowl on the floor here. Time we went to bed." Pa walked over and picked up the robe he must have taken off earlier when I couldn't see, and with the candles and the big book in his other hand he left the room.
Willie's eyes shone with hate, so I knew not to say anything to him. Turning me over, he untied my wrist, which were now red and painful then flipped me back. I could barely feel my fingers. Somewhat relieved, I brought my hands around to the front, massaging each wrist. Willie stood up and kicked me in my ribs with his bare foot. "Put yer hands down!" he demanded and I obeyed. "So, I don't get to be Pa's wife, like he let you be. But you still got to serve us! Serve us both! He placed his bare foot on my face. "Lick it! Serve me, slave! Lick my foot!"
I stuck out my tongue and began to lick the sole of his foot, afraid to do anything but exactly what he told me to do. I licked at his foot and kept my eyes peeled on him. Willie looked to be twice his size, standing above me as he was. His muscles were tensed and tight and his anger shook him. He began to lean on the foot that he held to my face. I thought at any minute he would take his foot and crush my skull with it.
"Suck my toes!" he ordered, and began to pry my mouth open to impossibly push all of them at once between my lips.
"All right," I heard Pa say. "That's enough for tonight. The boy'll be sleeping at the bottom of the bed as usual and he can suck your toes all night while we sleep." He looked down at me. "This is only the beginning for you, boy. You got a lot o' chores to do around here tomorrow and you'll be taking good care of our cocks and anything else you're told to take care of. You understand?"
I nodded my head sheepishly. I was so exhausted and in so much pain, I hadn't the strength to do much of anything else. I could barely move.
"S'matter, boy? Can't get up off the floor? Fine, you'll sleep down there tonight. Here. Put this on." He handed me the old housedress I had on earlier.
"Tha's your uniform, boy," he added. "You'll wear it night and day. And from now on, you'll eat your meals in a bowl on the floor like the dog you are. In no time at all, you're gonna be happily licking our feet, our balls our assholes on command. And by the time I'm through with you, my little bitch, you'll be begging for the whipping I gave you tonight!"
His words rang in my ears as I struggled in pain to put on the housedress. Willie laughed and sneaked in another kick to my side. Pa caught him though, and cuffed him again. "You don't pass out no corporal punishment around here! I do! And jus' for that, you sleep with your face in my crotch and my cock in your mouth all night, y' hear me, boy?"
Hardly displeased with his punishment, Willie smiled dumbly and said, "Yes, sir!"
Pa tossed a raggedy pillow and worn, thin blanket at me. "You crawl to that corner over there and don't you make no noise. I plan on sleepin' late this Sunday but there'll be no restin' fo' you! I got lots of fun plans ahead You think about that in your corner while your whanking your cock off, remembering the fun we gave you tonight!" He chuckled evilly down at me.
Willie opened the curtains and turned out the lamp while Pa opened the sofa bed and together they crawled in under the blankets. Willie slid down beneath as he was instructed and I crawled painfully over to my corner as I was instructed.
Somehow, in some way, I was gettin' out of here. I didn't know how or where I could go. I didn't rightly care, neither. I'd rather die out there in the cold, than stay here another day in this madhouse. Pa's list of all the things I would be expected to do played out in my mind and disgusted me. But as I thought these thoughts I got mad at myself because my cock, beneath the housedress, was as hard a rock and belied my repulsion.
The cold, full moon is an unfeeling thing. I laid quietly in the darkness, broken only by its light playfully tossing odd shadows about the room. The pain in my face and along my body made it impossible to fall asleep, which in its way was fortunate. I sat motionless listening to the deep snores of my father and the muffled half-sucking sounds coming from my brother from under the blanket of the sofa bed. I'd secretly prayed Willie would accidentally bite Pa's cock right off him in his sleep, but that, of course, hadn't happened.
After what seemed like hours, when I thought it was safe, I got up off the floor and with cramped, searing pain I stood up. I must have been bleeding on my back because I felt the housedress I wore tug at my skin where it must have dried and stuck to it. In the near total darkness, I looked around for something else I could wear outside. I teetered uncontrollably from stiffness and weariness and in the dark it felt like I was bumping into everything in the room with every move I made, like a pinball bouncing around uncontrollably from cushion to cushion. I had this image of a bull in a china shop and was certain my clumsiness would be the death of me when Pa woke up from hearing me trying this useless escape.
In a strip of moonlight on the floor, I grabbed a pair of socks I spied and quietly balanced myself against the wall and put them on. I took the stained and smelly pillowcase off the pillow in my corner and tucked and worked it into something I could wear on my head.
I remembered the ragged overcoat I came here with was somewhere close to the door. Padding my way quietly to it, I felt around and found it. Though it ached trying to shove my raw wrists into its sleeves, I managed to do it without making any noise. I stuffed the thin blanket inside the coat to add to its warmth.
I hunted, but could not see my shoes anywhere. I did felt around and in the dark I found a pair of my Pa's boots and carried them with me. I was so feeble and wrist sore that suddenly one of them slipped from my fingers and dropped heavily to the floor.
Movement in the bed nearly stopped my heart beating. I waited motionless. My eyes were wide with fearful expectation; I held my breath in a solid lump within my throat. Sweat beaded on my face, my teeth clenched and the temples at my head hurt from the suspense. Years in silence went by but thankfully, nothing more happened. I slowly exhaled my fear and I knew I couldn't wait another second. I carefully picked up the fallen boot then crept to the door. Inch by inch, I opened it as quietly as I could. The tiniest creak sounded like thunder to my ears before I finally opened it enough to allow my small frame to squeeze out from my prison and push open the equally noisy screen door with my back.
The bitter coldness was sharp, and the wind stung my face like little needles as my body made contact with the outside air. While shifting Pa's boots into my other hand, with the screen door to my back, a freezing burst of air blew past me and into the house. I could hear sudden movement from in the house and I prayed as I closed the door that it was only Pa or Willie tossing in the sofa bed.
I quietly shut the main door behind me and slowly turned around to face the night. Moving to the side, I let the screen door close softly using one of Pa's boots to guide it shut. The snow up against the house started to soak my socks, so I bent to put Pa's boots on. They swam on my much smaller feet before I even noticed they had no laces on them. I didn't care. I looked up and saw the sparkling snow and the crisscrossing, moonlit shadows in the frozen vista before me and stepped out into my uncertain future."
"All I could think about was that I had to get away. I had to go ...somewhere, anywhere ...and I stepped out into the snow and kept on moving. It felt like I'd been walking forever when the sky looked like it was trying to lighten up to the day. Through my tired eyes I thought I saw a small building up ahead and I quickened my pace in hope that I might find some shelter there. To cold to be afraid, I opened the door to this old shed and squinted into the dark of it to see if I could get in. It seemed to be empty, so I crept in and I guess I just collapsed to the floor and fell dead asleep.
I woke up in terror to the vision of my Pa coming at me with a chain saw, swearing to God above he was going to chop me to a thousand bits. The overwhelming sound of the chainsaw continued on even after I woke and stood up. It was the noise of some kind of engine running outside of the shed and I nearly died of fright, certain Pa had followed my tracks in the snow and found me.
I opened the shed door slowly and just caught the glimpse of somebody heading away in some kind of motorized sleigh. I waited to see if it would come back and after a while, when it didn't return, I started out again. I didn't know what time it was now 'cause the sky was dark gray and I couldn't see where the sun was in the sky. The snow started fallin' again and the wind picked up somethin' fierce. Still I kept walking across barren fields and through pine filled woods for what seemed like hours.
I was getting dizzy from the cold and I thought I saw another shed up ahead when I realized I'd just walked around in a big circle. Oh Lord, I was miserable! I started to cry while I was walkin' and somewhere along the way I must have walked right out of my Pa's boots. I don't know. I just remember getting colder and colder and more and more tired. The snow was coming down real heavy again and I think I remember seeing your house, Cal, but I'm not sure. I thought, somewhere, I heard a loud bang and then, the next thing I knew, I was here ...with you."
Cal listened quietly to the boy's story. Sometimes they sat together on the sofa and Cal would hold the boy in his arms as he talked. He would hug the boy to him when he felt the boy shudder at memories difficult to recall. Together they sat while gazing at the fire and Cal would shudder at the thought of all that Skip had gone through. The boy hadn't reached his cabin until nearly 4:30, so he'd been out there nearly twelve hours with only a few minutes of sleep and shelter. It was a wonder he just hadn't fallen down in despair and froze to death.
Cal's mind snapped back to the present and he looked back at the boy happily busy at the sewing machine. "Skip. What do you say we go into town for a bite to eat?"
Saturday, April 3rd, the day before Palm Sunday, the mall in Bessemer was crowded with shoppers taking advantage of the Easter sales being announced with huge posters of baby bunnies, ducks, chicks and colored eggs in a variety of realistic and cartoon displays. Polychromatic exhibits decoratively adorned every store front while digitalized music echoed throughout the building.
Rusty and the Bueford twins, John and Matthew, were lazily meandering about on their way to the Home Depot, taking in all the sights and the sounds the looming halls had to offer. They also were checking out the young, giggling girls traveling in groups of three or four and flitting from one store to another. The Bueford boys' eyes were hungry with lust, while Rusty's mind was working out how to maneuver the twins into some compromising fun and games. He did have to pick up a few things at the Depot, and he asked the boys to come along to give him a hand. After seeing Willie slurping up the boys' cocks at Milo's, he had high hopes for other things, but he hadn't a clue how to get it started. Intimidating a sixteen year old boy like Clyde's son, Teddy, was one thing. Getting these randy young men to do more than get their dicks sucked was another think altogether.
He figured it was getting them in the right place at the right time while they were so horny and so sex crazed, they'd be willing to do most anything to get off. He had the place, right here in the mall. He certainly had the time, but he needed a trigger to get the boys' guns fired off.
Rusty Balls had a younger, half-brother named Malachi. He nicknamed him Blue because he thought Blue Balls would be funny. Blue worked as a janitor for the shopping center and had a private, little room in the cavernous basement below in which the slow witted man often retreated to masturbate while gazing at kiddie-porn. He loved looking at little girls, but he wasn't opposed to imaginary, good times playing with little boys either. Fortunately for children everywhere he had neither the intelligence, nor social skills to make his perversion a reality. He told Rusty about his secret hide-a-way and often let him use it for his own devices.
Now, Rusty was currently trying frantically to figure out how he could tempt the twins down there for a heated romp, but any ideas he came up with never seemed to have a germ of actually working.
They were walking by a Friendly's Restaurant when he caught a familiar face out of the corner of his eye. It was the boy. It was Clyde's boy! The youngest one that ran away-sure as hell, sitting opposite some big guy in a booth eating a burger and fries. The man opposite the young boy had his back to Rusty so he couldn't tell who he was, but he was for sure positive that that was Clyde's kid. Hell, he should know. He had the boy's face up close and personal as well as down below and personal as well. He looked at his watch, noted it was nearly four o'clock.
That memory made his mouth water and his dick stir along with a really good idea. He turned to the Bueford twins, "Guys, how would you like to play detectives?"
Matthew and John's eyes stretched wide open. "Sure! Cool!" they said, "What's up?"
"Now don't go starin', but take a quick look in that restaurant window. See that pretty, dark haired boy sitting at the booth to the left? The little one-he's with the big guy."
"Oh yeah, I see him," Matthew said.
"Looks like he's with that cop, Calvary Edwards," said John.
"Cop?" Rusty whined.
"Well, he ain't a cop no more, I hear. He lives up apiece from where Clyde and Willie live. Got himself shot, I hear, can't work no more ...something like that." John finished with a dull shrug.
"Hmmm. I see. Well look here, I want you two boys to keep a watch over those two in there. That there kid is Clyde's youngest boy, just come to live with him and gone off missing. I'm gonna go call Clyde and let him know we found him. Should work out good for all of us."
"That's Clyde's kid?" Matthew asked. "Shoot! No way! He's too pretty to be Clyde's boy. Ah mean, look at Clyde and Willie, and look at that boy! He don't look nothin' like either one of them, 'cept he has dark hair!"
"Never mind that, take my word for it. That is Clyde's boy, I ought to know I...," he started to tell them more, but thought better of it, "...I picked him up at the bus station for Clyde. So you just keep a look out. If they take off, follow them and call my cell phone number to let me know where they go to. You got it?"
"Sure, we got it!" they answered together. "What's in it for us?"
"Well, come on, boys! The joy of seeing that lost child being reunited with his rightful paw! Ain't that reward enough?"
"Yeah, right, Rusty! If you even had a heart, we might have believed you was sincere, but knowin' otherwise, you'd better have somethin' better then that B.S.!"
"Oh, fine!" he sighed, knowing he'd lost that round. "Okay. Remember how good it felt at Milo's when Willie was suckin' on you boys' cocks? Well, think about how good it's going to be to havin' both of Clyde's boys workin' on you!"
The twins turned to each other and grinned. "You mean that pretty thing in there is gonna suck our cocks?"
"When Clyde tells him to suck down ...do you think he'll refuse? Do you know anyone who would refuse to do what Clyde tells 'em to do?" Rusty grinned conspiratorially, his full eyebrows wiggling up and down.
"Okay," said John. "But what do we do about that Calvary guy?"
"You don't do nothin' but follow 'em. Keep an eye out and don't you go losin' 'em! I'll get back to you real soon. There are phones all over the mall. You got quarters? You remember my cell number"
They nodded in unison.
"Good. You call me anytime they go to some other store"
Rusty's excitement was growing and it was contagious. The young men were grinning ear to ear with enthusiasm. "What are you going to do, Rusty?" asked Matthew.
"I'm going to call Clyde! I told you!"
"Well why don't you just do that right now? Right here?" John spoke.
"I...I got to do something else first." Thinking fast on his feet was not Rusty's forte. "Never you mind all that, just do like I said and I promise you, you'll have a fine time later!" The little man stalked away, leaving the twins to their watch.
"This is so cool!" Matthew said to John.
"I'm gonna fuck that pretty one up his little shoothole! Guaranteed!" John promised Matthew.
"I'm gonna fuck him in his mouth and up his ass!" Matthew answered.
"Yeah? Well I'm gonna do that, and the same thing to Willie too!" John added, grabbing his crotch. "I'm gonna make them swallow my cum and take it up their asses too! Maybe I'll piss on 'em for good measure!"
"Oh yeah? Well, that's nothing. I'm gonna ....Oh shit! Move out of the way! They's coming out of there!"
The twins quickly moved over to the window nearest them and began dutifully window browsing. It was a window display of women's handbags and shoes.
They slowly turned their heads simultaneously to watch the pair exit the restaurant. After a few moments, the man and boy separated and went in opposite directions.
"Oh shit!" said Matthew, desperately. "What do we do now?"
"Fuck!" said John. "Okay. You follow Calvary. As soon as you find out which store he goes into, call Rusty and tell him. Then keep watchin' him in case he leaves that store. Don't take your eyes off him. I'll follow the kid and do the same thing. Rusty will tell us what to do then, I reckon."
"Hell! Why don't you follow Calvary and let me follow the pretty one?" Matthew protested.
"Oh, shoot, Matt, don't start with that! What difference does it make now? Jes' do as I say, or we're gonna lose them both ...and ain't neither of us gonna do any fuckin'!"
That argument made sense to Matthew and the boys took off after their individual quarry.
So much color and music, Skip's blood pulsed with excitement when he and Cal entered the busy mall! Of course, he'd seen malls before in Jacksonville, but it had been different somehow. Now he was with Cal and his whole world seemed different, more full and certain. Everything was brighter, clearer. Easter should have been a serious, religious day of remembrance, but here, at the mall it was more like an inventive, commercial enterprise. For Skip, it was more like Valentine's Day-love was definitely in the air! Walking about the mall with Cal, his delighted eyes saw things with a whole new perspective. Pretty figurines in the windows were suddenly beautiful sculpture. Simple details of design were exquisite innovations. Even the mall's digitally electronic music became a symphony orchestra, playing love songs just for the two of them.
Cal too, walked on air. He held his arm around Skip's shoulders in what appeared a fatherly embrace, but gripped him with a lover's fervor! Every moment that went by, he wanted to lift the boy to him and kiss his soft lips deeply and passionately, enveloping him so fully in his arms they would meld together as one. His spirit flew watching the boy's excitement over each new thing he pointed at to see and share in. He had no more doubts. No longer would he question his feelings for his ward, his passion, his lover. Yes, lover, he told himself. He would now always relish being father and lover to that youthful soul that meant everything to him.
Conveniently, passersby would only see a devoted father holding his son to him as they walked from store to store. Cal's height, in contrast to Teddy's, made the boy seem even younger and in need of a father's attentive devotion. In reality, they were a universe unto themselves, oblivious to others around them. They wandered about, stopping at various window displays, discussing what they saw and always, always feeling so very aware of each other. Arms and hands continually touching, connecting, they made their way around the shopping center until they found themselves sitting comfortably in a booth at Friendly's, eating lunch and conversing happily over burgers and fries.
"Are you enjoying yourself, Skip?" Cal asked rhetorically. The boy's countenance already confirmed that.
"Oh, yes, Cal! This is so great! I love it here! This is the best burger I ever ate!" he said as he washed a bite down with his coke.
"I'm glad you're having a good time...son." Cal said, nervously watching for Teddy's reaction.
Teddy looked up, wide-eyed with stunned surprise. Seeing Cal's hopeful and nervous expression, made him smile and his eyes watered in tears.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Skip!" Cal said misunderstanding Teddy's tears. "I didn't mean to upset you. It ...it just seemed the right thing to say, and I hoped..."
"No, please don't be sorry, Cal! I would love for you to call me your son! I wish I really were! I would love to be your son, your..., Oh Cal, I am yours, in every way possible!" Teddy whispered back to him urgently.
Cal suddenly was at a loss for words. He had to remind himself sternly where he was or otherwise he would have kissed the boy right then and there. Instead, he reached across and rubbed the boy's full, dark hair with fatherly affection.
"As far as I'm concerned, you are my boy, Skip. My son, and... my life." he said with pride.
Teddy grabbed his napkin and wiped his eyes and blew his nose. "I love you ...dad!"
They sat in gregarious silence, their hearts chattering their devotion through their eyes. The waitress broke their moment, asking if they wanted anything more and leaving the check behind. "What would you like to do now?" Cal asked his newly adopted son and lover.
"Anything you want to do ...dad!" Teddy replied eagerly.
"Tell you what. I need to look at some light fixtures at the Depot. Why don't you just have yourself some fun and enjoy the mall for a while. I can meet you here in an hour. How's that?"
"Don't you want me to come with you?"
"Skip, I think you'll have a better time at an arcade than wondering up and down the aisles of the Home Depot with your ol' man!" he said, with a proud smile.
"Here, take this and go have some fun." He added, handing him a twenty dollar bill.
They got up from the table and Cal left some money for the waitress then paid the cashier for their lunch. When they left the restaurant, they never noticed the two, redheaded boys staring at them from in front of the women's accessories boutique nearby.
Just outside the Friendly's exit, Teddy said, "Thanks, dad. I'll be out front here in one hour waitin' for you!" Cal smiled at his 'son' as they parted in opposite directions.
"Did you hear that?" Matt rasped to John. "I thought Rusty said he was Clyde's kid?"
"Fuck that! That's Rusty's problem. Get going and follow Calvary before you lose him!" John pushed him forward, Matthew grudgingly continued on pursuing Cal.
John kept a discreet distance from Teddy's path and watched the boy's small frame wend its way in and out of the bustling throng of shoppers. His mouth watered at the slight, compact body with its arched back-the boy's bubble butt his main focus. His anticipation mounted with each step and his cock grew with increasing excitement.
He eyed the boy hungrily as he watched him stop and look into the arcade entryway. He paused by a cell phone kiosk and waited to see if the kid would go in. He did. A large, decorative clock on the wall of an upper landing of the mall read four-eighteen.
John waited briefly until he saw the boy purchase a handful of tokens. Confident the cute kid would be there for a while he walked up a few yards then pulled out his own cell phone that he kept secret from his brother Matt. "Rusty," he said after his call got through, "The kid's in the arcade by hisself. What you want me to do?"
"Jes' keep watchin' him. He don't know you, does he?"
"Hell, no. I never seed 'im before! I'd surely remember if I did!"
"Fine! You go in there. Hitch up with him. Act all friendly like and keep him there till I get back there. By the way, you sound funny. Where you callin' from?"
"Got m' own phone. Don't tell Matty. I was supposed to give him half the money our MeeMaw sent us for our birthday last week, but he don't know I got the card and then acted as if it never came in the mail.
"Whatever. That's your business. I don't give a rat's ass about it. You jes' git with that boy! His name is Theodore, or something, I think, but don't let on you know that. Give me your phone number in case I have to call you back."
John repeated his number twice and then clicked off. Eagerly, he headed back and into the arcade. The boy was at a pinball machine, pitifully outdated compared to the other, more computerized games, but it looked like he was having the time of his life. His body thrust and rolled with each press of the side buttons. His little butt weaved in and out, back and forth in a sensual dance with the silver ball that bounced from side to side and up and down the enclosed glass case.
John stood in back of the young, preoccupied boy and watched him play for a moment before he spoke. "You're pretty good at that," he said, his lips close to the boy's left ear.
Teddy's hands stopped moving; in seconds the silver ball, that had once been racking up points, slipped past his guard and irretrievably back into the machine. Frozen in place he waited, not sure what he heard or what to do.
"Oh, I'm sorry! Ah didn't mean to mess up your game! And you were doing so good, too!" The voice behind him very sincerely said, "Keep playing, I'm jes' watchin'. You don't mind, do yah?"
"Um, no I guess not," Teddy said, turning his head just enough to get a glimpse of the handsome, redheaded, freckled face, young man that was talking with warm breaths that tickled his ear. He took his hand and pulled back on the spring-knob that pushed another silver ball into play.
As he maneuvered the ball around the machine, he was very aware of the contact he was making with his body against the taller, older observer in back of him, and curious about the fact that not once did he move away or act concerned about it. On the contrary, if anything, the fellow stepped in closer, encouraging him to play harder with the words echoing warmly into his ear. He felt the heat rising in his neck. He was becoming aroused by the young man's personal contact and it began to show in his game. He lost two more silver balls with only minimal score and now he was certain this man in back of him was as hard as a rock down there.
As his last ball started to sink away, the young man gave a final shove of encouragement but served only to make certain that Teddy felt the hard cock within the jeans pressed against his butt and tilting the game.
"Oh, shit! I really am sorry!" the man said to him as pressed against the boy, both arms around him and leaning on the glass of the pinball machine. In this pose, he leaned way over Teddy's shoulder and in a very exciting and compromising position, he smiled at him. "Hi, my name is John. How about letting me buy you another game," he asked.
"Um, no that's okay. I've got more tokens. Thank you." Teddy straightened up and wriggled his way out of the man's confines.
"My, ain't you a polite, young kid! What's your name-"Pinball Wizard"?"
"Ah, Skip ...er Skip Edwards," he added.
"Well Skip Edwards, ah am mighty glad to meet a player of your caliber! The way you pull back that knob and shoot them balls ...ah bet you're jest about the best shooter around here!"
Feeling flattered and less threatened, Teddy blushed in his humility. "Oh, I guess I'm okay. But not great or anything..."
"Shoot, you're too humble, Skippy! Mind if I call you Skippy? Why, the way you moved around that machine, you're not only a great pinball wizard, but I'll bet your one hell of sex machine too!"
Now Teddy really blushed. "Well ...I ...uh..."
"Come on, don't be modest. I bet you drive your girlfriend crazy with those hip movements of yours!"
"Uh, I haven't got a girlfriend, I ...uh ..."
"Well, boyfriend then!
Teddy turned shocked eyes at the man.
"Shoot, don't look like that! It's cool, if that's what you're into. Hell, I'm a switch-hitter m'self! Personally, Skippy ...can I be honest with you?" he whispered to him. "I was kinda turned on watchin' you m'self, if you know what I mean," he said as he pointed out the obvious erection in his tight, faded jeans.
"Oh, well, I ..."
"Say, you know what? Could I have of picture of you and me? I'd surely like to have one of a champion pinball player and me together. See that machine in the back there? It takes pictures. Let's you and me get our picture took," he rambled on as he escorted Teddy towards the photo machine. "Here, jes' hop in."
He guided Teddy to the small booth and squeezed in with him closing the door behind them which automatically lit a light outside the machine letting others know it was occupied. It also had a hook lock to secure anyone from accidentally opening it while it was in operation.
"Tight squeeze in these things, ain't it? Here, why don't you jes' sit on m' lap and I'll put some quarters in." He lifted Teddy up and sat him down comfortably caressing his hard cock between the indent of the boys jeans where his ass crack would be. His left hand filled with quarters, he tossed eight of them in the slot. "There, that's better, ain't it? Smile!"
A sudden flash went off and Teddy was temporarily blinded and taken off guard. John's free right hand that had been holding Teddy around the waist, slipped down between the boys legs, landing precisely at the rising bulge in the nervous boy's denims.
Another flash. "Whew! This here is fun!" John said to the boy and pressed his lips to the boy's cheek! Teddy turned to him in surprise and found instead, his mouth was covered by a pair of hungry lips and a probing tongue that invaded deep inside him. Against everything he knew to be right, he found himself deliciously swallowing the roving tongue in his mouth and kissing the man in return. Two more flashes flooded the dark room as John increased his pressure on Teddy's rising cock, and a flood of guilt suddenly washed over the boy.
"No! I can't!" He tried to get up, but John held him steady.
"Alright, alright! Settle down. No one's gonna make you do anything. I jes' thought you'd like some attention, tha's all." John relaxed his grip on Teddy's waist. "I mean, I could tell you wanted to for a minute and I liked it. I liked it a lot. You are so pretty, you know. So, okay, we'll stop. Okay? You all right? See there. No harm done?" Teddy relaxed and grinned. "That's my buddy!" He lifted the boy off his lap. "Come on. Let's go get a coke or somethin'," he added as he opened the locked door. Frustrated, his erection had only just begun to slowly diminish.
They left the photo machine. "Let's go to Friendly's," Teddy suggested. "I have to meet ...my dad there."
"Well, maybe for just a little while. I'm sort of here on business myself." John told him.
They left the arcade, John's arm around Teddy's shoulder. Soon they were back at restaurant's familiar logo. Standing just outside of the place, stood a familiar face and one Teddy had hoped he'd never see again.
"Say hey, there, Theodore! Where have you been?" Rusty smiled broadly showing the world his nearly toothless smile. Teddy attempted to turn around but was held in place by the strong arms of his new friend.
"No, don't. I gotta get out of here. That guy is crazy!" he pleaded with John who only seemed to grin stupidly back at him.
"You ain't going nowhere, boy, 'cept back to y' daddy's home, where y' belong.
"No I won't go! You touch me and I'll make a real scene here. They'll take you to jail. I got a new paw now and he..."
Rusty leaned "You mean that big, ol' hick po-liceman? You think he's gonna be y' new daddy?"
He took Teddy's chin in his dirty, greasy hand. Your real daddy's taking care of him as we speak. And if you don't come along quietly in about thirty seconds, your new daddy's gonna be a dead daddy. You get m' drift, pretty boy?" He took the boy by the wrist.
Shaking him off, Teddy stood firmly. "You're lying! Cal's coming back for me real soon, and you're going to be in big trouble if you're still here." He said with a bravado he didn't really feel.
Taking his arm again, even more roughly, Rusty looked the boy in the eyes only inches from his face, his foul breath in Teddy's face. "Look, boy. I wish I was bull-shittin' you, but you know your daddy and what he can do. He's got your policeman lover for sure and if I don't bring you to him damn soon, he'll kill 'im sure!"
There was no doubting the truth in Rusty's words now. Teddy believed him, and with more fear than he ever felt in his life, he went peacefully with the two men, now escorting him, one on each side. It was now four-forty in the evening.
Back at the arcade, the photo machine made a series of clicks and thumps. Within moments after the boys left, a thin sheet of five photos fell into the slot outside the booth. A finely manicured hand reached down and grabbed them up.
The Home Depot swarmed with hobby and home builder enthusiasts. Cal found what he needed and headed to the registers to pay for his purchases. He stopped briefly to look at a display of chainsaws when he heard a voice behind him.
"Nice equipment there. Could cost you an arm and a leg, though, if'n yer not careful."
"Peaceable Drummer, what are you doing here?" Cal asked the tall, lanky man grinning at him.
"Well, I'm afraid I got some bad news for you, Calvary." Cal body posture rose and flushed in anticipation. "But, hey now, don't be killin' the messenger, I had nothing to do with this." This was the favor Clyde wanted of him in lieu of getting back the infamous tape of his rape at Milo's. Giving Cal this message was his final payment.
"Nothing to do with what, Drummer? Make it quick, I've got things to do."
"Oh, I'm sure you do, what with that fine new 'son' of yours and ..."
Cal quickly grabbed Peaceable by his collar. "What do you know about Skip?"
Nervously, Peace stammered. "Skip, is it now, huh? Well, well, isn't that nice." The tall man gripped him even harder. "Now, now, Cal, remember where you are?" he said looking around at some folk who stopped to look on at what was happening. "Calm down. I'll tell you what you need to know."
Cal released him and brushed his lapel, "Well, that'll be fine, Drummer. You just do that." He told him with an intense stare directly into the man's eyes.
"Look, I got a call, see, from the boy's daddy, Clyde Burrows. Now I'm sure it's just a mix-up of some kind, but he's claiming you kidnapped his boy and he wants him back home. He says he 'understands' your feelings for his kin, and just might be able to work something out, peaceable like, if you'll just meet him half-way."
"You tell that kid abusing son-of-a-bitch, he so much as goes near that boy," Cal growled to Peace, "I'll plant his sorry hide in the woods so far and so deep a redwood growin' there'll be a hundred years old before they know he's missing.
"Well, you see, Clyde thought you might feel that way, so he's already got the boy..."
"What? What?" Calvary dropped the items in his left hand and grabbed the stunned Drummer and shoved him up against the chainsaw display. "Where, where is he? You'd better tell me, Drummer, or you're going down with him!"
"Easy Cal, please don't hurt me! I mean it, I'm not a part in this, I'm only telling you what Clyde told me to tell you!"
"Then tell me," the big man ordered.
"There's this place, here in the mall, a hidin' place that Clyde knows about. He's got your boy down there. Says you're to meet with him down there and talk things over. Work up a deal of some sort..."
"What deal? What does he want?" Cal's face reddened with anger.
"I don't know. Really, I don't. He just told me to show you where he is! That's all."
An elderly salesman in the familiar Home Depot apron came over to them. "Is there some problem here, boys. Why don't you just take this outside the store, please."
"No problem, sir," Cal told the salesman. He then straightened Drummer up. "Me and my friend here were just leaving. Come on, buddy, why don't you show me that new store you were telling me about?" He said dramatically, guiding Peaceable to the exit.
They left the Depot and Peace guided him down the mall to a maintenance elevator. They got in and went down two levels. The doors open to an underground maze of pipes and machinery all designed to keep the water, temperature and electricity of the mall in a constant, uninterrupted flow. Their footsteps echoed through various passageways until Peace stopped told him to go to the door up ahead of them.
"Where are you going?'' Cal asked him.
"This is as far as Clyde said I should go. He wants to talk to you alone."
"So help me, Drummer, if this is some kind of bullshit, I'll find you and you will be one sorry assed prick. Do you understand me?"
"Cal, I'm already one sorry assed prick, and believe me, you could not do me worse than what Clyde could do if I don't do as he tells me."
"We'll see about that. That dumb-shit, ignorant bastard don't know who he's fucking with this time."
"Be careful, Cal. That's all I have to say. That man has not a feeling bone in his body. No soul at all, and his boy, Willie, 's not much better!"
Cal squeezed his eyes at Peace and turned to study the door ahead of him. When he turned back, Peaceable Drummer was gone; his echoing footsteps fading in the distance. Cal couldn't know it, but Peaceable had one more errand to run. One he could barely contain his enthusiasm over.
Expecting trouble, he approached the door cautiously, assuming someone would be behind it, ready to do no good. He turned the cold knob and the door clicked open. He flung the door so that whoever was behind it would get a good shot of steel slammed into him. The door clanged against the wall behind it. It was obviously a utility room and it was brightly lit. Sitting in a chair on the opposite of the room was Clyde Burrows grinning ear to ear.
"Now, you didn't think I had somebody back there of that door, did you?" Cal started to approach Clyde. "When it would be a whole lot smarter to have somebody out in back of you instead!"
Cal felt his head explode and an intense flash of light was the last thing he saw until he began to wake up again. He knew he was still in the utility room, by the smell of the cleaning chemicals, but his eyes were blindfolded and his hands tied behind him. He lay on his stomach on the cold cement floor and he was completely naked and now he was aware of the pain in back of his head and someone in there with him with a deep, rumbling giggle.
"Mighty hard but sturdy head you got there, Mr. Calvary Edwards, or should I call you sheriff or officer or...just what should I call you?" Clyde's voice rang out in the room over the strange giggling.
"Burrows! What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Call said through his pain, recognizing the voice. "Do you know what kind of trouble you are in? Do have any idea what the courts will do to you for kidnapping a police officer?"
"Hoo-wee! That's a good one!" Clyde laughed. "Well now, I suppose, maybe, your are still 'somewhat' of a po-lice-man, even though you was retired a mite early, but tell me this, Mr. Law and Order, do you know what the courts will do to you for kidnapping a little boy from his lovin' papa's home and then sexually molesting that same poor child?"
"You son of bitch! You're the fucking molester, you piece of crap!" Cal's mouth foamed with fury, as he turned to his side to scream in the direction of Clyde's voice.
"G'back on yore stomach, pervert po-liceman!" He heard from behind him. Willie, he presumed correctly, just as a booted foot pushed him over again and added a kick to his ribs..
"Ow! Fuck!" Cal cried out.
"Fuck? Fuck, did you say?", Clyde echoed. "Well now that sounds like a very good idea. And my, how convenient of you to drop by, take off your clothes and be so ...available for just such an activity. The police, nowadays, are so very accommodatin'!
"Now let me tell you what we're gonna be doing here, my big woodsman. I am gonna untie you, and take that blind fold off of you, and then, we're havin' a little party. I have a few friends here who are gonna be joinin' in, and ....a movie picture camera to, you know, keep all those memories fresh 'n alive for years to come! Oh did I say, cum? I reckon that was on my mind." He finished and again Cal heard that deep, rumbling giggle somewhere in the room. That meant there were at least three of them in here with him.
"You're fuckin' out of your mind, Burrows! Where's Theodore?"
"Well now, I am glad you brought that up. You see, that's what I figure is going to make you go along with my little party here. Little Theodore is, by now, at home, where he belongs. He went willing too! Of course he was believing tha' you were there and I was a holding you prisoner. Now if I call there, and tell them that's watchin' over the boy, that I am getting no cooperation from little Theodore's new, stud lover, why I jes' hate to think of what those horny men will do to that poor, frail thing." Clyde laughed at Cal's fury, watching the man squirm naked and bound, his face becoming lividly red.
"Hoo, easy now, there, my friend. You don't want to waste all that energy on anger, when you've got so much lovin' to do!"
"No fucking way, Burrows! You shit face! I'll kill you first!"
"Aw gee, you see, this is what I meant by 'no cooperation'." Clyde pulled out his cell phone and dialed. After a moment he spoke into it. "Is our boy there? Where? You say his hands are tied behind his back? You've got a rope around his neck and he's standin' on a chair? And, and the rope is tied up to a beam in m' house? Oh, how awful! Hold on here! Can the boy speak? Good, put the phone to him."
Clyde brought his phone over to Cal's ear. "Here bitch-boy," Cal heard a man's voice say in the background, "it's your po-lice-man husband!"
"Cal, Cal?" Theodore's small voice cried out.
"Skip! Theo! Are you alright?"
"Where are you, Cal? They got a rope on me. They're gonna hang, me." Cal felt another kick to his ribs and yelled in pain. "Daddy? DADDY?" He heard Skip call to him.
Clyde took the phone back. "Daddy! Daddy!" He chided. "I am yore daddy, you stupid shit. Your big, brawny, handsome policeman and I are going to have some fun now, boy, so say goodbye to him!" Cal pleaded to Clyde with his head shaking no and his voice hoarsely crying defeat.
"Never mind," Clyde said to the phone, grinning at his victory. " I'll send him your goodbyes m'self! Rusty! Rusty, you there? Good. Now, if for any reason, I don't call you back in a half 'n hour, you know what to do." He gave a filthy, little laugh just for Cal's ears as he disconnected from the call.
"Well, down to business! My boy is going to untie you now, Cal, so please, don't do anything stupid that you'll regret. Or one that our little prize with a rope around his neck, won't regret. His life depends on you bein' good. Bein' very good." Clyde nodded to Willie and the big boy began to untie Cal. He sat over Cal's strong thighs and Cal felt the boy's naked skin against his own. He felt the boy's hardening cock pushing against the cheeks of his ass, not very far from invading his virgin asshole.
"Oh, paw, his body feels warm and he's real hot down there." Willie said, indicating Cal's ass.
"You just might get to have some of that nice ass, after I'm done with it, of course! Meanwhile, let's take off that blindfold and introduce him to our special guest.
Willie removed the rag they'd improvised for a blindfold and rose off of Cal's legs. Cal blinked in the sudden light as he rolled over on his back. His vision, at first blurred, cleared to reveal a huge, grinning face of a man he'd never seen before looming down on him and growing larger as it neared. "Hello, Mr. Policeman," Cal heard the deep voice say and it was followed by that rumbling giggle.
Malachi stood over Cal completely naked, one leg on each side of Cal's hips, grinning from ear to ugly ear. The man was an incredible site with his high, wide forehead, deep set, light blue eyes, and his pug, broken nose that shadowed his wide, drooling lips. His long, thick, mousy-brown hair matted against the sweat of his brow and hung limply to his shoulders. His body was covered in masses of hair, curly and thick upon his shoulders, arms, legs and chest which was wide and muscular.
Calvary Edwards, I'd like you to make the acquaintance of Malachi Balls. We call 'im Blue, or sometimes jes Mack." Clyde leered down at Cal with sadistic pleasure.
Cal figured this man to be nearly as tall as he was, and almost fifty pounds heavier. He looked to be all muscle and very powerful, certainly not someone he was ready to physically tackle in his present situation. He watched as the man stepped closer to bring his legs on either side of Cal's ribcage. Waving down over Cal's face was the longest, widest cock he had ever seen. Not that Cal had seen many cocks this intimately, but you don't have to see every cock to know when you've seen one this big, that there is any chance there's one bigger out there somewhere. The huge cock hung down heavily with it's circumcised head dripping pre-cum and the immense hairy balls that hung behind it swung in heavy rhythm to the Malachi's movements.
"Oh, yeah, it's real!" Clyde said. "The boy is nearly twelve and a half inches long!"
Boy! Thought Cal. This is no boy!
"He's real nice to look at, Clyde," Malachi said in his slow manner. "But he's old!"
"Don't take that personal, like, Cal. Ol' Mack here likes kids, mostly, though he ain't never had one to bed, he likes to see pictures of them. He's not the crispest piece of bacon on the plate, you might have noticed, but this is his private little hide-a-way, and I wanted to show my appreciation to him for lettin' us borrow it for our little party.
"Go ahead, Mack. Bring that fine piece of meat of yours right on down to that nice man. He's gonna make you feel real good, I promise you! Aren't you, Cal?" Clyde added while pantomiming a lassoed rope around his neck.
Mack giggled his slow witted and deep laugh as he lowered to his knees over Cal's wide eyed expression. "You like Malachi. You make me feel good, Mr. Policeman," he said, as his balls completely covered Cal's chin, mouth and nose, his cock lay draped along Cal's bridge and forehead. "Ooh, warm! You lick Malachi with your tongue, policeman!"
Cal placed his hands on Malachi's thighs as he opened his mouth to gasp for air. He stuck his tongue into the massive amount of skin and hair surrounding his mouth and began to circle it around and around. Whatever was mentally wrong with the man, he was at least adept in hygiene. His smell was clean and he tasted lightly of soap and water.
Encouraged by the licking tongue below him, Malachi began to gyrate his pleasure and his cock began to stretch. "Here, you put these in there!" he said to Cal below him.
"Look, paw, Willie's voice yelled out. The retard likes it! He's gonna shove his balls in Cal's mouth!"
And so he did. With his fingers pushing at them, he guided his massive balls into Cal's painfully stretched mouth. Cal's cheeks were ballooning out, filled the fleshy mounds of Mack's balls and his spit filled his mouth to overflowing. He felt the man's cock hardening over his nose, cheeks and eyes as Malachi rubbed his massive organ across Cal's face, enjoying the tongue bath his balls were getting.
"Oh, oh, oh! Feel so good. Malachi never felt like this before!"
"Way to go, boy! Now you put that big cock of yours in his mouth. He'll really like that!" Clyde urged the giant.
Malachi begrudgingly removed his balls from the warm of Cal's mouth and bent the head of his cock to the man's lips. "Um, here, you put this in your mouth, like Clyde says. I feed you my milk!" And the cock began to push it's way into Cal's mouth ever further. It's enormous width seemed nearly impossible to take, but Cal's mouth was stretched to accommodate.
"Oh, yeah! Make his swallow that thing, Mack! Make him suck it!" Willie encouraged.
"Malachi suck too! You feed me!" He called to Willie, who was only too willing to oblige.
Willie, also naked, walked over to the big man and fed him his already hard cock. The big, wide lips sucked his cock right in and began a hard, wet siphoning of the boy's dick. He cooed and gurgled over his prize in his mouth as he enjoyed the warmth of Cal's hot suck job.
"Oh, God, paw, he sucks so good! I'm gonna shoot him a load now!"
"Do it, boy, give your milk!" Clyde urged him.
"Fuck, here it cums! Oh suck me, Mack! Suck it! Drink my milk!"
Willie's cock pulsed with fury into the sucking maw of the big man. His cum flew into the man's mouth and down his throat and the big guy gurgled with each shot of jism, swallowing ever bit of it. The results of which excited him into his own orgasm!
As soon as Willie's last shot came out of his cock, Mack release the boy's cock to yell out his own passion. Without a thought or concern, he pushed his cock all the harder into Cal's throat, nearly choking the man to death. "Ayee! Oh! Oh! My milk is coming!" It was only fortune that he brought his cock back up so that only the head was left in Cal's mouth giving Cal only a second to gasp for life-giving air before his mouth began to be flooded with the man's cum.
"Um, um, um. My milk, my milk! You drink my milk!" Malachi bellowed, as his cum volleyed out in thick spurts of cum into Cal's mouth and throat. Cal was somewhat shocked at how incredibly sweet it was. Almost as sweet as Skip's, he thought as he tried to keep up with constant flow of jism he was swallowing. He looked up at the man who's homely face had such a look of innocence in its thrall, he found himself coaxing the man into further climax by sucking wantonly on the thick, rubber head still in his mouth. Other than Skip, this was the only cock he had sucked, and he found he was enjoying it.
"Look here, Willie! Why I do believe our Calvary likes the big retard. He's got himself one hell of a boner on him!" Clyde laughed.
Hearing that, Malachi looked around behind him and saw Cal's hard cock rising in the air. He pulled his own cock from the man's mouth, turned around in a sixty-nine position and in one gulp, swallowed Cal's big cock like it were only a few inches long. Eagerly he gripped the cock between his lips and with expert suction, glided up and down the wet shaft, stopping now and then to swirl his tongue around the top of Cal's cockhead.
Cal was stunned by his own performance and even more so at his cock's willingness to be so expertly pleased. In front of his face, the big man's hairy ass and balls waved at him as he felt the extraordinary warm pleasure of Malachi's mouth bringing him to orgasm. Instinctively, he brought his head up and began to lick and nibble at the big man's ass cheeks, bringing his tongue closer and closer to the waiting hole in front of him.
Willie, getting excited again, watch amazed as Cal began to insert his tongue into Malachi's asshole. "Oh, fuck! He's rimming him, pa! Look at that!"
"I'm looking, Clyde said as he aimed the camera in just the right position to catch it all.
Willie walked over to where Cal's face connected to Malachi's ass and began to jack off over them.
"That's m' boy. Whip it boy! Shoot all over him!" Clyde told him. "Cum on him baby! Do it!"
Malachi fantastic sucking had done it's job. Cal felt the pressure of his load working its way up and into the big man's sucking maw! He dug his tongue into Malachi's ass with fury as his first shot blasted out! His excited words were muffled into the ass he was servicing and this excitement brought Willie to his second orgasm.
"Here it cums, pa! I'm shootin' it!" Willie sang out as his cum blasted out onto Cal's hair and then down Malachi's back. He aimed his next shot right at Cal's lips just as they parted from the Malachi's asshole. Grabbing Cal's head, he shoved his cock into the man's mouth and fed him his remaining cum.
His mouth invaded once more, Cal's excitement grew and his cum kept rising and shooting into Malachi's mouth. He felt the man throat constrict the head of his cock each time he swallowed one of his loads.
With Willie's blast, this was the third time Cal tasted cum and nearly wretched at the bitterness of Willie's load. Still, in the excitement, he found himself hungrily sucking more and more of it, the taste no longer relevant. When no more cum was to be had, Willie released Cal's head and he fell back to the floor, panting his exhaustion and relief.
"Now that's what I call a party!" Clyde Burrows said, as he put the camera on one of the utility shelves.
"Policeman's milk tastes real good!" Malachi grinned as he straighten up from his knees. "He make Malachi feel real good in my ass, too!"
"He sure did, and now I'm gonna make him feel real good in his ass!" Clyde said. "Come on over here on your knees, Calvary, and suck me a hard-on to go up your ass!"
The excitement over, Cal, once again began to realize his situation. Hesitantly, he rose from his back to his knees, looking over at the smiling Willie, and then at Malachi who wore nothing more than a look of childlike curiosity. "Come on, boy. We ain't got all day. Remember, I have to call back before a half a hour is up and we're already down twenty minutes!"
"Clyde, you can't do this! Let's just stop it here!" Cal pleaded.
"You are waistin' a powerful lot of time, Mr. Policeman. You'd better get to suckin' and fuckin' pretty damn quick, now!"
Defeated, Cal crawled to the man and took his cock into his mouth, sucking him deeply as best he could, hoping to excite him into an early climax. Clyde's cock grew hard and swelled with lust.
"Tha's enough," he said, removing the spit soaked cock from Cal's mouth. Turn around," he ordered.
Reluctantly, Cal did as he was told. He had never, ever had a cock up his ass and he was nervous as all hell. Skip had willingly coaxed Cal's cock up his tiny boy butt, and Cal was amazed at the boy's resilience. But he had never even considered having a cock up his own ass, so he was totally unprepared for this onslaught as he felt Clyde's hands on his back, balancing him into place.
"Malachi want to make policeman's ass feel good first!" Cal heard the big man say and like to have died at the idea of that huge cock of his trying to go up his virgin ass. "Want to make him feel good like he make me feel good."
"Oh hell, why not! But you better be quick, Mac! We ain't got a lot of time here."
Malachi got down on all fours behind Cal, bring his face up to Cal's ass. He stuck out his tongue and began to lap up and down Cal's crack bringing his tongue to the tip of his asshole and swirling around the entrance. Gathering spit, he began to penetrate the virgin territory.
The warm tongue flicking and lapping at his ass felt exciting and hot, and Cal felt himself moving into the tongue that was now entering his asshole. Like an annoying itch scratched, he found the having the tongue up there invigorating and quite a turn-on. Now he understood why Skip reacted so frantically to his ass lickings this way. He heard himself moan in pleasure when suddenly the warm tongue was replace by a firmer invader.
Cal had edged Malachi away and aimed his rock hard cockhead right at Cal's anus. Spitting down on his shaft, he pushed his cock into Cal's virgin ass. Cal cried out in pain as Willie ran over and grabbed the camera.
"No, no. Policeman don't cry. Here you put Malachi in your mouth." And, kneeling in front of Cal, the man raised his enormous cock to Cal's lips and pushed forward. Never had Cal felt so invaded. He had the biggest cock, probably in the world, in his mouth and another man's cock fucking him in his ass for the first time. In and out, the cocks had their way with each orifice, using them for their own purpose and pleasure. Somehow they had picked up a rhythm that heightened the pleasure for them both and in very short time, they both gave him what he was there to take. Cum spurted and gushed in him at both ends. His ass, having finally accepted the large invasion, now seemed to welcome the gushing piston as did his mouth welcome Malachi's sweet discharge down his throat.
Clyde was in heaven, fuckin' this wise ass cop, this know-it-all bastard who tried to steal his little bride from him. He'd show him. He'd fuckin' own him after this. And this was not over. Oh, no. Not by a long shot. He savored the future almost as much as the tight ass his cock was invading. "Damn, you feel like virgin asshole, Calvary! You surely do!" And saying that, he shot his first load up his enemy's asshole and howled his victory into the lens of the camera Willie was holding.
The pounding against his ass and prostate and the onslaught in his mouth, the sexuality of it all, the cum that he felt oozing in behind him and tasted on his tongue threw Cal over the edge, and without even touching himself, his cock suddenly rose to full erection and shot out blast after blast of his cum.
Malachi collapsed onto his ass, Cal falling down flat with his head resting in Malachi's lap. Clyde reluctantly removed his cock from Cal's tight ass and got up to get his phone. "Yo! Everything okay there?" He asked into the phone. "Tha's fine! Fine! We'll be right on over." He closed his phone and began to collect his clothes.
"Okay all, time to get dressed and get on out of here." Clyde announced.
Rising up, Cal looked at him. "What about Theodore?"
"Well, that's where we're going. You want the boy, don't you. Well we gotta go get him!"
"Don't try any tricks, Burrows. I mean it. You got away with this, but that's as far as it goes. You got me?"
"Tricks? Me?" Clyde answered. "What I need tricks for. I don't have to worry about anything you say, not with this here video of you willingly suckin' dick, getting fucked and eatin' ass! Shoot, yore one of us, now!" He laughed.
"Never mind that! You just give me Skip, and sign any papers I need to make it legal, and I'll forget about all of this." Cal said, as he finished dressing.
"Malachi is come too." Mack said as he was tying his left sneaker.
"No. You'd better stay here, Mack. They might need you in the mall."
"Malachi is come too." The big man's voice was deep and firm.
"Alright. Alright, you can come. You ride in the back of our truck with Willie." Clyde told him, pissed at the interference. He kind of like the retard and didn't want to hurt him, but after what he was planning to do, he couldn't afford to have no half-wit witnesses. Oh well, he asked for it.
They gathered all the paraphernalia they came with and left Malachi's 'secret' room and headed for the parking lot of the Bessemer Mall.
There was no understanding why his life was being turned upside down yet again, just when everything seemed to be perfect. Teddy's fears turned to the fate of the man who had become so much more to him than a protector and a haven from his family of persecutors. Cal was his friend, lover and yes, his father. Everything he'd longed for, prayed for, even when his mother was alive. Suddenly, it was all too close to being taken from him. Could they, would they kill Cal?
Yes, he told himself. He knew Clyde Burrows was capable of such a thing, and maybe even Willie; poor, sick, misguided Willie. He would do whatever Clyde told him to do to win his father's love, or if not love, his constant, sexual attention.
These thoughts ran through the boy's mind as Rusty and John escorted him to Rusty's old pickup truck. Waiting inside of it, he saw another figure that looked exactly like the redheaded man who first befriended him.
Since the passenger door could not be opened, John climbed in the driver's side and had Matthew slide over to the sealed door on the passenger side. He was followed by Teddy, who was roughly passed through, then made to slide down on the filthy floor between Matthew's legs and facing towards his crotch. Rusty climbed in, shut his door and started up the familiar, noisy engine. "Well, here we go, boys!"
"Ooh. How sweet he is!" Matthew said, seeing Teddy's big, brown eyes and adorable face up close for the first time. He'd only had a brief glimpse of the boy as he was exiting the Friendly's restaurant earlier.
"You're going to be in so much trouble, Rusty!" Teddy piped up. "If you do anything to Cal, the police will be hunting you down till your dead!"
Rusty knew he was between a rock and a hard place already, and was plenty unhappy about this whole situation. It was getting more and more out of hand, dangerous, and Clyde, he thought, was really losing it. Sure, the boy was pretty, and hot stuff with a whole lot of sexual potential, but was he worth all this violence and possibly murder? The kid was probably right, but he didn't want to hear it. It rattled his nerves. "Will one of you shut that kid up!"
"Only too happy to!" Matthew volunteered. He undid his belt, and opened his button-down denim fly. He had on a pair of white BVD's into which he grabbed Teddy's head and pushed the boy's face down into the soft, cotton material. He began grinding his crotch into the boy's mouth. He felt the boy's soft lips rubbing around and over his excited, bulging groin, and Teddy's vocal protesting, vibrated against the growing cock. That served to increase his mere arousal to total erection.
"Oh, God, that feels good! Yeah, mmm, kiss it. Yeah, that's it! Get my crotch wet with your spit, boy!" He said as the Teddy's saliva began spilling involuntarily out of the corners of his mouth.
"Fuck, I want him next! Take it out, Matt. Put your cock in his mouth. Make him suck it!" John said, rubbing his own bulging basket while urging his brother on.
"Oh yeah!" Rusty added, glancing over while driving. "We might as well have some fun with him now as later! Go for it boys! Give him your loads! The boy is a natural," he said, "I should know, I was the first to have him when he got here! Sucked my cock like a lamb to a ewe's udder, drank down m' cum, too!"
Rusty's words created even more excitement for the Bueford twins. Matthew freed his swollen cock from the confines of his tight briefs and pushed the plump, rosy head of his seven and one-half inch cock into Teddy's unwilling mouth. "Oh, yeah, suck me, boy!"
With his hands on both sides of the protesting boy's head, he began to make the boy take his cock in and out of his mouth. "I know y' want it all, boy, but I like it sucked from just below the head!" Matt then held a fist around his own cock, allowing just about the last inch and a half of shaft and the head of his cock to be exposed. With his other hand, he grasped Teddy's hair and pushed and pulled at the boy's head, forcing it up and down on that part of his cock! Faster and faster with greater urgency he made the boy eat his cockhead, and watched that youthful, pretty face sucking on his meat, knowing that the boy would soon be getting a mouthful of his cum, like it or not!
Teddy's body protested in agony within the tight confines of the small space he was squeezed into on the floor of the truck.
John Bueford became more and more excited watching his brother ravaging the boy's mouth and enjoying the hot sucking his cock was getting. He took his own fat, hard cock out of his pants and began whacking away at it, eagerly anticipating his turn at the boy's beautiful mouth.
Rusty managed to free his hard dick and grabbed John's left hand to have him work it for him while he was driving. John was too excited watching his brother's cockhead fucking the pretty boy face he held between his legs to protest Rusty's come-on. In fact, he got so hot, he turned his body, squeezed himself down and brought his lips to Rusty's cock, sucking it all in until his face kissed the red pubic hairs in Rusty's sweaty, musky smelling crotch.
Faster and faster, Matthew pumped Teddy's mouth over his throbbing cock, working himself into a climatic frenzy. He began to pump his cock into the boy's mouth in rhythm with the boy's up and down motion. "Fuck, oh Christ! This is good! This is so...fucking good! Yeah! Suck it! Take it! Take my cum, get it ...now...now. All...the...fucking...way...it's cumming! AHHHHH!" He released his hand from his cock and with both hands, he suddenly pushed the boy's head down forcing his cock all the way down the boy's throat. There, he held the boy's head down with Teddy's lips completely crushed into his wiry, pubic hair. With his cock pushed its full length completely down the boy's gullet, he shot his cum into the boy's constricting throat!
Wave after wave of jism rose up and out of his cockhead. Although the boy's head could go no further down on the man's cock, Matthew emphasized each burst of cum with another heave into the boy's already smothered face. "Take it! Oh, fuck! Drink it, baby. Ooh, yeah, pretty boy! Open your throat and drink it! Take all of it!"
With no choice in the matter, of course, Teddy was made to swallow each volley of the viscous, shooting goo that burst its way down his throat and further into his waiting stomach. The boy's diaphragm muscles began to heave in protest for lack of breath.
Teddy's choking noises, Matthew's verbal excitement and John's sucking lips, brought Rusty to the edge and taking his right hand off the steering wheel, held John to his cock as his cum spurted out into the man's mouth. The truck gained speed as in his excitement, Rusty's foot pressed harder against the gas pedal.
Beating his own cock and getting ready to cum as well, John quickly gulped down Rusty's load and broke away from that softening cock only to prepare the way to have his own load taken care of. Seeing this, Matt, having finished cumming in the Teddy's mouth, lifted his left leg to the other side of the boy, giving room for his brother to change positions.
John immediately, with fully cocked dick in hand, exchange positions by swinging his right leg over Teddy's head, putting the boy's face in direct line with his balls. Grabbing the boy by the hair, he roughly yanked him to his nearly spewing cock and shoved it between the boy's already tender lips.
At precisely the moment he felt the boy's hot, little mouth envelope his cockhead, John's cock burst its first explosive blast of white, gooey cum! He held the boy in place so that only the head of his cock was stationed between the boy's lips, pumping both his cock and the boy's head along his spewing glans, making Teddy taste ever drop of the thick, molten juice he shot into him. "Oh, yeah! Good, ain't it, boy? Mmmm, yeah, drink it, cumsucker! Suck it all up! Oh yeah! I feel it going into your mouth...making you drink it-swallow it! Swallow my cum! Taste it! Drink it!"
Cum from John's cock filled Teddy's mouth, spilling out all around the boy's abused lips. "Oh, no you don't! You drink that, boy! You swallow it!" John told him, as he pumped the remaining cum into the boy's mouth and pushed down into his throat with his cum-shooting shaft. Teddy obediently swallowed John's cum, feeling the thick ooze spilling down his battered throat from Matt's earlier, brutal face fucking.
When he was certain that he'd finished cumming, John took his cock out from between the boy's lips and smeared the goo covered head around Teddy's face, scraping up any cum that escaped earlier and pushing it back into Teddy's mouth. He made the kid eat every last drop and lick his cock clean with his tongue, checking it carefully to see that he got every bit of his joy juice off the shaft, as well as any that spilled into his pubic hairs. He had the boy wash his balls just for good measure and he advised Matt to do the same.
Matt brought the boy back over between his legs and, as his brother suggested, had the boy thoroughly lave his cock and balls spit-shine clean, which only served to bring him to another erection. Nearing Clyde's road and figuring there wouldn't be time enough for more fun, he simply put his hard cock between the boy's lips, held the boy's head there, and decided he'd let it rest like that, at least until they pulled up into the yard. However, the ruts and bumps in the road inadvertently moved Teddy's head up and down on Matt's swollen cock. Occasionally, looking down at the boy's little mouth surrounding his cockhead; he'd give the kid's head a few shoves just to watch his cock going in and out of those soft, inviting lips. Moaning in ecstasy, Matt felt the truck pull in to the bumpy, dirt driveway of Clyde Burrows' shack. The rolling bumps of the rutted driveway caused Teddy's body to heave forward, causing his open mouth to unexpectedly dive all the way down to the base of Matt's cock. This proved to be so exciting that without much warning, the young man's cock shot off several more bursts of cum and he kept Teddy's head down there as he fed the lad another huge load of cum to drink down.
"Oh God, that is so fuckin' good!" Matt moaned as he felt his flow subsiding.
We're here," said Rusty. "Now, let's go in and have some fun!" He laughed as he watched Matt move Teddy's head from his wilting cock. Putting their respective cocks back in and belting their pants, to keep them from falling down when they got out of the truck, the boys maneuvered Teddy and themselves out the driver's door after Rusty got out. Rusty reached in the cab of his truck and grabbed two coils of rope.
Muscle sore from his cramped position in the truck, Teddy was painfully and unceremoniously carried over John's shoulder into the wretched shack that he had only escaped from what seemed a lifetime ago.
"How soon do you expect Clyde to be here?" Matthew asked as they tossed the boy onto the center cushion of the folded up sofa bed.
"I...I thought you said Cal was here?" Teddy asked, looking around, confused and wary.
"Well, I lied!" Rusty told him. "But don't worry. He will be, soon enough!"
Now that Rusty was indoors and warm, he decided to make himself more comfortable. He took off all his clothes except his shorts and socks and as he walked to the kitchen he said, "Okay, we should be getting a phone call from Clyde sometime soon. Meantime, if'n there's something you want this boy to do for you, now's the time to doin' it."
The twins, who sat on the cushions either side of Teddy, looked at each other and grinned. "Hell, you came twice, bro. I'm sure as hell ready to cum again," John said, as he kicked off his boots, stood up and dropped his pants and stepped out of them.
Rusty came back into the room with a few bottles of beer and passed one to each of the twins. "Sorry, boy," he said to Teddy, "Yer, too young to drink," he laughed, "Beer, that is!"
By now, Matt had also taken off his trousers, as well as his shirt and underwear. He removed Teddy's sneakers and then he yanked Teddy pants down and slid them off the boy, leaving the Teddy dressed only in his plaid shirt and white socks.
"Please, don't do this! No more, please!" Teddy pleaded with the Buefords.
"Isn't he cute? I think he's gonna cry," said John, as he lifted the boy's torso and peeled off his shirt and undershirt.
"I'm turnin' up this here heater," Rusty said. "It's a bit warmer but still a might bitey in this here hole!"
"Good idea, Rusty. Though I expect things'll get pretty hot soon enough!" said Matthew. "I don't think I'm ready to cum again so soon after m' second time, but I am feeling a terrible pressure!"
"Well, I'll tell you what, brother dear," added John, "When I'm done giving this boy another creamy load, you can take care of that pressure by rinsing my load down his throat!"
"You are so considerate, dear brother. Thank you!" Matthew grinned.
"You are very welcome!"
Teddy was then completely stripped of his remaining clothing by Matthew and John pulled the naked boy down off the sofa and on to the floor. They removed the sofa cushions, and moving the boy out of the way, they opened it, and sat him up against it again, with his back to it and his head just above the mattress. The sheets looked used and stained.
John approached the boy and once in front of him he squatted down, bringing his knees to the bed; his crotch pushed the boy's head back to rest on the mattress below. Kneeling up on the sofa, and straddling Teddy's face he sat his naked ass right down on the boy's face Teddy's lips lay smothered just barely above John's asshole, his small nose nearly buried in the man's hairy balls.
"Ahh! That's nice. I can feel his warm breath on my ass. That little face ...so hot! I bet my ass could suck up his whole, pretty face down there!" John scooted forward to give the boy access directly to his moist asshole. "Let me feel that tongue, boy. Start licking my hole!"
Teddy muffled his protest which only turned John on ever more. "Oh, yeah, you just keep on doin' that! That feels good too. I can feel your lips vibratin' on the hairs of my ass crack! Now, lick me boy, before I have to hurt you!"
Teddy felt helpless and somehow he knew that no matter what these men told him to do, his actions would ultimately determine Cal's fate, and so he relented and began to ream the man's asshole with his tongue. Carefully and hesitantly at first, he began to stick his small tongue out and taste the rough, wiry, red hairs surrounding the pink sphincter above his mouth, increasing the pressure as he continued. At least the man kept himself fairly clean down there, the boy thought.
"Yeah! That's way, boy! Mmmm. Lick my ass! Get that tongue in there! Yeah! I love it! Oh, Matt, this kid is good! No fucking wonder Clyde wants him here! Christ, he's getting me so fucking hot!" John's cock proved his words as it grew wider, longer and harder within his hand. Below him, he could see only the top of the boy's head, his dark hair softly tickling his balls.
"Go, John! Yeah! The boy's eating yore asshole, man! Licking it," Matt whispered hoarsely into his brother's ear. Getting excited, even beyond his need to piss, Matt crawled up onto the sofa and knelt behind Teddy's head, facing his brother, and took his brother's face in his hands and brought it up to kiss him on his lips. His tongue pushed and invaded John's mouth, swirling around and in between, he would hungrily suck John's tongue into his own mouth.
John slid down across Teddy's face, resting his balls on the boy's lips, giving room for Matt's cock and balls to lie there as well. His ass hovered over Teddy's chest. The brothers tongued each other passionately as John reached down and bent his cock to Teddy's mouth, finding the boy's lips and pushing his cock between them and into his mouth. Taking a gasp of air from his brother's hungry mouth, he ordered Teddy to suck his cock, now invading its way down the boy's throat. Teddy's hands rose up in helpless protest to John's ass above him.
Matt continued passionately kissing his twin brother, sucking occasionally at his neck and bare shoulders and jacking his own cock into full erection once again.
Rusty was fascinated by the twins love making. His own excitement growing, he got down on the floor, crawled over to Teddy and began to lick the young boy's smooth, soft skin about the chest and nipples. Licking and nibbling them each he continued his tonguing down along the boy's torso, his tight little stomach, down, down into the thick brown pubic hairs and finally lapping and sucking in the boy's beautiful, six inches of circumcised cock. It was probably against the boy's will he thought, but he could feel the kid's cock growing inside of his talented sucking lips. Whether he wanted to or not, he would make the boy shoot his load and get to taste that sweet boy-cum!
Teddy thought his neck would break it ached so from being held back onto the cushion by the weight of the man above him. The cock in his mouth was in a terrible position to try and get it down him this way, so he tried even harder to get the painful invasion over with by sucking the cock with greater urgency, hoping to make the man cum as soon as possible. All he could think about was the assault and the pain. He raised his arms up and pushed against John's ass in hope of relieving some of the weight, but it was a useless effort.
He was in agony. Until, that is, when he suddenly felt a warm tongue licking and lapping its way all over his body and ultimately, he felt his cock being sucked up by a warm, inviting tongue and into the hot confines of an equally inviting mouth. His cock was totally engulfed by tight lips and that same tongue began swirling hungrily around his cock's head and shaft as it traveled inward, being buried deeply within the sucking maw. His body reacted instinctively, and he felt the excitement stirring deep down within his tightening, firm testicles. Over and over he felt the warm, pumping of Rusty's unrelenting sucking mouth.
He was going to shoot his cum whether he wanted to or not. The thrall of his jism shooting upward from his balls increased his sexual excitement and he began to suck at John's cock even more hungrily than before-his pleasurable groans muffled vibrations against the cock within his mouth.
John felt the sudden urgency in the boy's sucking and with his brother's tongue pushing deep into his mouth, his cum rose up in an incredible torrent, exploding into the sucking mouth below. Breaking away from his brother's kiss, he bellowed his orgasm into the room.
"Ahhhhh! Oh, fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Oh, cumming! I'm cumming!" He raved as his brother grabbed him and held him to his chest.
"Oh, Christ! I think I'm going to cum too, bro!" Matt told him.
"Stand up. Stand up," John begged him.
Doing as asked, he leaned on his brother's shoulders and raised himself up. John took his brother's cock into his mouth and began sucking him as his own cock spewed its last few gushing ounces down Teddy's throat. Almost immediately, with only a few wet, up and down sucks of John's lips, Matt tossed his cock forward and grabbed his brother's head to him as he shot his load, yet again. His hips pumped back and forth shoving his cock into his brother's mouth and shooting blast after blast of his thick, slimy, delicious cum into John's sucking mouth and hungry throat that eagerly coaxed every drop from his spewing cock.
As so often happens with multiple partners cumming at the same time, one man ejaculating often triggers the orgasm of the next. No exception, Teddy's own cock, betraying him, doing what he knew was wrong, swelled and heaved its own juices into the mouth that was earnestly siphoning every drop and insisted, greedily, for more than the youth could possibly provide. And yet, more and more of his cum seemed to wonderfully force its way up and out of his cock with thrilling excitement. He shot load after load of his excitement as he nursed the softening cock within his own mouth; he was completely caught in the moment of exquisite orgasm.
John, having drained his brother's cock of sweet cream, rose up off his knees on the cushions to better embrace him, thus pulling his cock from Teddy's mouth and letting boy's head up. The sudden freedom made the boy slide down flat along the floor and just as he went to raise his head, he felt the hungry mouth lift off his spent cock and saw Rusty's own spewing cock aimed right as his face.
Rusty beat his cum frantically, still savoring the sweet taste of boy cum in his mouth. His cum flew out and he watched as Teddy's head slid down from the cushions to the floor then raise up only to get his first few spurts of cum directly on the parted lips of the surprised boy. Quickly he moved forward to hold Teddy's head, push his cock in the boy's mouth and finish his continuing orgasm. Teddy was unprepared for the sudden invasion, but quickly recovered and allowed the man to finish cumming in his mouth. The cum spurted across his tongue and Rusty's cock, thrusting in and out, plowed all of it down the Teddy's gullet.
Sated, Rusty pulled his cock out of the boy's mouth and sat over his face, his balls resting on the Teddy's lips. Panting his exhaustion, Teddy patiently lay there surrounded by Rusty's testicles and John's legs on either side of his head.
The brother's broke their loving embrace and looked down at the boy below, whose face was nearly buried by Rusty's balls and limp cock. John raised his right leg to meet his left on the other side of Teddy's head. Helping his brother off the couch, John balanced Matt as he stepped off the cushions to stand on the opposite side of Teddy's body. Both looked down at Rusty who looked up at them with a satisfied, but somewhat toothless grin.
"Hey Rusty, get up off that boy, will ya? I'm beginning to get that nasty pressure back that I had before," Matthew told him.
"Damn, bro, if that ain't what makes us twins. I got that same damn pressure. Why don't you take one, and I'll take t'other?" They held fists to each other and counted, one, two and three. Fingers drawn, Matt won choice.
"I'll take the kid here, you get ol' Rusty there. 'Sides, he's a lot more experienced and probably won't spill anything."
Rusty, of course, knew what was coming and as far as he was concerned, he was willing to do anything for those handsome Bueford boys, so he crawled right over to John's waiting cock and took it into his mouth.
"Stop suckin' it, Rusty. I gotta pee, so don't get me all up again!" John chided him.
"Okay, boy," Matt said to the exhausted Teddy, "Time to rinse down all that cum you've been drinking." He pulled the boy up to his knees and, before Teddy could protest, he fed him his limp, fat cock. Holding his head firmly, he relaxed his body and let his piss rise up and out of his cock and into the young mouth surrounding it. Teddy tried to push away from Matt's grip by pressing his hands against the man's legs, but Matt grabbed one of his wrists and told him he'd break both his arms if he tried that again. "You just open up and drink it down, boy. It's just warm, salty water. Ah, here it comes!"
Teddy felt the first flood of the saline liquid forcefully penetrate and fill his mouth. He first gulped down the invading liquid, and suddenly his natural instinct to reject the acrid urine's taste caused his throat to lock and his stomach to wretch. But before he could cough out the offending cock from his mouth, Matt pushed it in even further, shoving Teddy's head tightly to his crotch, giving no escape for air, liquid or any other contents the boy might try to spew forth.
Forced to swallow, he continued to gulp down Matt's piss each time his cheeks swelled full to capacity. It seemed an impossible task, but became more tolerable as Matt's piss subsided and finally he was able to manage the ebbing flow with a degree of calm, if not shame and humiliation. With his initial panic abated, the bitter taste become more piquant and less unacceptable. Now his mind began "searching" the taste and trying to decide if it was all that bad or not. He swallowed it all with less difficulty until Matt had no more to give. Looking over at John and Rusty, he could see Rusty was happily and easily quaffing down the liquid gold that John was feeding him. The brothers completely emptied, they removed their cocks from their private piss drinkers.
"Well, that was fun! Wasn't it boys? I even think the boy here was just startin' to enjoy hisself!" John said, giving Matt and Rusty a wink. "But, you know what they say; all good things come to an end. Help me get the boy up."
Suddenly, Teddy felt the flood of previous fears envelope him once again. Rusty stood up first and then the three of them lifted his exhausted and sexually used body off the floor. They temporarily sat him down on the sofa.
"Okay, boys, better put your gear back on. Don't want to look like we've been havin' too much fun," Rusty advised.
After they'd all put their clothes back on, Rusty told Matthew to grab the ropes he brought in from his pickup. Together, the boys lifted Teddy off the couch and turning him around, they bound his hands together with one of the ropes. When he was securely bound, the laid him back down on the sofa while John set up a kitchen chair in the middle of the room. Tossing the other rope over a ceiling beam in the shack, Matthew created a hangman's noose on one end of it. The other end hung loosely down from the beam.
This done, John and Mathew sat the boy up and brought him to his feet. The effect of this activity was hardly lost on the boy. Screaming, wide eyed and trembling, he began to struggle violently against his captors, but his efforts were useless against the both the rope and the strength of the Bueford twins.
"Why? Why, are you doing this?" Teddy cried hysterically.
"Take it easy, boy. No use all that wrigglin' and cryin'. What's gotta be done, 's gotta be done," Rusty said to the boy, now in tears and crying in panic as they lifted him and stood him on the chair. "Clyde's orders, boy, and you know what happens to anyone who don't do as Clyde tells 'em to."
His little frame shivered and heaved with sobs of terror as tears rained down his florid cheeks. "Please! Please don't. Don't do this!" He begged them.
"Hush boy," Rusty said, grabbing the Teddy's own sock from the floor and pushing it into the boy's crying mouth. "You just stand there and settle yourself. This will all be over soon as Clyde comes back with your policeman lover."
Teddy's incredible torment was muffled through the stained cloth of the sock that was shoved into his mouth. Now he understood.
His dad, his blood dad, in jealous rage, was going to kill him and Cal both, and there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing. He felt his young heart break.
Moments later, the phone rang.
The quartet of men walking across the parking lot of the mall caused no undue attention from passersby. Having the upper hand, for now, Clyde was confident in Calvary's cooperation. Malachi and Willie climbed into the rear of the van as Clyde stepped into the driver's side and Cal got into the passenger's seat. Each sat in silence with their thoughts as the van heavily rolled its way back up the mountains.
Malachi, Blue, as his brother renamed him, had never had such an experience before. Oh, of course he and his brother had fooled around for years when he was just a little kid. Rusty showed him how to play with his cock and patiently taught the slow minded boy how to suck cum out as well. Never had he swallowed another man's cum, and never had another man sucked his cock or licked his asshole, like this handsome police man did.
Born out of his sister by his father, he was the rape-child of that union. His sister, the oldest of seven siblings, had been a carrier of syphilis and her sickly blood affected the boy's birth with congenital birth defects. His rapid physical development, and his inherent, overly developed skull, along with his retardation were the most notable of his shortcomings, but not to Malachi.
Blue lived in his own world most of the time, oblivious to the stares of others. He was always good tempered and happy and eager to please. Unaware of his growing strength, he was ostracized by the kids his own age because he too often unwittingly hurt them when playing. Left alone, he became dependent on his older brother Rusty. Rusty was his best friend. Rusty played with him. Rusty got him his job. Rusty taught him things that made him feel good.
He always enjoyed looking at all those pictures of underwear clad boys and girls in the sales catalogues Rusty gave him. He liked that they had no hair on their bodies, unlike himself whose body was lush in curly black hair. Incredibly, for whatever reason, and one no one had figured out, he'd never grown any facial hair. "Damn, lucky!" Rusty used to tell him.
Once, Rusty gave Blue a magazine with sexy stories and pictures of little boys in all sorts of provocative poses. He couldn't read the stories but, thinking about those boys naked, he saw himself suckling them as they held his enormous cock in their small hands. Up and down they would pump his cock and he would nurse their pretty little penises. In his mind's eye, he'd watch them, two or three at a time, licking and lapping at his cock which was way too big for them to get into their mouths.
But that was okay as long as he could have their dicks in his mouth. He could almost feel their powerful, young spurts of cum shooting out of their turgid dicks and onto his eager tongue while they jacked off his cock. Suddenly, his milk would fly into the air, splashing into their faces and all over their young, soft bodies. They would all laugh and play in his pools of cock-milk and they would ask him to do it again and again.
Of course, he would comply and repeatedly masturbate and ejaculate over and over, seemingly without end. As long as he thought about it, he could get his enormous cock erect and had an immediate build up of sperm that he could squirt out as many times as he wished. Each climax being as pleasurable as the last, so it was no wonder that his free time was spent playing with himself and his imaginary, youthful friends
And now, Rusty told him he was going to have the best time of his life if he did everything he was told. So far Rusty had been right, even though there were no young boys. The handsome police man was really nice and he definitely made Blue feel good. Remembering what Clyde had done to the police man, made Blue wonder if he could do that too. He'd never done that to a man, although he let Rusty do it to him. He just assumed since no one told him he could do it, he couldn't. But now, just maybe he would do it.
And why not? As far as he understood, this was all some complicated game that the Burrows were playing and he was very happy to be a part of it. He didn't understand why Willie would kick the man every so often, but his small mind assumed it was just part of the game.
As far as leaving his duties, he often wandered away from his janitorial duties at the mall, and they were used to him disappearing, so he wasn't concerned in the least about leaving now. He would have been off work in about an hour anyway. Soon he would see Rusty again and he knew that he would have fun with him and the police man. Maybe he would surprise Rusty and fuck his ass this time. He only wished Rusty would wash himself more.
The van lurched around a curve, and Blue's thoughts were interrupted by Willie's face suddenly lying in his lap. He watched as Willie opened his pants, took out his big cock and began to suck on it-right there, in the back seat of the moving van!
Willie bounced around the van as it bounded its way about the curves, ruts and bumps in the road. Soon every thing would be going his way. He was sure his daddy was going to kill both his little brother and Cal. He would have his father all to himself once again, to adore, worship and serve as his sexual slave if necessary. He could hardly wait to be the only one who would be sucking at his father's cock, swallowing his cum drinking his piss.
Feeling his own arousal, he stared across at Malachi and admired the young man's enormous body and strength. That cock of his was something to be admired as well. The more he thought about Blue's huge dong, the more he desired it. He looked at the men in the front seats, and through the space between them, he saw Cal's hand reaching across and working on his daddy's big cock and that got him even more fired up. A sudden swerve by the van swept him sideways and he used the momentum to stretch out and lay across the back seat, putting his head in Blue's lap. Unbuttoning the man's denim fly, he reached in and, with some difficulty, pulled out the salami sized cock. Lost in a fog of sensuality, he began to nurse at the cock he held in his hand. He was totally hungry for cum and he would suck every last drop from the big cock in his mouth.
It took all of Cal's will to keep his rage and fury in check. He so wanted to slam into Clyde Burrows, to wrap his hands around the son of a bitch's neck and squeeze the life out of him, but he knew he couldn't dare to. If anything happened to Clyde before they got to the house, Theo would be killed. He barely heard Clyde's order to jack off his cock, and he mechanically obeyed, his mind trying desperately to figure out what he should do to save his young lover. His heart pained him and he felt his eyes moisten. He might have openly shed tears but his thoughts were interrupted by Clyde's hand grabbing his neck and pulling him down to have him suck off his stiff cock. His passion was once again stripped and replaced with disgust and rage as he unwillingly, but passively complied. He no sooner put his mouth around Clyde's cock when the man came in his mouth.
Clyde was in seventh heaven. He drove their battered van anxiously home with a shit eating grin on his scrubby face. He was also enjoying the hand job he ordered Cal to give him as they drove on. When he was about ready to shoot his load, he made the man take it in his mouth and swallow it.
He had it all now; his little bride waiting for him at the door, and the little slut's paramour whom he planned to kill right in front of the boy's face. Ah, life was good!
Five-twenty that evening, a diminutive, yet compact and muscular man entered his superior's office with a large envelope in his hand. At first, he seemed preoccupied and worried about something, then looking at his superior officer he suddenly to on a shit-eating grin. Whatever he was thinking about was suddenly put on the back burner.
"Hey, Captain Malguinera, I got somethin' for ya!" He shut the door behind him. "This, er...guy out at the desk says this is for your eyes only. Said it was important ...VERY important, that you look into it as soon as you get it," he added. "Got a secret admirer, Captain?" he asked with a wink.
Captain Salvatore Malguinera looked up from his paperwork and at the envelope the Desk Sergeant, Frank LeRobinet, held in his hand. "No more secret than the blow jobs you give out at the local bookstore glory holes, Frank." He grinned at the man knowingly, "Hand it over. Is he still there?"
"Nah! He just handed me that, told me what to tell you and ran out like his ass was on fire."
"Yeah? You know him?"
"Who, me? Nah!"
"What'd he look like?" He asked as he opened the manila envelope.
"Not as cute as me, boss!" said Frank, twice raising his eyebrows meaningfully. "He's ah, one of those guys that likes to advertise his manhood! You know, those polyester pants that leave nothing to the imagination. He's a tall guy; skinny, nervous," then almost to himself he said, " ...way too nervous." He continued, "Manicured and polished nails, too."
From inside the envelope, Sal took out a folded sheet of paper, a smaller envelope and a VCR tape. "Manicured nails...sign of a criminal mastermind, wouldn't you say, Frank?" he asked rhetorically while he handed Frank the tape. "Here, put this in the VCR."
"Sure, boss." He paused, "Ah, are you sure you want me to see it? It might be somethin' intimate. He did say it was 'for your eyes only', Sir." He grinned devilishly as he spoke.
"Well, if you don't want to look, Frank, you can always hide under my desk and keep yourself otherwise occupied."
"Well, I'm nothing if not obedient to my superior officer's commands," Frank grinned. "How 'bout if I do both?"
Sal laughed. "Just in case, put up the do not disturb sign on the door."
The little man, short in stature, but body firm and muscular, swiped the 'Meeting - do not interrupt!' privacy sign from the desktop, opened the door and hung it on the knob outside. Not without a few knowing comments and wolf whistles heard before the door was closed.
"Are there any secrets around here?" Captain Sal moaned. "Go on, turn on the tape."
As Frank set up the VCR to play, Sal opened the smaller envelope and out spilled a thin sheet of photos from one of those arcade, photo machines. "Holy shit ...," he mumbled. "Damn!"
"What is it?" Frank turned to ask just as the tape started to play.
"Ssh," Sal motioned with his hand pointing to the television screen. The folded paper included in the manila envelope lay on the desk in front of him.
At first the men were totally spellbound in silence, but as the movie played on, what they were watching put them in a whole new mood. "I think I'm ready to obey order number two, Sir." Frank said and squatted down in front of his Captain's chair, his body hidden from the doorway by the large desk.
Captain Sal Malguinera was one of the most handsome men on the Birmingham Police Force; very Latin, dark, swarthy and virile looking. At fifty-six, he could retire in four years, but his handsome looks and strong body belied his age and with his thick mop of silver hair, he looked to be only in his thirties. His face was rugged, but the wrinkles around his eyes wore more like laugh lines than those of sagging age. He had pale, cat's green-yellow eyes that often intimidated those they stared at. Yet, they were compelling and one couldn't simply look away once they grabbed your attention.
For years, the captain employed a daily, rigorous exercise routine that showed its positive results in the hugging tightness of his pale brown uniform. And while no amount of exercise will increase the size of a man's cock, one might have thought the opposite was true as Desk Sergeant LeRobinet engineered the succulent golem from confines within Captain Malguinera's uniform pants.
Wide beyond belief, it was more than a fistful. Not huge in length, about 7 inches, but the uncircumcised cock loomed heavily before LeRobinet's lowered position, and it didn't take him long to put his mouth over it. The entire phallus, with its corona exposed, was shaped very much like a wide arrow, the tip not much wider than the shaft, but it meant the head was equally as wide. Its beer can width was not easy to take in... anywhere.
But Frank took it in his mouth expertly. The little man had years of experience with Sal's huge cock. They weren't lovers...not even close to being that...but he'd had this continuing, sexual relationship that both men found pleasurable and satisfying, each in his own way.
Frank stood about five foot, five inches. He was quick in movement, and quite the entertainer around the squad. Always a smile and a good word to everyone there, Frank's homosexual penchant was well known among most of the officers, both men and women, and no one spoke a word against him. There were none who could argue that he wasn't a fine police officer and a hard working man. In the Birmingham Special Crimes Unit, homosexuality was far more easily understood and tolerated. Captain Sal wasn't the only one who took advantage of Frank's willingness to please.
The video tape was showing several, erotic activities going on. The first, shorter movie, took place in a bathroom where some homely, little runt was sucking hungrily on some guy's long cock; the camera zooming in on the man's dick shooting cum into the cocksucker's mouth. Then the scene changed to a barroom where a whole group of men were taking turns, front and back, with a lanky, skinny man stretched across a bar table. All those cocks were humping and pumping, and shooting cum everywhere in and on the man on the table. The sexual heat of it all was not lost on Captain Malguinera. He became more and more excited with every visual blast of cum the camera caught on tape.
Frank, taking occasional, but furtive, glances at the screen while working on his Captain's cock, removed his mouth in surprise. "Shit! Sal, that's ...the guy who left the envelope!"
Sal's reply was to grab Frank's head back to its job. "Quick, I'm gonna explode!" he told his own, private, little cocksucker. And indeed he did, just as Frank's mouth met the tip of his cock. The first blast of cum smacked against Frank's lips and coated them as he opened his mouth wide to receive the rest of the creamy syrup. Holding the base of the captain's cock in his fist, so nothing would spill down on the officer's uniform, his lips traveled up and down as he siphoned every bit of cum that his Captain had to offer and finished it off, eagerly tongue lapping every drop clean from the man's cock, shaft, and pubes.
The movie had played to its end as Sal tucked away his cock into his pants and Frank took his cum sated appetite, along with his tight-assed little body, back over to the TV to remove the tape. "Hey boss, can I make a copy of this?"
"That may be evidence, Frank," he said as he grabbed the folded piece of paper on the desk and opened it. "Holy Shit!"
"What?" asked Frank, setting the tape back on the desk.
"Here, look at this," Sal told him and handed him the sheet of photos as he continued reading the letter in his hand.
"Is that a little girl or a boy kissing that man?" Frank asked.
"According to this letter, it's a boy, and he's was kidnapped by the guy in the picture with him. This says, the guy with the kid and his twin brother are John and Matthew Bueford. They work for another guy named Clyde Burrows, who's the kid's father. He say's they all raped him at Milo's Bar! All the men that are in that movie, along with Burrows and his other son, Willard, as well as Milo Fortner, the bar owner, ... a Carl Hardgrove and a guy named Rusty Balls...," he looked up at Frank, "Is he shittin' me?"
"Wow! What do you think?" Frank asked, looking at the photos.
"Who the fuck knows? Rusty Balls? Sounds like bullshit. That can't be the guy's real name! Maybe this guy's pissed because these assholes fucked him and didn't pay him for his services. Or, ...maybe he was raped and the kid in these photos is in some real trouble." Sal continued reading the letter. "Well fuck me for my hound dog! That settles it!" Sal barked.
"What? What happened?" Frank's excitement was building.
"You remember Calvary? Calvary Edwards?"
"Sergeant Calvary? Hell, who could forget that big guy? I can't tell you how many times I wanted to have at it with his schlong! He always seemed shy about anything sexual, though," he paused. "I remember he took his wife's death real hard! He got wounded on duty and retired after that. Why? What about him?"
"This says he was trying to help the kid in the photos, and they've taken him hostage too. These guys are going to rape the kid and they're going to kill both the boy and Calvary if we don't do something to stop them."
"What the fuck?"
"He includes directions to this Burrows' place."
Sal paused in his thoughts. "Damn! We can't take any chances that it's a joke." He continued. "Frank, Get on the computers and see if you find anything on this Clyde Burrows or ...his boy, Willard. And just for the hell of it, check out this Rusty Balls. Who knows? Meanwhile, I guess I'd better take a trip down to Goshen!
"You? Why not send a couple of our guys down there?" Frank suggested.
"I'm not going to waste our manpower over what might be nothing more than some cooked up lies to try and get someone in trouble. It's only about a half hour away and I've got no appointments. And anyway, look at the clock, it's nearly six, almost time for me to be off duty in any case. So, I'll just go down and check it out."
"Do you want backup, Sal?" Frank asked, concerned for his fellow police officer and friend.
"I'll take my own car. Less conspicuous and I can still keep radio contact. If I need help, you'll know it. You're almost off duty too, but I'd appreciate it if you can stick around and get that information to me. Copy these names down. If you can get anything on them, you let me know." He ordered.
Frank quickly complied by writing down the names, as well as the directions to the Burrows', and handed the letter back over to Sal.
"Will do, Captain!" Frank promised and watched the man go over to the coat rack in the office.
Sal grabbed his camel-colored, sheep-lined coat and his fawn colored Stetson hat. He put the letter with the directions in his coat's front pocket. "Don't show anybody else that video, or those pictures of that kid. If this is all some bullshit, we could be setting ourselves up for a big lawsuit if word gets out about how we handle this."
"I'll lock 'em up in your desk drawer till you get back, Sal. Like you said, it may be nothin' but still ...you be careful, y' hear?"
Sal drew himself up to the little man and putting his strong arms around Frank, he grabbed his firm butt cheeks, "And what? Not get to have these welcome me back when I return?" he smiled and left Frank by himself in the office. Within moments he was in his car and off to Goshen.
Frank stood silently in contemplation as his Captain left the room. He picked up the strip of photos and the tape, shook his head with a sigh, and made his decision. He punched in a seven digit phone number.
At least the weather had warmed up again and during the past two weeks much of the snow had melted away. Still, Sal knew it wouldn't be totally gone from the wooded hills down past Bessemer way. According to the directions, he'd be going past the town of McCalla and entrance to highway 459, then turning right onto the beginning of several logging roads that climbed up into the hills. He should get there in about thirty-five forty minutes. During the ride, he reminded himself of why he really wanted to see what this was about.
His fuck-buddy, Frank, may have been in the open about his sexual preferences, but other than being the recipient of an occasional blow job or a quick screw, Sal never let on about his own, deep desires; the strongest being with the handsome, Sergeant Calvary Edwards. Sal's mind raced with imaginary possibilities of how Calvary could possibly be involved in all this homosexual intrigue. If what the note had to say was at all true ...then did he dare assume? Hope?
He carried strong feelings for Calvary for years but of course, never let on to him about them, nor to anyone else. He kept his longings to himself and worked out his sexual needs by allowing Frank, and no one else, to give him that occasional release.
Frank was a terrific guy, fun, and a real sweetheart. But as long as he had unresolved issues regarding Calvary, he could never let himself give in to any meaningful relationship with anyone else. Even though he knew the little man cared deeply for him, he just couldn't respond to him other than sexually. Eager for the man's physical attention to his cock, but emotionally detached.
It was all so complicated, and pretty stupid, he chided himself. Cal was straight, and whatever is going on, there was no way that Cal would have any sexual interests in him. If Cal was involved in any of this, Sal was certain it was for some altruistic purpose. That's the kind of man he was, always caring about others and wanting to help the underdog, especially women and kids who were being physically or sexually abused.
But, if Cal was in danger ...if his life was being threatened, he had to find out and help him in any way that he could.
He was barely out of Birmingham when Frank was calling him on his radio. He was somewhat shocked that his cock responded at the sound of the man's voice.
"Yeah, Frank, go ahead," he said, after he adjusted himself then picked brought the mike to his lips.
"Sal, we got nothing on most of these guys listed here, except some complaints, and an old, but still standing warrant for Clyde Burrows. Seems he tends to bully the locals down there. I guess someone passing through made a complaint and a warrant was filed, but he was never arrested on it.
"One of our detectives here grew up close to Goshen. He says he remembers Burrows having a retarded kid and that everybody thought the old man was doing something screwy with him, but there were no official complaints and the kid never said anything. Our guy says the folks down that way are real good at keepin' secrets, so there's no tellin' whether there's anything to all this or not. This Rusty Balls guy is a local fix-it handyman. His real name's Caleb 'n' he's got a half brother, I think, named Malachi that they call Blue. Can you believe it?"
"What about the guy who left the envelope? He call, or come back?"
"Uh-uh, no Sir. But we do know who he is. His name's Peaceable Drummer and that's what he is too. A salesman. His reputation is as quite the ladies' man, one of our female officers says, but that sure doesn't match up with what we saw."
"You didn't mention that, did you?" Sal asked.
"Hell no, I never said a word about it. But I told a couple of the guys you wanted him for some questioning, so they're out looking for him as we speak." Frank finished.
"Okay. Good work, Frank. At least that old warrant gives me a reason to look into this guy and go on his property."
"You be real careful, Sal. This Burrows guy's got a mean reputation for fighting, so I doubt he's going to let you take him in without one."
"Well, unless shit is happening that this Drummer guys says is happening, there won't a reason to have to take Burrows in. I'm guessing the guy who made that old complaint isn't anywhere around here to testify against him by now.
"I'll get back to you when I get down there in about twenty-five minutes. Later, Frank. Out." He hung up his radio without waiting for a reply. His car clock read nearly six-ten.
He picked up his speed as he drove past the Hueytown exit off highway twenty. What was going to happen when he got there? If this was nothing but elaborate bullshit that Drummer came up with, how suspicious would it seem for the Captain of the SCU to be going all this way to arrest some schmuck down in Goshen for an old assault warrant? But why would Drummer have the police go through all this if there were nothing to it? He had to know he could be found and his life would be put to hell for falsely misleading the police, much less falsely accusing other people of kidnapping and hostage taking.
No, the more he thought about it, the more certain he was that this wasn't a hoax or just a means of revenge against the men who had sex with him at that bar. Was he the willing recipient of a mass orgy or not? It was hard to tell. In the letter, he says he was raped. In retrospect, he considered how the camera never did show the position of Drummer's hands and feet. So, the guy could have been bound and raped, but then who took the video and how did the 'victim' get his hands on it?
The McCalla exit flew by and highway 459 exit was just ahead. His first turn-off to the right would be about another half mile, and he felt a rise in his body temperature as his anxiety grew. His body hair rose in anticipation and his nerves were tensed. Sal was afraid he was losing his policeman's objectivity; his emotions could trip him up if there were trouble and Calvary was indeed involved in any of this.
He hadn't seen Cal for almost two years, since he was retired from the Special Crimes Unit. His wound hadn't damaged the man's amazing good looks or that big, warm smile of his that welcomed you in and then permanently kept him inside your heart. He felt a familiar warmth rise in his groin along with Cal's visage smiling at him. He saw himself naked and caressing Cal in the mirrored reflection of his mind's eye. He sighed at the thought and narrowly missed the turn-off.
The old logging roads snaked through the thick forests. No longer in use, their ancient ruts and gullies bumped and tossed his car about. The closer he got to his destination, the more anxious he became. He instinctively patted his coat and felt the hard security of his .38 quietly waiting orders from its shoulder holster. He had a long career in the force with an excellent service record. His instincts always played out, and the closer he got to this Burrows' place the more concerned he became. Maybe he should call for backup. But what for? There was nothing of real evidence that anything criminal was going on, only the testimony of a witness who took off from the station. Still, he picked up his radio to have the comfort of Frank's voice on the other end, just in case.
"Salvo to base, come in," he called on the microphone.
"This is base, Salvo, we have you." A voice returned.
Sal glanced quizzically at his microphone as though he'd called a wrong number. "Ah, where's Frank?"
"Frank's off duty, Sir. This is Sergeant Beller. Can I help you?"
"Ah, no, Sergeant, not now. I'm doing a routine check on a complaint. Just confirming my radio contact with base."
"Reading you loud and clear, Sir. Will that be all?"
"Ah ...any idea when Frank left?"
"About twenty minutes ago, Sir."
"Did he say anything? Leave any messages for me? SHIT!" Sal swerved and barely missed a deer that came jumping out into his path. He dropped the microphone and using both hands, he righted the car back on the dirt road.
"Captain ...are you there? Sir?" his radio called to him.
He picked up the hand-held mike. "Yeah, I'm here ...just missed a goddamn deer!"
"Everything all right, Sir?"
"Yeah, fine...so anything from Frank?"
"He didn't say anything to me, Sir. Hold on please." The radio cut off and came back on about ten seconds later.
"Sir? Hello Sir, Officer Fischer here. Last I saw Frank, he got a phone call, or maybe he called somebody, but whoever he was talkin' to, got Frank all worked up. When he saw me looking at him, he suddenly acted real smiley, you know, pointed to the phone and did that circle around the temple with his finger, like the person he was talkin' to was a crazy. Personally, it sounded an awful lot like a 'lover's spat', you know what I mean, Sir?"
"Really? How's that, Fischer?" Sal asked.
"He acted all apologetic over the phone, you know? Said somethin' like, "Don't worry, I won't let him hurt you! I'll get there as soon as I can!" It was right after he said that he noticed me lookin' over at him.
"And then he left the building?"
"Oh yeah! In a real hurry too! But I just figured it was just our little Frank, goin' after a hot date or somethin'. Is there a problem, Sir?"
He paused in his reply, distracted by his thoughts. "Ah, ...no, no! No problem. Put Sergeant Beller back on."
A second later, "Beller here, yes Sir."
"Are you on for the duration, Sergeant?" Sal asked him.
"Till three this morning, Sir."
"Okay, Beller. If you hear from Sergeant LeRobinet, you radio me. Got it?"
"Yes Sir! Where will you be, Sir?"
"I'm headin' to Goshen. Checking out a minor complaint," he replied and considered the irony in his choice of words. Well, the boy was young, but at sixteen, he wasn't legally considered a minor, he thought to himself. Maybe that was a bad thing, maybe not. He wasn't paid to question the laws. "I'll radio in if I need anything."
"Yes Sir. Will that be all, Sir?"
"That's it. Over." He put the mike back on its receiver.
It was six-thirty and the heated sky eagerly invited the cooler spread of the night's darkness. Defiantly, the April, full moon filtered its brightness through the towering trees and made navigating the country roads easier than would have been possible otherwise. He slowed down and came to a stop when he thought he was near his destination. He turned on the car's dome light and confirmed his directions to be sure. "Yep, it should be just up ahead," he said to himself as he tossed the piece of paper aside and shut out the dome light. As a precaution, he turned off his headlights and exploited the moonlight to guide him ahead. He inched the car slowly forward and spotted the driveway entrance. He could see a beaten pick-up truck as well as a dark van that were already parked in the yard. The moon light lit up the lettering on the pick-up truck just enough for him to read the owner's name, Rusty Balls. "Well I'll be damned!", he said to himself.
His wheels distressingly crunched over debris, tree limbs and stones as he edged towards the tar papered shanty before him. His came to a quiet stop behind the pick-up truck. This might be a long night. If he approached the shack, he'd have to use extraordinary stealth. It was so quiet outside in these hills and in these woods that even the slightest sound was keenly audible. He looked down at his car radio and shut it off.
By the time Clyde and Willie arrived back home, along with Malachi and Cal, their unwilling guest, the men who were already in the small house had put their clothes back on. Teddy was still blindfolded, sock in mouth, and positioned on a chair with the rope around his neck. His hands were bound and his legs were becoming painfully weak with fatigue. Every passing second seemed an eternity and his current survival was sustained by his sheer panic at what would happen if his legs gave out. The coarseness of the rope against his fragile neck painfully reminded him of his frightening position; not to make any sudden moves. Clyde's first order to Matt Bueford was to remove the sock from the boy's mouth and then the blindfold.
Teddy lost his resolve not to move when he his eyes firs saw Cal. In his excitement he called to Cal which made his body jerk forward. The chair began to tip and would have gone over to its side had not the strong hand of Clyde Burrows held it in place and brought the boy steadily back in place.
"Now, now boy. Don't be in such a rush to hang yo'self. I reckon there's too much fun to be had first, and I have no doubt it would grieve your big friend here," he said nodding to Cal, "to see you swinging from my poor rafters before he gave his pretty little paramour a big wet kiss goodbye."
Clyde nodded to Willie, directing him to sit Cal down on the floor near to the sofa, which was back in neat order after John, Matt, Rusty and Teddy had used it earlier.
Malachi walked over to the Teddy. "Hello, little boy, my name is Blue. What's yours?" Teddy stared wide-eyed with fright at this giant of a man who was so big; he was practically eye to eye with him, even though he was standing precariously on a chair. "You're pretty," said Malachi as he looked down and reached for the boy's zipper. "I bet you taste really, really good!"
Rusty scooted over quickly to his big brother. "Now, now, Blue. Hold yer turn till Clyde says it's time to play," he said nervously under the glare of Clyde's staring eyes.
"It's okay, Blue. Go ahead and take that piece of candy out of that boy's trousers," said Clyde. "Give it a few licks and tell me what you think of it. Only be careful. Don't let that chair tip over the boy's standin' on."
All eyes, except Cal's were on Malachi as he pulled the boy's zipper down and more gently than one would imagine capable for such a large man, he carefully took out the boy's flaccid cock. "Ooh, it's so pretty!" Blue whispered. He bent his head down and began to take wide, wet licks at the boy's cock. "Oh yummy! It's sweet meat! Blue likes it! Blue wants to suck it, make it spurt!"
"All in time, big boy," Clyde told him. "First, we're going to have some more fun with the little boy's policeman hero and lover!" He looked directly at Cal. "Oh, wouldn't the Guvnah love to know the carryings on in his po-lice force!"
Cal opened his mouth to protest but was interrupted.
"Yeah, I know, you ain't in the po-lice force no more, Mr. Hero. Still, the Guvnah would never tolerate the awful press coverage over some nasty, dirty goin's on between little boys and..."
Blue suddenly hollered out, "I want to keep 'im and make 'im squirt all the time!" and he pulled on Teddy's stiffening penis. As he did, the chair the boy was trying desperately to balance on suddenly began to fall over. Teddy looked up as he felt his feet leave the chair and the rope tighten around his bruised neck.
Time seemed to go into slow motion as all eyes dropped to the falling chair. It seemed to float; to drift leisurely to the floor then bounce as though it were rubber until it settled about a foot from where it had been.
Stunned, Cal looked back up horribly expecting Teddy to be dangling from the rope, neck broken and dead. He was both relieved and nauseated when he saw Teddy being held securely in Blue's huge arms as the big man buried his face in Teddy's crotch, feasting on the boy's now hardened cock. In raising the boy's hips up to his mouth, the rope hung slack from the rafter, temporarily relieving some of the harsh chafing about the boy's neck.
"Jesus H! Will you watch what the hell yer doin'?" Rusty yelled at Malachi.
Quickly recovering from the initial shock of the moment, Clyde, seeing Blue holding the boy like a big submarine sandwich and grunting his pleasure for his tasty meal, began laughing uproariously.
The others looked on hesitantly before they allowed themselves to follow suite and join in Clyde's lead. Rusty was much relieved at seeing Clyde laughing and was the first to start laughing with him. The Bueford's looked at each other, then at Blue, and began laughing as well. Cal saw no humor in any of it.
The laughter built up until Clyde saw Cal's angry expression. "Shut the fuck up, you assholes!" he yelled and abruptly silenced the laughter from the room. "What the hell's the matter with you? The boy nearly got kilt!!" He looked severely into Rusty and Bueford's eyes.
When a few seconds of the silence had passed, and he knew he had all but Blue's attention, he began his coarse laughter all over again. He walked over to Cal at the sofa and whacked him on the shoulder. "Aw, c'mon, Calley baby, lighten up! Yer boy's okay. Looks like he's in mighty good hands...and mouth, fer as I can see!
"Rusty. Pick that chair up and get th' rope off that boy's neck. Blue...!"
Rapt into his own pleasure, Blue was oblivious to all that had just occurred around him and didn't hear Clyde calling him.
"Blue!" Clyde raised his voice and tapped the big man on the shoulder. Getting the happy man's attention, Clyde tapped the man's cheeks. "Why don't you take yer lunch there into the kitchen. Y' can lay 'im on the table an' finish yer meal there while we have some fun with his man in here," he finished, nodding to Cal.
"Oh yeah," said Blue happily, his childish smile moist from drool. He turned the still bound boy and cradled him like a baby in his arms. Looking like a giddy boy with his first puppy, he smiled at Teddy. "Malachi's gonna take good care of you, pretty boy. Make you happy."
"Yeah, yeah, you go do that now, Blue. Go on!" Clyde dismissed the man with a wave and a thumb gesture directing him to the kitchen. Blue left the others without hesitation or a glance backward.
Looking over at Cal, he said, "Y' know, that Blue looks so hungry for that boy, I think he just might eat that boy alive!
"Now you, sir, ...you are another story. Okay, boys, it's time for fun and games. Let's make our guest here a bit more accessible!"
Rusty! Grab m' video camera that Peaceable was so nice about givin' to me. We're gonna make us another Steven Spielburger epic movie here! And Officer Calvary is gonna be the star...again!
"You boys, start takin' those clothes off'n our star performer."
Suddenly, from the kitchen, a loud crashing was heard. Cal tensed at the sound, wide eyed and concerned.
"Sound like Blue's having a good time in there already!" Clyde told him.
"Why don't you just kill us and get it over with, Clyde. You know you're going to anyway." Cal stared the big man in the eyes.
"Well now, that's prob'ly true, but I have a strong suspicion, while you might be ready to die, you sure as hell don't want to witness your boy here dangling and dancing from the end of a rope. Do you? I can tell you, tha's not a purty sight." Clyde squatted in front of the man as John and Mathew began removing Cal's boots.
"Furst thing, the drop is so short, it won't even snap his little neck, so it won't be a merciful, quick death for 'im. Noooo. He'll jes' hang there, kicking 'n' dancin' while his throat makes all kinds o' gurglin' noises and his little eyes will start blowing out of their sockets. At first, his face will turn a real red color, then blue, then a deep purple color as his lungs finally give up tryin' to get air and his body decides to tell his little heart to stop sending all that blood around cause there ain't no use anymore. And then he's dead.
"Dead, dead, dead and dead!" Clyde moved his face to within inches of Cal's nose and began his coarse laughing again.
Cal's immediate reaction was to spit forcefully into Clyde's grinning face, to which Clyde slammed his beefy fist against Cal's lower lip and jaw. Clyde fell back and hit his head against the wall by the sofa and sending him out like a light.
"Whoa!" John and Mathew said simultaneously as they jumped up and looked down at the prone policeman passed out on the floor.
"Shit! Motherfucker! Git the rest of those clothes of him and then wake him up." He turned to Rusty. "And turn off that fucking camera, idiot. No use wastin' film while the cocksucker's out cold.
"Willie! Go in the kitchen and see how yer brother's doin' with the boy."
Blue would have been in seventh heaven as he got to the kitchen, but the young boy he so cherished and wanted to make love to, just wouldn't stop crying.
Holding the boy in one arm, he took use his other arm and swept the kitchen table of all the dishes, glasses, cups silverware and old food that had collected on it during the past few days, and gently laid the boy down. The crashing noise made the boy jump in the big man's arms as he felt himself being lowered to the table.
"Please don't let them hurt Calvary. Please." The boy looked up at Blue with tears still moist in his eyes.
"Aw, he's a big man. They ain't gonna hurt him. They jus' gonna have some fun, like before."
"No, really. They're going to kill us, Blue. They're going to kill us for sure."
"Ain't nobody gonna hurt you. You think Blue would let anybody hurt you! You like Blue, I know. Blue likes you, too. Make you feel real good. You play with Blue's big, big one and you see. Blue squirts lots and lots of milk."
Teddy's mind raced on what to do. He watched Blue drop and step out of his overalls and saw that enormous cock of his swaying heavily and starting to gorge itself with blood to stiffness. He knew man was slow, and he was pretty sure that Blue didn't really want to hurt him, but the man couldn't conceive on how much damage he could do if he decided to put that cock of his into Theo's small asshole. Instinctively and suddenly, he sat up, hugged the big man around the neck, rapidly, tenderly applying small kisses along the man's smooth cheeks and neck.
"Oh, Blue! Please, please be my friend. Help me. Get me and Cal away from here. Don't let Clyde hurt us."
At first Blue stood there shocked. His mouth gaped in wonder. No one. No one is his whole life kissed him before. Here was this, oh so pretty boy, hugging him and kissing him like he really cared. Unconsciously, tears filled the man's eyes and began rolling down his cheeks. He gently reacted by picking the boy up from the table and wrapping his arms around him in a soft, caress, unexpectedly gentle from such a large man.
His voice choking, Malachi spoke softly in Teddy's ear. "Blue your friend. No one gonna hurt you. No one gonna hurt big policeman. He's your friend he's Blue's friend too. He was good to Blue. You good to Blue too!"
"Well, ain't this a pretty picture!" Willie's voice suddenly rang out in the kitchen. "What the hell are you doin', Blue? C'mon. Fuck the brat and let's get out of here. There's a hangin' to be done."
Malachi turned to Willie, Teddy still in his arms. "No. Nobody hanging here. Nobody hangin' my friend, my boy."
"Oh, Jesus H. Christ! He's just another kid, Blue. Like in your magazines. Only this time it's real. You get to actually fuck 'im! You don't mean anything to him!
"You think he likes you cause he's kissin' on you? He's jus' tryin' to save his squirrelly little neck, 's all he's doin'.
"It's not true! I do like you Blue," Teddy said to the man holding him. "Clyde, he treats Willie so mean, Willie don't even know what's goin' on."
"You shut the fuck up, brat. You don't know what the fuck you talkin' 'bout!" He took a step towards Blue and the big man held his hand out to Willie's chest, stopping him dead in his tracks.
Teddy continued, "I do so, Willie! Clyde told me. As soon as he could he was gonna get rid of you so he could have me all to himself. You know that's what he wants. You know it! You just don't want to admit it!
"I just figured this all out. You think after he kill's Cal he's gonna kill me? Hell no!"
Malachi stood dumfounded with the Teddy in his arms as he spoke down to Willie.
"The rope there is for you, Willie. It's for you!" Teddy turned meaningfully to Blue. "He ain't gonna want witnesses either, Blue. When he kills Willie, he'll have to kill you, too."
Deep inside Willie's fears, he couldn't argue against what the boy was saying. His small brain reeled with conflicts. He stood staring at Blue and Teddy, his mind tossed between running in and telling his Pa what was just said, and yet knowing certain, he'd just heard the truth.
"Willie," Theo continued, "I never wanted Clyde. I've never wanted to take your place. You know that's true. It's Clyde who always makes the decisions. He loves getting you all worked up and jealous, and then what does he do? He makes a fool out of you. He was playin' a game, ...all that 'wife' business. Only to turn around and hurt you some more.
"Willie, all the hope in the world isn't going to change him. His only thought is to keep me with him for the rest of my life and get rid of you. But before he can do that, he's got to make one more big show. One more big game of his. It's all pretense, Willie, he don't care nothing for anybody but himself. He will kill you."
"Blue won't let Clyde hurt Willie. He's my brother. Clyde won't hurt him, never!" Malachi's small mind wasn't that slow. Everything Teddy was telling Willie got through loud and clear, and somehow it all made sense to the big man.
Willie looked up at his big brother with confusion filling his mind. His firm resolve to destroy the boy in Blue's arm was melting; becoming overpowered by the real fear and truth he'd always known of his Pa's motivations, but never wanted to face them. But there it was. Spoken out loud and hanging in the air, the truth of his father's real intentions rang in his ear with deafening clarity but was shockingly interrupted by a shout from the other room.
"Willie! Get yer fat ass in here!" Years of psychological manipulation took over and the boy snapped unhesitatingly to his father's command. Maybe, if he really, really tried, his Pa would change his mind and love him after all. At least, the dog obeying his master's voice made that loud ringing in his ears stop. For the moment.
Watching Willie run into the other room, Blue stood with the naked Theo in his arms wondering what he should do.
When Willie came into the living room he found all the men, except his Pa, naked. The tall, handsome policeman was stripped and lying on his back unconscious and on the floor. The Bueford boys were kneeling on either side of Cal, taking turns moving his head back and forth, each pushing their cock into his mouth when he faced them. Of course, they could only spread the man's lips apart, his teeth were shut tight as he lay there sleeping.
Rusty was filming the boys' fun while Clyde paced angrily back and forth, impatient at the Cal's seeming unwillingness to wake up.
"What happened, Pa?"
"What the fuck y' think happened? The man spit at me, so I busted him one! Asshole banged his head and now he out of it. C'mon you fuckers," he said to John and Mathew, stop playing around and get him up. Ain't gonna be no fun if he's not awake to see and feel what's happening to 'im."
"Pa," Willie said, "I gotta go pee. I'll be right back."
"Wait, that gives me a idea. Damn if that won't wake his ass up. Whip it out and start peein' on 'im, boy."
Willie hesitated as he looked down at the unconscious man.
"What the hell are you waitin' for, you asshole? Do like I tell you! Piss on the fucker!"
The Bueford boys moved aside as Willie opened the fly of his jeans, maneuvered his flaccid cock free from the confines of his underwear and positioned his feet on either side of Cal's head. He held his cock, aiming at the face of the man below him, and stood there.
"Well?" Clyde asked him.
"I'm tryin', Pa. It jus' don't wanna come up, all a sudden."
Clyde walked over to the closet near the front door. He opened it and within moments stood their with double barreled shotgun aimed right at Willie's chest.
"Goddamn it, boy. I tell you to jump, you jump. I tell you to piss, you better ass start pissin'!"
Rusty dropped the camera to the floor and backed away. The Bueford boys cleared a big swath between themselves and Willie who was staring wide-eyed, alternating his vision between his father's fury and the huge black holes of the shotgun aiming right at him.
"Pa! What are y' doin'?"
"Are you gonna piss on that man or..."
Outside in the car, Sal could hardly contain himself any longer. He'd heard a crash of sounded like broken dishes, but he just wasn't sure. Was he was sure about was the longer he waited out here, the more likely, if anything illegal were going on in that shack, it would only get worse. He was just about to get out of the car when a tap came at the passenger window.
Instinctively he reached for his weapon but fortunately recognized Frank LeRobinet peering in at him before he fired.
Jumping from the car he hoarsely whispered to him. "What the hell's the matter with you? Are you trying to get yourself killed? What the hell are you doing here?"
"I'm sorry, Sal! I didn't mean to scare you, but I had to come up here! I couldn't let you go in there alone."
"Why the fuck didn't you radio me first, Goddamn it!" He was calming down, but he wasn't all the way there yet.
"I tried, but you're radio must be off."
Sal stared at Frank for a moment, totally chagrined that he'd forgotten he'd turned off his radio earlier. "All right, all right," he said quickly. "That still doesn't tell me what you're doing here.
His head cowed, Frank began his story. "I lied to you when I said I didn't know that guy who came in with the tape. I just didn't want to give up my personal stoolie, my insider.
"His name, like I said, is Peaceable Drummer. I've caught him a number of scams and to keep himself out of jail, he fills me in on the local goings on up at Bessemer. Of course I was surprised as hell when he showed up at the station. He said he didn't have time to explain, but when he handed me that envelope he couldn't stress enough how important it was that we look it over. He went out before I could ask him any more particulars."
"And you couldn't tell me that?" asked Sal.
"Well, until we'd seen that movie and you left to check things out, I just didn't think I needed to tell you. But I called Drummer right after you left. He said it was all true. This guy Clyde would stop at nothing and kill anybody that got in his way." He paused, "He was really scared, Sal. I promised him I wouldn't let Cal hurt him. After I hung up, I made up my mind to get right out to you and let you know just how much danger you'd really be in. I really think we should call for back up, Sal."
"Damn it, Frank. We can't call for back up without cause of anything suspicious happening right here and now! We don't know when that shit happened at Milo's. Could have been weeks ago. That don't mean we can go storming into some guy's house without a warrant just cause we think he's a fucking lunatic and perverted sadist."
"Well, what the hell are we going to do? I have no doubt Calvary's in there, as well as that boy and God knows how many others."
"Shit, shit, shit! This gets worse by the second. Okay, I'm going try and get as close to the house as I can. You get in the car and turn my radio back on and if you have to, call for back up.
"By the way, how the hell did you get in back of me without my hearing you drive up?"
"Drummer told me exactly where this place was, so I parked about a quarter of a mile down the road and walked up."
Sal shook his head and quietly signaled Frank to get in the car. He began an incredibly intense and silent walk to the shack, no more than twenty yards from where he started out. Without warning, a loud gunshot exploded in the night air.
"Pa!" Shouted Malachi. He stood in the doorway with Theo still in his arms and saw Clyde aiming the shotgun at his brother, Willie.
Clyde's finger yanked at the trigger in surprise when he heard Blue shout. The gun blew fire, smoke and pellets with force and directly into Willie's chest cavity. The boy was lifted three feet into the air and across the room, landing first onto the sofa and bouncing like a rag doll to the floor. His blood sprayed all around the room, a great deal of it splashed on Blue and Teddy as they stood there in shock. Teddy buried his head into Blue's neck, crying hysterically, certain that Cal was dead as well as Willie.
Blue pulled the boy away from him and looked at him in the eyes. He told the boy quietly to get into the kitchen as he slowly brought him down to the floor.
Cal, instead ran over to the unconscious body of his beloved Calvary, crying and holding him for dear life.
Outside Sal was running to the house and Frank was quickly calling for help.
Clyde, at first, stared at his weapon. "Damn! The, the gun...it ...it jus' went off. I ...I din' mean t'...," then he looked up at Blue standing darkly in front of him. "This is your fault, boy. Fer scarin' me when you shouted like that. This is all yer doin'!"
Blue started walking in heavy paces straight at Clyde. Clyde sensing the big man's anger raised his shotgun again. Now, don't you do something stupid, boy! It was a accident, tha's all. A accident. Don't make me use this again!"
"You'd shoot me too? The boy was right? You was gonna kill Willie and me, wasn't you?"
"What are you talkin' about, Blue? I tol' you. It was a accident. But you take one more step at me an' this time it will be on purpose, boy!"
"Yeah, Clyde? You gonna shoot me with that gun, Clyde? 'Cause I didn't see you reload it after you shot Willie? You gonna kill me with a empty gun, Clyde?"
Clyde suddenly realized the truth of it. His eyes bulged in fear at Blue's approach. As a last effort to escape from the big man, he threw the shotgun at him then bolted for the door. Simultaneously, Rusty and the Bueford boys took off for the kitchen and scrambled out back door to parts unknown.
Just as Clyde got to the door the casing splintered and main portal suddenly exploded open from the kick that was executed on the other side. The wood slammed right into Clyde's face, busting his nose wide open and spraying his blood everywhere. He fell backwards and nearly landed atop Teddy and Cal still on the floor. Blue grabbed him before he landed and dragged him over to another side of the room.
Hauling Clyde between the alcove of the living room and kitchen, Blue squatted over the bleeding man's chest. "You was gonna kill me! You killed Willie! You're a bad man, you're a bad daddy!" The big man began pummeling his fists into Clyde's face, smashing skin into skull and skull into brain.
Sal took in the room quickly seeing the young boy and Calvary lying on the floor. He had his pistol drawn and yelled at the big man still beating the other man on the floor. Not knowing who was who, he shouted at Blue to stop what he was doing. "I'll have to shoot you, man! Stop! I'm not kidding! I'll shoot!"
Suddenly Teddy got up and ran to Blue. He stood at the man's back as the big man knelt over Clyde, still viciously attacking the lifeless man with his huge fists.
"Boy!" shouted Sal. "Get away from there!"
Ignoring the man, he cried out to Malachi. "Blue, you gotta stop, now. You gotta. You gotta stop hitting him, Blue. Please."
Theodore's insistent pleading got through to Blue and, sobbing, the big man finally relented; collapsing along side Clyde and leaning against the alcove parameter.
Teddy then went back to Cal who was slowly showing signs of coming to. The man Teddy thought was dead was still alive! He fell on top of Calvary hugging and kissing him.
Cal's eyes cleared as he woke to see his sweet Teddy's face smiling tearfully at him. He lifted his arms and held the boy close to him. He returned the boy's quick kisses; grateful to be alive and in love.
Captain Malguinera looked on. He too was grateful. Grateful that Calvary was alive, but also in silent awe of the love he witnessed pouring out from this young boy for the man that he himself loved. How would this play out? What would their futures be? His, the boy's, Calvary's and when he looked up in his thoughts, he saw that the big man who was beating on Clyde then lying against the wall only moments ago, left the room.
But from here on, that's a whole other story.