The Alexia Chronicles

Pie at Pearl's and then some

In her combined role as proprietor and waitress at PEARL’S FOOD & GAS on the highway between Alexia and Hope, Pearl heated up her three customers’ cups with hot coffee. “I’ll leave this right yonder on the coffee maker if you want more. Now tuck into your pie. I got to go fix that windshield wiper you put on wrong,” she pointed to Alexia’s Mayor Clayton A. and walked out the door.

He eyed her leak-stained ceiling and put up with being joshed by fellow citizen “Big Dan” G. and nearby Sheraton’s Thomas B., their go-between in the revival of ALEXIA CARES. Purportedly, it starred a visitor, an old friend of the late Judge Clarence D., the project’s founder and champion.

Thomas forked a stainless steel utensil through the soggy-cardboard crust of his pecan pie. “Must’ve been sitting around a few days.” He took his bite, made a reasonable face of approval, and asked, “Dan, what was it you wanted to tell us?”

Mayor Clayton regarded his cherry pie with suspicion but was ready to listen. The project was important to the suppression of juvenile delinquency among teen boys. Had won State recognition and caused some snooping. His Honor had handled that well but now was gone. It was up to them, the men of Alexia. There had been a committee, ad hoc of course.

Big Dan laid a hand on the linoleum countertop to make his point. “My boy says things are going good at old Judge Clarence’s house. Says there’s guys waiting for their chance. Y’know who’s helping out?”

The mayor and Thomas waited. They were keen to hear it second-hand. To compare.

“It’s working different than we thought. Word’s got ’round, thanks to Li’l Dan and Zeb who’re working on helping out even when Abe Falconer’s not in town.”

From their expressions, they did not seem to know. He had made the decision not to mention the relationship of his boy and Zeb. Too personal.

“How do you feel about that?” the mayor wanted to know.

Thomas felt blood flow where his buds could not see. He had screwed Zeb and was looking forward to Little Dan, who was “almost ready.”

Better keep my mouth zipped.

Pearl strode in, a grease rag clutched in one hand. “Y’all look cozy. Everything okay?”

“Doin’ great, Pearl. How’s the car?”

“Twenty or thirty more minutes ought to do it. Say,” she glanced through the dirt on her plate glass window, “looks like Sheriff Rick pulling in.”

“We told him we’d be here.”

The rag over her shoulder, Pearl took a mug and began filling it. “He likes apple pie. There’s a piece left.”

“We’ll get for him. You go back to my windshield wiper. Don’t worry.”

The wet kiss and touches to each other’s privates shared next to the sheriff’s car by portly Pearl and strapping Rick startled everybody, including Thomas. He chuckled into his coffee, “They share some history to back when Pearl was in the pleasure trade.”

“Right,” the mayor nodded. “Heard about that. Just didn’t expect to see ’em go at it that way today.”

Hope’s Sheriff Rick J. doffed his Stetson-style hat and shook hands the way men do even when they are going to discuss sex. “Glad to make it. Tell you the reason later, if it matters. So, what’s up? What’d I miss?”

Big Dan sat the piece of stale apple pie in front of him, grinned foolishly, and backtracked, adding, “Zeb and my boy are giving blow jobs when Abe’s not at the house and, I think, sometimes when he is.” A scribbled list was extracted from Big Dan’s shirt pocket. “Here’re some of the names. Maybelle’s Larry and Brad’s Lew came first…”

Thomas and Mayor Clayton remembered those names from their meeting in City Hall. Bet they did, Thomas thought.

“…followed by – Hell, just look at this.” He passed around the list.

“Whew. Can I show this to Principal Orson at our School? He’ll recognize these names and may be able to advise which ones need the most attention. Say, I think this boy” – he showed the name Joey – “is only in the ninth grade. Now that’s asking for trouble,” the mayor said.

Rick cocked his head, “If your principal needs a little reinforcement from the law, I could have a chat with the boy. You know, if he’s only fourteen and cute the way they are at that age, he might trip up old dishonest Abe.”

“Shit.” Big Dan fumed, “If my boy’s involved in messing with a kid, I’ll whomp his butt somethin’ he’ll regret.” For a second, his eyes squeezed shut.

“You look like you’re keeping back something, Dan,” the mayor said. “What is it?”

Big Dan confided, “Li’l Dan says he’s going to be an acolyte like Zeb when he racks up at least six of his own recruits for Abe.” His eyes met Thomas’s head on, “You said you’d keep that guy honest and there wouldn’t be any religious stuff – so what’s this crap about acolytes?”

“Better look into it, Thomas. Serious-like and soon.”

“Rick, finish up that pie and let’s pay a house call over at the judge’s,” Thomas nudged the sheriff’s ankle. “You guys let us handle this.”

“I’m going, too. One’s my boy.” Big Dan, glad to have an excuse to see for himself, belched.

Pearl peeked around the door, “Y’all ready to pay?”

* * *

“Uh-oh, looks like trouble,” Zeb pushed Li’l Dan’s mouth off his dick.

Dan looked up, wet-faced, “Huh?”

“Your dad and that guy from Sheraton and the sheriff just drove in. Quick, wipe your mouth ’n’ get on the bed. Where’s the Bible?”

Their passage through the kitchen and toward the main bedroom, a few seconds only, brought the men upon quite a scene: two innocent-looking teens, propped side by side by pillows, reading a Bible verse aloud together, heads nodding as one.

“Therefore whatever you desire for men to do to you, you shall also do to them.”

“Hi, Dad.”

“Hi, Sheriff.” Zeb, unruffled, asked, “You interested in Matthew 7:12? It’s a rule that’s so hot.”

Thomas managed to keep his jaw in place. Had religion entered by the back door?

Rick and Big Dan looked at each other – and broke up.

“Dad, did you hear how the main syllables – Zeb said Rev. Falconer showed him – how they tell us ‘forever desire men’ and ‘do you – also do them’?”

“That’s our calling,” Zeb sounded convinced.

Sheriff Rick sternly pointed a finger, “Men only. Nothing there about boys.”

“Son, you two been messing with Joey?”

Guilty faces, eyes wide, mouths agape.

Eighteen-year-old Zeb was forthright, “He begged us and said he wanted to be dedicated. Don’t look at us like that, Sheriff. He’s real cute. Anxious-like.” Boldly, he added, “You’d have done him, only you’d have hurt him ’cause you’re too big – and I outta know.”

“Yeah, we were just right.”

Thomas restrained Rick, who was red in the face.

“Where’s Abe Falconer in all this?” Thomas demanded.

“Not here. I’m here, carrying on for him. I’m getting Li’l Dan ready for the Reverend’s ‘inner search for the Truth’ so he can be an acolyte and do great work.”

Big Dan, remembering the sincerity of Judge Clarence back in his day, suspected foul play by the so-called Reverend, “Your dad Jeb’s okay with you doin’ this?

“Yessir. Long as I help him with the farm mornings and afternoons. And I do.”

* * *

Satisfied that they were as they were, alone and in bed together – this time without a stitch of clothes on – Li’l Dan reached for Zeb’s most reachable part.

The reaction was instantaneous. From flaccid and withdrawn to full tumescence in seconds, Zeb succumbed to a touch that grew in confidence with each of his inches. Then more as his friend’s other hand stroked what lay in their relaxed pouch at the base.

“I should go back to what I was doing, shouldn’t I?”

“Please. You were just beginning to get me near the back of your throat.”

“It’s kinda scary.”

“It is, the first time or two, but I learned and you will, too. The Reverend won’t have you on the team until you can swallow me and him. And we gotta get you more used to being open in the back.”

“You really know how to suck and fuck, Zeb. I look up to you.”

Zeb’s lips curved perfectly into a broad smile, “Looking up is what you can do right now – from between my legs.”

* * *

Conniver that he was, the Rev. Abraham Falconer had more on his mind than those in the know suspected. Alexia so far had proved revelatory. Zebulon, now well-skewered, was in the palm of his hand and leading a new boy toward particular righteousness.

The merest thought of Zeb’s body under his, flopping back and forth, sufficed to wind-up his lust. As it rose, he had to fight the distractions of that, of country traffic on the road (narrowly missing a possum which scurried across like a rat), of pie at Pearl’s, and of a more distant memory.

What came flooding back, as he burped from the pie, was the marvelous way a certain fourteen-year-old had grown accustomed to being screwed the way he had flattened eighteen-year-old Zeb. Too bad. Extraordinary!

Had their pleasure not been vocalized to the acute extent they had let it be, Mrs. Wilkinson, the boy’s mother, would not have called the police, Falconer would not have been arrested, charged, tried, and sentenced. Exposure as bespoiler of the under-aged wrecked his ministry’s profit in that distant municipality.

* * *

Johnny Wilkinson was sent for counseling.

The shrink’s mouth watered the more Johnny talked, sprawled on the couch as he was. Private therapy (paid for by the State) refocused the boy, who had been frightened by the ordeal of dealing with investigators. Made to testify – behind closed doors – Johnny had been a traumatized mess.

Long-term sessions with Dr. Grigorios Apollyon straightened him out as they saw eye-to-eye on that very couch. Later, after thorough training in Greek methods for adolescent problems, Johnny’s middle school guidance counselor saw to his reintegration with the student body. Initially, he integrated himself with that student’s body.

Love blossomed.

* * *

Falconer’s incarceration provided food for thought and, from associates behind the same bars, information of value to the big man’s future. Later. Upon release for good behavior – what else? – Falconer lived quietly, drawing upon a bank account prosecuting authorities had not found.

It was in his shadowy location – the rear apartment of a non-descript building – that word from Sheraton’s friendly Sheriff Rick reached Falconer. Barely legal pleasures of plentiful, quirky boy prongs and backsides awaited the right man in the little town of Alexia. Falconer’s prurience threshold had been crossed. Elated and challenged once again by the rigged visit of young Zeb (for counseling), the Reverend had moved forward via official authorization to use Judge Clarence’s house as his base of operations.

Short term: a few of the local lads, rewards for that good behavior. More in time, if the two boys in Alexia did their job recruiting. Long term: the community as stepping stone to the money for which he longed with ambition.

Not money from the people of Alexia necessarily. From them, he wanted land and legitimacy. If Zeb’s father, an aspirational poet, could be conned out of his farm, Falconer could realize his dream: a State-funded “campground.” Perhaps dedicated to the memory of Judge Clarence. Yes, Camp Clarence.People in Capitol City from the governor-elect down would be keen to support the cause if its cover were right.

* * *

To Li’l Dan’s bug-eyed astonishment, Falconer eased out of sweat-drenched Zeb.

“You seen enough?” he asked through a lopsided smile.

The boy, ruddy-cheeked, unable to speak, nodded nervously at the glistening monster now fully in view. Accentuating his nakedness, a dripping, unreachable hard-on. Wrists roped together in the small of his back a few inches above the most bulbous plug he had yet experienced added fire to his soaring dismay. He twitched. Antsy. Events during recent afternoons in bed with Zeb flashed through his mind.

Endorphins flustered his head. His whole body blushed. Fucking had progressed further than sucking. “You gotta be ready,” friendly Zeb had said as he pushed into him with cock and dildos every time. More time was needed with his gagging, but trying did excite him. Still, there was no way he could deep throat the Reverend. Yet. The thought strained and made him weak.

If Zeb can do it….

Zeb’s scrutiny of Li’l Dan’s predicament gave him the idea to catch his eye and point to the bed. “Come over here. I’ll give up my place. It’s your moment to be reckoned with.”

He sounded cheerful.

Falconer smiled luridly at the timid – no, shaky approach. “Come unto me. I will make you another piscator hominum – a fisher of men…and boys.” Standing, he beckoned.

Reassuring touches to his arms, his thighs, especially to his buttocks as he was spun around brightened Li’l Dan’s prospects. No caresses of his mouth or neck must mean…. The thought remained unfinished. Falconer’s great, slicked organ met his new disciple’s well-secured palms.

“Take its measure,” the man said, loosening the cotton rope to free the boy’s hands. “Feel it well. It will soon answer your prayers as only it and I can. There, there – don’t be shy. You know where it is meant to go.”

Fingers tightened on the slippery, hot pole as much as they dared.

“Now bend over. Let me see how ready you are.”

Li’l Dan bent.

Waited.

Began to worry.

The deep voice said, “You need a little work. I’ll sit here. Lie over my lap.”

A spanking? For what?

Spanking was involved – after tantalizing pressure was put on the plug and his butt manipulated maddeningly. Each spank against the plug was not punishment for a transgression, he was told, but preparation.

Each spank meant something to Zeb, who identified with his personal recruit’s mounting submissiveness.

Damn! He’s into it! The Rev’s gonna show him the ropes – inwardly laughing – the real ropes that’ll tie him up for life, like me. Zeb flexed his ass which was well acquainted with those large hands and their impact.

He caught Falconer’s eyes signal him to clear off the bed. Did so, picking up a towel to wipe himself.

* * *

Thirteen-year-old Joey’s sweet ass tingled. Tall Zeb had mentored it well; Li’l Dan, no slouch in height, has sucked his proud four inches. Way better than the Vaseline that high-schooler Larry had passed to him.

Yes, Joey had done what he could with greasy fingers – and that relieved him a couple of times a day – but Larry’s overheard reference to Judge Clarence in a chat with the other big guy, Lew, had keyed his curiosity to the boiling point.

If your hearing was good, you could learn a lot in that hallway. Joey’s was. He did.

Peeking from behind a locker door’s vents, the boy had rubbed at his fly, kept quiet, and learned about blow jobs and butt fucking. Most important, word that the judge’s “civic duty” had been taken over by two also older guys he was dying to meet – Zeb and Dan.

Lew’s boast about “a year with Judge Clarence” intrigued delicately-built Joey, even more when it drifted to, “That saved me from the temptation of girls” which Larry’s wholehearted agreement followed.

By accident, they had spotted two small feet behind an open locker door a short distance away. Their feet took both to see who was spying on them.

“Joey!” Larry spouted, at once noticing the effort to conceal a hard-on. For devilment, he swatted the boy’s hand and gave him a feel. “Kid, you’re getting there.”

Lew closed the gap to feel for himself. “Yeah. Notice, he didn’t pull away,” he snickered to Larry. Enjoyed the kid’s expressions at being played with in a public place – despite there being no one to witness.

“You want some big-boy action, don’t you?”

Joey nodded.

“You’re not going to get it from us,” Lew said, “and I’m not telling you this, understand?” His hand insisted.

Joey nodded, almost ready to blow his spunk.

“Go over to Judge Clarence’s house and ask Zeb to help you. Tell him I said you’re hot to trot and ready to go.”

Larry’s turn to nod, a frown over intent eyes. “Tell anybody else and we’ll rip your dick off.”

That, dear reader, is how Joey became the youngest, fully-serviced boy in Alexia’s history.

* * *

Falconer’s mind rehearsed a pair of lines he had devised for public use. I must dutifully tend to the heritage of Judge Clarence’s fame. May it never be allowed even to flicker.Twice through sufficed.

There, as already-confirmed Zeb abandoned it, was the place for quaintly-called Li’l Dan to meet the next stage in his calling to acolyte-hood. Judge Clarence’s bed awaited. Good augury.

Compliant so far, thoroughly plugged and stimulated, his suppliant appeared willing, if anxious.

“Is your throat ready?” was a question that terrified Li’l Dan. “Answer truthfully.”

Zeb cut in, “His mouth is, Reverend.”

“Listen to me, boy. There are two pathways. Both lie ahead. I will explore your mouth but not journey beyond today, so relax. Kneel on the bed. Not that way. Facing me. On your elbows, come forward. Closer. Open. Wide, boy. Angle forward. Tongue me. Show me some dedication. Take it in. Can’t you go further?”

Those instructions and that question, uttered in an uncommonly soft tone, inspired Li’l Dan. He forgot Zeb’s scrutiny, looked up for a sign of approval with the innocent eyes of an adoptive puppy dog, slurped as best he could, and pushed until his uvula threatened to spasm. Quick thinking told him to withdraw and repeat, withdraw and repeat, withdraw and….

Hands stopped him. “My turn to move,” Falconer said again with what seemed like consideration. “Pleasure and honor reside in my holding you secure.”

Seeing that Li’l Dan was as erect as he was, Zeb smiled proudly and stroked himself.

The Reverend moved his eyes from the rather tepid oral action to Li’l Dan’s backside. Its allure prompted a shove too far. The boy almost retched.

“You’re trying. I appreciate that.”

Zeb, recalling his own throat’s deflowerment as far more dramatic, gaped at the care Falconer was taking – and pumped faster.

Falconer took his time. Something about Li’l Dan’s determined mouth – jaw wide, tongue moving where it could, saliva flowing down chin – granted him patience not ordinarily his. When the boy was turning red in the face, he said, “Your neck’s probably getting tired by now, isn’t it?”

A gurgled nod answered.

Li’l Dan’s head was lifted and pushed away. Falconer freed his own cock and its drool. He flipped the teen chest-up and tugged until his victim’s head lolled back over the side of the bed.

Falconer smacked the boy on his rosy cheeks, “Open.” Obedience let him assume his place. “Going in soon as you take some big breaths.”

“Like he did with me,” Zeb volunteered. “Better take several.”

The hang of large, hairy balls obliterated Li’l Dan’s vision. His mouth accepted its occupation anew but his throat choked around its blatant invasion. The sound was terrible, even to Zeb’s ears. Instead, however, of flailing arms and desperately kicking legs, Li’l Dan’s reflex came lightning fast. He reached up, over his face and grabbed the Reverend’s nut sac for a tug that caused another terrible sound. Farm boys have strong hands.

Falconer folded like a wounded bull.

Scared, Zeb jumped to his reflux-coughing friend’s aid, expecting terrible retribution. Moans from the floor weakened. Falconer sat up aghast and wheezing from the suddenness of the attack. On the verge of blasting something about a transgression of his sacred role, he was flabbergasted by Li’l Dan’s furious accusation.

“That was a transgression!” Li’l Dan practically yelled, stabbing a finger at the Reverend. “You knew my limit! You betrayed my trust in you. You were supposed to fuck me.” Then, with declining force, “Now what?” A moment on, confiding, “He’s the one that needs redemption.”

“Shhh,” Zeb hugged to console while staring at rage on his mentor’s features. He patted Li’l Dan’s plug encouragingly. It mattered that he not lose face, having readied his friend for the fuck of his lifetime. Cogs clicked into place.

Religion to the rescue!

“Let’s pray.” Into Li’l Dan’s nearest ear, he whispered so the Reverend could hear, “Together. I’ll lead.”

He began, “Oh, You in heaven up there, look down on us in this time of need. Steer us back on track. We have strayed. Your representative among us has strayed. Help him to recover…” – Zeb’s eyes stabbed at Falconer’s as he mouthed with evangelical fervor – “…his sense of duty to spread the seeds of his great gift along and throughout his new disciple’s pledged path.”

Remember young Marjoe Gortner at his shrillest tilt?

Zeb’s pause’s effectiveness was underscored by his free hand indicating the big plug in Li’l Dan.

Point. Point. Point.

Falconer got the point. A nod later, he was enfolding his teen attacker ever so tenderly while Zeb let go. “Yes, Lord, I feel my strength returning and I thank Heaven for it and for his boy whose path is so secure…” – he found the plug and rotated it reverently – “…that only I can rise to the occasion by releasing it for service in thy cause’s blessed work.”

A muscular arm firmly around his neck and his Zeb-inserted plug on the move round and round like a corkscrew, Li’l Dan just knew he had to croak Amen, and he did.

“Amen.”

Out with a whoosh (and a loud complaint, “Hey!”), the plug was plucked and thrown to one side. His cock full and alert, the Reverend Abraham Falconer positioned himself. In a proverbial nick of time, he looked for Zeb.

“Lube?”

While Zeb applied KY liberally to what gaped redly, more words resounded as if to a revival congregation. “I collect this boy’s waiting ass as an offering to our ministry ahead – the three of us in unity for the greater good.”

Ready for his moment, Li’l Dan held his breath. In unbearable tension, he begged, “Please.”

The bounty came in the form of an egg-size cockhead against his pucker and a long, gentle, flowing surge that sank into the velvet darkness to stretch every surface and press into every sensitive nerve ending until pubic nest met hairless butt. Old and young rested until the latter’s quivers and protests became vibrations and groans. Acceptance was total.

Interlocked, the two had thoughts that only their union could express. Kisses showered Li’l Dan’s cranium – its hair and skin. The great root stroked back fraction by fraction as if taking stock of where it was and how deep, and relocated itself to paired sighs. Thickness parted the youth as it pulled back to nuzzle the softened crevice. Falconer’s breadth heaved between small intakes of breath until the introductory pace became a rhythm as definite as an old-fashioned locomotive leaving its station. Momentum gathered in passing minutes.

Thoughts slowed their observer’s hand. Zeb rued the favor shown his friend. Jealousy grew. Why is he getting loving treatment? I’m the one who deserves it. My “celestial pipeline” was there first, the Rev said so. He named my butt. It was me he said he’d obtained “spiritual” unification with. Me!

Li’l Dan felt as though the Reverend was pressing up inside of him to drive home some point. I didn’t flinch at the hurt. Didn’t want him to think I couldn’t live up to his expectations. The shifting presence in his innermost recesses reeled out a long line of massage-like thrills throughout his teenage body. Hooked him. A hunger had been born. He was unable to mask his joy.

The room echoed with Falconer’s fast-meted pounding of his devotee’s welcoming flesh – the boy’s eager, undefined responses heard song-like as mixed vowels and consonants. Controlled frenzy transformed congruent bodies into opposing ones.

Li’l Dan heaved himself up to meet Falconer’s thrusts down and deep. Together, they crashed through orgasms and grew languid.

Zeb came at the sight of Falconer salvaging his shrunken cock from Li’l Dan.

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