Rowan's Journey to Manhood

In the previous chapters…

Rowan, a pale guy with many sexual inhibitions due to the abuse he suffered in the past, embarks in a long journey to a mature sexuality, helped by the men and boys living in a big house named “The Cove”. Charlie, a 19 y.o. playful boy, teaches him the joyful side of sex. Barry, an oversexed worker who looks alike Rowan’s abusive stepfather, scares him. Kale, a Hawaiian school counselor, shows him the tender, healing power of love. Beau, the blond leader of the Cove, experiments Rowan’s ‘power’ to block a man’s ejaculation until he begs to cum. Hendrick, the house young cook, lets Rowan discover how sweet and pleasurable can be anal sex when, after many years, the guy yields his ass to the redheaded boy. The wise Native American Wahkan teaches to Rowan how to trust another man and senses that the guy holds a great power in him. Rowan seems to come from another century, and reveals to his friends that his only school had been the old movies showed at Paul’s cinema. He then discovers the pleasure of submission during a hot bondage session with Kale. Rick explains that the Cove is a sort of shelter for all the men and the boys, including Beau. The day after, Beau reveals to Rowan the tragedy he hides in his heart and talks about the young stableman Jordan, his first love, who took his life after being raped by Joe, the black gardener, as per Beau’s father order. One night Beau, masterfully mixing love and dominance, helps Rowan overcome his greatest fears: surrendering to an older man and staying indoors after sunset. Kale’s jealousy explodes. In a restless night, the Hawaiian remembers the French Riviera and Paris, where Beau made him embrace his true nature. In a last, risky attempt to save their love, Beau flies with Kale to Scotland, to Applecross House; there, they rekindle their love, helped by Brennan, a young valet that inspires such a deep affection to Beau that he takes him as his boy. Rowan is offered the unexpected chance to take revenge on his hatred stepfather by giving a furious fuck to Barry, but his satisfaction is short-lived, as he's involved in a terrible accident that temporarily impairs his ability to speak. Through a mind connection, Chayton “meets” Rowan’s Daddy and understands how deeply Rowan craved for his love... and maybe for something else. Making love to Brennan, Rowan fights and wins the fear of having inherited his daddy cruelty. Later, in a pitch-dark room, Rowan has a special “now-or-never moment” with Barry, who talk about his past life as a married man.

Synopsys

In the pitch-dark room, Rowan does an excruciating act of devotion to Barry. In the morning, Beau announces his intention to fully renovate his old house, Rice-Duncan Mansion, and asks for help to the men and boys of the Cove. While visiting the house, Alex and Barry rescue a black homeless and his boy from a gang of homophobic thugs, and then Alex punishes its leader in a way that he will never forget… 

Additional downloads (PDF)

~ Cast of Characters with SFW images
~ The Cove – Floor Plan
~ Book 01 (Chapters 1-10) with bookmarks and PictureBook01 with NSFW images
~ Book 02 (Chapter 11-20) with bookmarks and PictureBook02 with NSFW images
~ Book 03 (Chapter 21-30) with bookmarks and PictureBook03 with NSFW images
~ Book 04 (Chapter 31-37) with bookmarks and PictureBook04 with NSFW images

 ≈ THE PAST RISES FROM ITS ASHES ≈ 

 ~ Darkness ~

After telling to Rowan about his past and his painful arrival at the Cove, Barry stood silent, lying on his bed in the pitch-black darkness of his room. He didn’t expect Rowan to pay him a visit in the middle of the night, and was a bit irritated by his request not to turn on the light, but in the end the darkness had turned that untimely visit into an intimate “now-or-never moment”, where both of them felt free… to talk, sincerely, heart to heart, for the first time since they’d met.

Barry’s feelings toward Rowan were conflicting. He knew how much the guy had suffered in the past, and he really wanted to help him and express his support, but Rowan’s stern refusal to even shake hands with him, his treating him like a sex offender, when he had no other guilt than looking alike his hatred stepfather, made Barry go mad at the guy.

But that night, in the absolute darkness, it was different. Talking to a faceless voice in the dark helped them both to express, for the first time, what they were afraid to say in daytime.

And for the first time Barry also felt the need to voice his apologies for his… impetuous approaches to the guy. It wasn’t easy for Barry to do so, but in that intimate darkness he found the courage to admit his fault: “I understand that with you I’ve been… well… What I mean is… Shit, I’m sorry kid!”

Listening to Barry’s unexpected apologies, Rowan stifled a gasp and rose his gaze to the black void, pointing his eyes to the faceless voice. He tried to say something, but he felt his heart in his throat. Following his instinct, he slowly stood up and, for once, threw at the wind his fears and his caution: that was a ‘now-or-never moment’!

Barry heard the guy moving cautiously in the darkness, getting closer to his bed. And then he felt a warm hand grabbing the bed sheets and slowly pulling them down and away, until his naked body was covered only by the black veil of the darkness.

The same warm, trembling hand touched his right calf, tentatively, and gently moved up along the hairy leg, brushing the knee and landing on his thigh. The hand pressed harder on the muscular leg, moving sideways to the inner thigh, and moving up, up, up, until it rested between the leg and his hefty balls.

The hand lingered for few moments in that intimate recess of his body and then the fingers straightened, reaching behind the heavy nut sac, and gently massaged his perineum, applying an intermittent pressure that made his cock twitch.

Barry felt a second hand diving into the thick layer of hair covering his abdomen. The prying fingers tickled his abs and sneaked up to his pecs, until they curled around his right nipple. He couldn’t stifle a soft moan, feeling those faceless hands assaulting with tender determination his tits and his balls, causing shivers of unexpected pleasure through his spine.

His cock rose to full mast, and he fervently hoped that those hand would take care of it, but the greedy fingers played him like a piano, caressing and titillating all his most sensitive erogenous zones, except his throbbing member.

He refused to plead Rowan to stop torturing him that way and stoically accepted the delicious torment, stifling his moans; but suddenly a chocked scream escaped his lips when, unbelievable as it seemed, he felt the guy’s wet mouth closing around his swollen glans. “Ohhh… Damn, kid! Aaahh… Yeah…” – he moaned loud, while the guy’s hot tongue feasted on the tip of his cock.

Used to always take the lead, Barry moved a hand and placed it on the back of the faceless head bobbing on his cock, to gently force it down to his pubes; but as soon as his palm touched the guy’s hair, Barry heard a frightened gasp, and suddenly the wet mouth and the warm hands were withdrawn from his writhing body.

“No, kid!” – the hairy man hastened to say – “I’m sorry! Don’t go away… Please… I won’t move, I won’t touch you, but please, don’t stop…!”.  It wasn’t just the need for physical pleasure that compelled him to call Rowan back: though in a confused way, being Barry’s simple mind not inclined to delve into the “psychological mumbo-jumbo”, he knew that they both were living a special moment, and he probably had ruined it, grabbing Rowan’s head.

In the total darkness, Barry waited, holding his breath and cursing himself, afraid to see the door open and see Rowan run away. But he felt again a hand tightening around his rigid cock, and then another one playing again with his thick body hair, and a deep sigh escaped his lips.

~ An act of devotion ~

He was expecting another assault to his body, but much to his surprise he felt only the delicate, hesitant touch of Rowan’s tender lips kissing his exposed glans. Just two smooth closed lips reverently pressed against the sensitive tip of his dick. That innocent, incredibly sweet homage to his manhood was for Barry more intense than the most expert deep-throat blowjob. “Oww… kid…” – he moaned, and then suddenly inhaled sharply when he felt the guy’s head rushing down all the way to his pubes, forcing his wide glans through a tight throat.

Unable to see anything, in the total darkness, Barry couldn’t prepare himself to the many exquisite sensations that soon came from his body all at once: he felt hands caressing his inner thighs, fingers rolling his tits, lips closing around his hard member, and more fingers sneaking behind his ball sac into the crack of his ass, fists squeezing the base of his cock, throat muscles trapping his manhood into a wet cage.

“Kid… Oh, kid… You’re unbelievable…” – Barry said with chocked voice. Even the guy’s long hair lightly caressing his lower abdomen were amazingly arousing. Barry gripped hard the headboard, forcing himself not to touch the guy, as promised; but it took him all his willpower to repress his own dominant nature and yield to the guy the total control.

Lost in a delirium of pleasure, he felt his man juice boiling in his swollen balls; his heart started thumping harder and his whole body stiffened, preparing for the oncoming explosion… that didn’t happen. Rowan, sensing Barry’s tension, suddenly stopped titillating the hairy body and raised his head, holding tight the base of the cock, preventing the impending ejaculation. Barry groaned and, this time, couldn’t help but plead: “Nnngghh… No, kid… don’t do this… finish me off… Please, cont… AAAH!”

Barry let out a yell when he felt the guy’s stiff tongue-tip flickering madly over the back of his glans, at his frenulum. After being wildly stimulated all over his entire body, now the only friction was concentrated on his most sensitive spot alone. He felt  like an electric surge radiating from his cock throughout his entire body, reaching his reeling mind and then rushing back to his tightened balls.

“AAAAAGGHH!!!” – the man screamed loud, totally swept away by Rowan’s ability to hold him a moment before his orgasm and then suddenly push him with even greater force over the edge. He felt a powerful shot of manly cream shooting from his cock, and in that very moment the guy’s mouth closed again around his cock, pumping hard up and down, forcefully milking it and sending Barry through the roof.

The strong man held the headboard so tight that the wooden structure squeaked under the pressure. His hips bucked hard on the mattress, while Rowan’s greedy mouth sucked and slurped his man juice, gulp after gulp, to the last drops. The visual deprivation and the impossibility to use his hands made his orgasm sweep his body and mind like a powerful tidal wave.

As the orgasm subsided, Barry relaxed on the bed, now drenched with sweat, panting heavily. He looked at the darkness, trying in vain to see Rowan’s face. He didn’t know what to say, but he had to say something, to let Rowan know how much he’d appreciated his unexpected nightly visit and the even more unexpected pleasure he’d given to him. But he couldn’t say a single word, because all of the sudden the door broke open and Beau’s tall figure appeared in the doorframe. “What happened, Barry?! I heard a scream!”

The sudden light coming from the corridor flowed into the room; Rowan looked at Barry, and the loving expression on his face immediately turned to fear. He gasped “Daddy! No!”, stood up and ran away in a flash, bumping into Beau while sneaking out of the door.

Barry followed him with his eyes, feeling like the guy had slapped him hard on his face. He had hoped that finally he and Rowan could… But the “now-or-never moment” had abruptly ended. Sweet and intimate as the “now” part was, they were back to the “never” zone…

Beau stepped into the room, alarmed: “Barry! What have you done to Rowan?!”

Barry’s anger, fired up by the dismay of seeing Rowan run away and Beau’s evident lack of trust, flared. “Fuck you, man! I didn’t fuckin’ do anything to the fuckin’ boy! Goddammit! Don’t you and Kale have any fuckin’ trust in me?!”. Beau realized that he had jumped to the wrong conclusion too quickly and immediately softened his tone: “I’m sorry, man… I didn’t mean…”.

He sat on the side of the bed and looked down at Barry: “I do trust you, you know it. Forgive me. I was just surprised when I saw Rowan in your room, in the middle of the night…”.  “Don’t tell me!” – Barry replied, wide-eyed – “I’m more surprised than you…!”

“Well, let’s go back to sleep” – Beau said standing up – “See you tomorrow morning at breakfast. I have to talk to you. And Rowan”.  He turned around and went away, closing the door behind him and letting the darkness hide Barry’s puzzled expression.

~ A big project ~

The next morning, while the entire Cove was having breakfast in the dining room, Beau rose his gaze with a sparkle in his eyes and captured everyone’s attention when he said: “Gentlemen, there’s something I want to share with you. A project that is very important for me…”

“You surely remember the day old Paul, the owner of the cinema at the mall, died [1]. When I came back home, I revealed you my deepest secrets, I shared with you my fondest and most painful memories: my deep love for Jordan and my shattering pain for his tragic loss [2].”

“That day, with your help, I buried my past. But from the ashes of those sad memories rose an idea, a project that will help me reconcile my past and my future. I want to reopen Rice-Duncan Mansion, I want it to be again as beautiful and splendid as it used to be. And when done, it won’t be any more Rice-Duncan Mansion, it will be Maison de la Motte, and its walls won’t resonate any more with screams and sighs of grief like in the past, but with joyful laughs and sighs of love. I owe it to Jordan, and I owe it to me.”

“I will need the help of some of you, because it’s a huge and difficult job. The house has been closed and abandoned for almost twenty years. The wiring and the plumbing must be replaced, the walls must be painted, the wooden floors and the furniture must be restored and god knows what else. Of course, I’ve already called an architect and a team of workers to execute the project, but I need you all, too.”

Beau turned to Barry: “You made wonders with the Cove, when you renovated it, and I hope you will give directions to the construction company to let them reach the expected level of quality. Your attention to details, your knowledge and experience will be invaluable for this project”.

“And I need you, Rowan” – he said turning to the pale guy – “to give directions to the architect. He knows his job, but lacks your deep knowledge about old mansions, your sensibility, your ability to ‘feel’ the house. When I first told you about this idea, you asked me if we could plant not one, but twelve oaks. I didn’t miss the reference to ‘Gone with the Wind’; I really hope you will be able to turn that austere mansion into an elegant and joyful place like the Twelve Oaks. Except the tall columns and the whole Antebellum style, that is!”

Rowan giggled and exchanged a knowing smile with Beau, who turned to Brennan: “And you, young man, have to give your help, too!”.  “Me?!” – the boy exclaimed, surprised to be called upon. “Yes, why not? You have been raised in Applecross House, you know the needs of the personnel and how such a house should be run. We can’t expect a young architect, clever as he is, to know and understand the needs of a gentleman, or to know how the valets, the chauffeur and the butler are supposed to do their jobs. And you’ll be in charge of selecting the personnel, when the renovation is done”.

“As for you…” – Beau said, pointing at Rick and Charlie – “you’ll be in charge of the renovation of the kitchen, the laundry and the storage areas, expert as you are about taking care, like you wonderfully do here, of a hoard of demanding and unruly men. The cook and the waiters will thank you, Hendrick, for setting up a functional kitchen; and the housekeeper and maids will thank you, Charlie, for what you’ll do to ease their jobs, by strategically placing storage areas and linen cupboards where they are actually needed.”

“And, last but not least, Alex and Stewart will set up a security system. The house has been abandoned for too many years, and I suspect that homeless and punks have frequently roamed the gardens and the stable. We can’t let this happen any more”.

“Are you all in?” – Beau asked looking around the room, with a hopeful expression on his face. Everyone in the room looked excited for the project and for the task Beau had assigned them. Well, almost everyone.

Wahkan and Chayton exchanged a silent glance, realizing that they had not been asked to join the project. Kale, with his sensitive antennae, intervened, addressing the two Native Americans: “Please believe that there is no personal reason for Beau to keep you out of this project. You surely know how important is for a man to cling to his culture, his heritage. This project is Beau’s effort to reassert his own culture and heritage, that is so different than yours… or mine. I myself wouldn’t know even where to start, when it comes to ballrooms, butlers, valets and the like…”

Wahkan smiled respectfully, understanding that they couldn’t possibly give any help to Beau and his big project. “It’s settled then!” – Beau exclaimed, excited and happy as a child – “In the afternoon we all will go to Rice-Duncan Mansion to meet the architect and do a first exploration of the site”. He turned to Rowan and added: “Well, a second exploration, for someone…”

The breakfast was over, and everyone moved excited to their rooms or the lounge, except for Kale. He moved closer to Beau and said: “I wish I could have a part in this project, I feel useless…”.

Beau looked straight at him and his smile gave way to a tense expression: “But you have the most difficult task, buddy. The house doesn’t need you, but I do. It will be hard for me, and I will need you more than ever…”. Kale sighed, drowning into Beau’s deep blue eyes and held him in a long, tight embrace.

~ A homeless man and his boy ~

Beau was right about the suspect that homeless and punks had roamed his property during the long years of his abandonment. As a matter of fact, in the very moment the men of the Cove were having breakfast and planning the house renovation, a tall, muscular black man named Jorell was stirring in the old stable, lying in the hay.

He was naked, except for a pair of loose worn-out shorts. His chest was massive, muscular, covered with a sparse layer of curled hair. His impressive pecs bulged out at every breath, and the almost black areolas of his nipples stood out on the very dark brown skin.

Jorell opened his eyes and looked around, like every morning of the last few years, since he’d elected that abandoned stable as his home, and felt a pang of pain in his heart.

He was alone. “LaShawn!”, he called out, suddenly worried. The stable door squeaked and a black guy in his early twenties rushed in. “I’m here, sir, I just went to the water pump to get cleaned and dressed”.  “And you call that being ‘dressed’?” – the man said, nervously, standing up and looking at the young man in front of him.

He was lean but muscular, with wide shoulders and long sinewy legs; his bronze skin with chocolate-coloured reflections looked silky and smooth; two big, gentle, light-brown eyes shone in his tall face, crowned by straight black hair held upright by a large amount of hair-styling gel.

He was wearing a brightly coloured tight T-shirt cut so high it barely covered his defined pecs, leaving exposed his chiseled 6-pack abs. The white low-rise stretch pants couldn’t entirely cover the black bush of pubic hair surrounding his crotch; the elastic fabric was so tight that his notable bulge and the perfect mounds of his ass were perfectly outlined. The short pant legs were rolled up just below the knees, highlighting his hairless bronze calves and the bright white high-top shoes he was wearing on his feet.

“Kid, you are a sight…” – Jorell murmured, mellowing his tone. “You’re so sexy that it hurts… and you know it’s not just a figure of speech. But I’m not saying so for my own sake, I’m worried about your safety. I told you a million times that being black and openly gay will only lead to troubles. Can’t you sometimes dress in less… flamboyant clothes?”

LaShawn moved closer and said: “I, too, asked you a million times to give up on your… dress code, sir”. He started to caress his master’s wide chest, playing with the curly hair and slowly moving his hand down, to the man’s bulge.

Jorell moaned and closed his eyes, but when the boy’s hand reached to his groin, he suddenly stepped back: “Why do you want to torture me… You know I can’t give you what you want…”

The boy insisted, reaching to the man’s nipples and gently rolling it in his hands: “Please, sir… I, too, am not asking this for my own sake… You can’t go on punishing yourself like this…”.  He knelt down and pulled the man’s shorts to his feet.

Underneath, the man was wearing a sort of tight pouch made of thin strings hand-knotted to form a net. It was secured to his body by means of long strings cinching his waist and ass like a jockstrap. With a pang of pain, the boy spotted, inside the pouch, an impressive cock, forcefully held down and compressed into the tight confinement.

LaShawn moved his mouth closer to the trapped meat, without touching it, and said: “Such a big, proud manhood shouldn’t stay imprisoned like this, sir… It can give me and you a great pleasure… Let me set it free! Let me take away this... torturous underwear!”

The man felt the boy’s hot breath on his restrained manhood and groaned, feeling it painfully stir and swell inside the narrow space. His groin ached for the pressure of the manly juice that had gone building up for weeks. “Sir...” – LaShawn insisted, reverently placing his cheek on the throbbing bulge – “give it to me... I need it bad, sir... and you do, too... Whatever your guilt, haven’t you punished yourself enough?”

~ Crime and Punishment ~

 “NO!” – Jorell shouted – “You know nothing, kid! Don’t you dare tell me what I should do!”.  LaShawn winced and recoiled, realizing he’d stepped way out of line: “I’m sorry, sir... I shouldn’t have...”

“Nnnggh.. Shit! It hurts so bad...!” – the man moaned, and suddenly he fell on all fours, at eye level with his boy. “Look at what you have done, boy! I badly need some relief… Come on! You know what to do...”

The boy shook his head, frowning: “Don’t let me do it, sir... Please, it’s too hard for me!”.  Jorell flashed him a killing glance: “Shut the fuck up and do it!!”

LaShawn stood up and stripped naked. He turned around his kneeling master and positioned himself behind his exposed butt, massaging his own cock until it was fully hard. The man turned his head to look at the boy: “And don’t you dare to spit on your cock! Spear my ass with your weapon, boy! Split me open! AAAAARRGGHHH!!”

The scream echoed into the old empty barn, when the young guy shoved his good eight inches of hard black meat into the man’s unprepared hole, all at once. He didn’t stop a single moment and started pounding hard the black ass reaching deep into the tender canal and mercilessly battering the man’s prostate.

“Harder! Harder!” – Jorell screamed – “Pound on my juice nut! Fuck the cum out of me!”

LaShawn kept fucking his master for a while, with powerful thrusts, and each time his cock brushed past the man’s prostate, a burp of semen dripped out of his trapped manhood. “Go on, kid! Almost there... Please kid... Aaahhh! Please, let me cum! I can’t stand it any more!”

The boy reached down with one hand to the master’s imprisoned cock and started rubbing it gently, almost scared by the pressure he felt on the knitted rope net. “NO! No hands! I said no hands, boy! I... aaahh... AAAGGHHH!!”

Jorell bowed his head, arching his ass up, and the boy felt on his cock the tremendous exertion of the man’s prostate, trying to shoot the pent-up semen through the long trapped meat. As a dribble of sperm started dripping from the mesh underwear, pooling on the ground, the man raised his head and looked at the austere house out of the open stable door. His eyes filled with tears and said: “You didn’t cum... You didn’t cum...”

LaShawn, with great difficulty, brought himself to an unsatisfying orgasm, thinking that his master wanted to be even more humiliated, by having his ass flooded with his boy’s semen. But Jorell didn’t even feel the hot boy juice slowly filling his ass. He closed his teary eyes and murmured: “I didn’t make you cum...”

~ Beau’s most painful step ~

Jorell stood up and said: “Clean up everything and get dressed, we have to go out to find something for you to eat” – and then went to the water pump to wash himself. LaShawn carefully tidied up the place, knowing that his master didn’t want to leave any trace of their staying there. He hated Jorell for forcing him into those violent, hideous fucks… How wonderful would it be if the man finally could release that monster cock of his and shove it up his ass! The boy didn’t like the ‘top’ role he was forced to have, he dreamed to be fucked by his master, but it never happened in years.

And yet, LaShawn deeply loved his master, and knew that he would do anything for his boy; he didn’t miss the phrase “…to find something for you to eat”: he would even starve for his boy!

Everything was ready when Jorell came back, wearing his usual dirty black jeans and a faded tank-top with a Union Jack printed on it. “OK, let’s go!” – he ordered, leading the way to the broken section of the surrounding wall that they used to intrude into the property. They quickly reached the main street and didn’t notice the big green Bentley arriving at Rice-Duncan Mansion from the opposite side.

Inside, there where Beau and Kale, who were a bit early for their meeting with the architect and the other men of the Cove, for the preliminary inspection of the site. They parked in front of the house and stepped out of the car. Kale noticed that Beau was looking around, but carefully avoiding to look toward the old stable.

Kale had never been there before, but knew well the story of Jordan and his tragic suicide. The Hawaiian cinched his lover’s waist with an arm and gently forced him to turn to the rickety wooden structure: “It happened there, didn’t it?”.  Beau frowned, lowered his eyes and nodded silently.

“Come” – Kale said, taking Beau by hand and leading him to the stable. “No, buddy… I can’t…” – Beau pleaded, but the counselor dragged him with firm kindness to the barn door. He turned to the blond man and looked deeply into his eyes. “You owe it to Jordan” – the counselor said – “Enter the stable and honour the place where he died. Mourn his death and then let him go. You deserve to find peace just as much as him”.

With trembling steps, Beau entered the old wooden building. Everything was like he remembered, the boxes for the horses, the wound-up ropes hung to the wall, the hay scattered on the floor... He rose his eyes to the main beam of the roof… and he sank on his knees, while a desperate sound escaped his throat: “No… God no...!”. Kale followed his gaze and saw a short stretch of rope still hanging from the wooden beam. They had apparently cut the rope the morning they’d found Jordan, but no one ever removed the upper knot.

Beau was sobbing, down on his knees, his head bowed and his hands joined between his legs. Kale knelt in front of him and lovingly held his head against his chest, giving him all the time he needed to let everything out and cry all the tears he had to cry.

When Beau could stand again, he looked around, at the place where he and Jordan had made love the first time and he felt something change in his heart: Jordan was dead, but he had lived, and he had shared with Beau a too short, but intense part of his life. So far, the grief for Jordan’s premature death had darkened the fond memories he had of their love, but now Beau realized that their love was a seed that had sprouted in his heart and had made him the man he was, the man who could find and love Kale, create the Cove, give protection to his buddies and welcome Brennan in his life.

He turned to Kale and the counselor saw the new sparkle in his lover’s eyes. Beau held him in a tender embrace and said: “I told you that you had the most difficult task. I’m so lucky to have you by my side. Thank you, buddy…!”

They went back to the car just in time to see the other men arriving. Beau introduced the architect to everyone and gave the house keys to Rowan. “I’m going back home” – he said, and the guy was not surprised: Beau’s memories and his difficult relationship with the old house would have been misleading to the project.

“I rely on your judgment” – Beau continued – “Just two things: first, take away all the furniture from my old bedroom and my father’s; and second, the old stable…”.  Rowan put a hand over Beau’s mouth: “Let everything to me”.  Beau smiled, then waved goodbye to everyone and went away with Kale.

~ Homophobia ~

“Run!” – Jorell yelled to LaShawn when he saw the three thugs coming toward them with a menacing look, wielding their baseball bats. “Yeah, run!” – echoed the thugs, laughing, chasing them – “Run, faggots! We don’t want faggots in our town!”

LaShawn ran as fast as he could, immediately followed by Jorell. They were faster than their pursuers and after a while they could outdistance the thugs.  They quickly went back to Rice-Duncan Mansion, crossed the broken section of the wall and headed to the barn.

LaShawn halted abruptly, seeing many cars and trucks parked in front of the house, but Jorell urged him: “Let’s hide in the barn! They won’t find us!”.  They sneaked into the old wooden building, closed the door and hid into the most secluded horse box.

“I’m so sorry, sir!” – LaShawn whined, scared – “I shouldn’t have dressed this way, you warned me, but I…”.  “SSSHH!!” – the man silenced him – “They’re here! They’ve found us!”

The big wooden door crashed open, and the three thugs stepped in. “You can’t get away, faggots!” – the taller of the three shouted – “We’ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget!”

LaShawn felt guilty: it was his fault if they were in that situation! He realized that there was no hope to stay hidden into the small horse box and suddenly ran out to face the thugs, in a desperate attempt to protect his master. He tried to bump away one of the thugs, but he was soon immobilized by the three of them.

Jorell looked around the small box and found an old spade under the hay. He rushed out and hit the guy holding LaShawn on his head. The boy was suddenly free and Jorell shouted “RUN!!”. Without thinking twice, the boy ran to the door, but when he was in the doorway he turned around, and saw all the three thugs attacking Jorell, punching him hard and hitting him with their baseball bats.

LaShawn knew he couldn’t do anything by himself, so he turned around and ran towards the car parked nearby. There was no one in sight, but the house front door was open and he rushed inside, screaming desperately: “Help!! Help!! They’re killing him!!”

There was a sudden sound of steps down the stairs and Barry, Alex and Rowan appeared in the ample entrance hall. LaShawn, with his face streaked with tears,  pointed his finger to the stable and repeated with broken voice: “They’re killing him!!”

They all ran to the stable and gasped, seeing a tall, muscular black man on the ground, apparently lifeless, and the three thugs kicking him ferociously with their heavy boots.

“Motherfuckers!” – Barry yelled, and the three punks turned around to face the men. In a moment, the stable became the scene of a harsh fight; the thugs were armed with their baseball bats, but they could do very little against Alex’ and Barry’s furious fists and Rowan’s blazing legs. Few moments were enough for the punks to understand that their only option to survive and escape an arrest was a hasty retreat.

Two of them could reach the door and flee, but Alex, with a quick move, blocked the taller one, apparently their leader. “Not so fast, kid!” – the guard growled, locking the guy’s neck in his muscular arm, and then turned to Barry: “Tie him up using the rope hanging from the wall!”

“Sir! Sir! Wake up!” – LaShawn screamed, kneeling beside the wounded man. While Barry tied up the prisoner, the guard leaned over the man and checked him briefly: “He’s alive, but he needs a doctor. Let’s bring him to the hospital”.  “No…” – Jorell murmured, opening his eyes – “Not… the… hospital!”

Alex grunted, but LaShawn looked at him with pleading eyes, shaking his head. “OK, no hospital… for now. Let’s bring him inside”. They brought him bodily into the house, and up to the second floor, pulling the tall thug behind them, tied to a long rope like a head of cattle; Rowan led the way to Beau’s old room and the men placed Jorell on the small bed, while Stewart dragged the thug to an adjacent room and secured him to an old cast iron heater.

~ A suspicious phone call ~

Barry took his phone and quickly dialed a number stored in memory: “Hey doc, it’s me” – he said at the phone – “I need you… No, not for that, fuck you man!” – he chuckled – “No, seriously, there’s a wounded man here, he’s been assaulted by three thugs… No, he refuses to go to the hospital… Come on, doc, do it for me… OK, thanks! It’s the big isolated mansion in the northern outskirts of the town, along the main road… Yeah, Rice-Duncan Mansion. Quick!”

He shut the phone and realized that Alex was looking at him inquisitively: “Who have you called?”.  “You know him, it’s doc Jade, the one who cured Rowan at the hospital” [3].  “You seem quite… intimate with him” – the guard inquired, implicitly referring to the strict rule they all followed to never have sex outside of the Cove.

“That’s none of your business!” – Barry replied, annoyed, and turned away. Alex moved closer to the wounded man and looked at the boy sitting on the bedside, holding the man’s hand. “What’s your name, kid?” – he inquired. “LaShawn, sir. And he’s Jorell”.  “Is he your father?”  “No, sir, I’m his… uhm… boy. I mean…”  “I know what that means, kid” – Alex said, with a mellower tone.

“And what are you doing here? This is private property, you know?” – the guard asked. LaShawn seemed on the brink of an emotional breakdown, but desperately tried to hold himself and said with trembling voice: “Sir, save him! I don’t care to go to jail if you save him!”

Alex was moved by the boy’s devotion to his master and replied in a soothing tone: “The doctor is coming. And you won’t go to jail.”

In that moment Jorell opened his eyes, looked at LaShawn sitting near him and smiled, seeing him unharmed. Then he looked around at the men surrounding him and he frowned, worried, but LaShawn told him: “The doctor will soon be there. We won’t be arrested, don’t worry. These men saved you”.

Jorell seemed relieved, but suddenly opened wide his eyes and looked around at the walls, then at the bed where he was lying and the furniture in the small room. “Oh god…” – he murmured, while his eyes filled with tears – “Oh god…”. He tried to get out of the bed but Alex intervened: “You’re not in condition to move”.  “But you don’t understand…” – Jorell insisted, trying again to move, but the guard gently forced him down again.

LaShawn looked at the man with a puzzled expression and said: “I don’t understand, either, sir…”.  But Jorell closed his eyes and turned his head away, maintaining a stubborn silence. He lay down motionless, but the boy could swear he was stifling heartfelt sobs.

~ Doctor’s orders ~

There was a screech of tires outside, and in few moments Doc Jade rushed in the small room, bringing an emergency kit. “OK, now I need everybody to wait outside, while I check him. I need one of you to fill me the details about what happened”.

All the men and the boys, except LaShawn, stepped outside and stood for a while in the corridor, until the door opened and Doc Jade came out. He turned to Barry and said: “He’s in surprisingly good conditions, considered what happened to him. Thanks to his massive muscular tone, he has no broken bones or damaged organs. He was hit hard on his head and I’d like him to go to the hospital, but he sternly refuses to do so”.

“I bandaged his head and locked his right arm into a sling. You should bring him at your place and let him rest for at least three days, better a week. If he experiences dizziness or has problems talking or moving, call me immediately”.

“Thank you, doc” – Barry replied – “I really appreciated your coming here in such a rush. If there’s something I can do…”.  Jade gave to Barry a blatantly lustful glance and played with the tuft of black hair peeking out of the neckline of his tank, breathing: “You know what you can do…”.  “Fuck you, man!” – Barry laughed – “Be careful what you wish!”. Again, Alex glanced at Barry with suspicion, but stood silent.

The doctor went away and Barry looked around to his buddies: “OK, guys, you heard the doctor’s orders! We’ll finish our inspection another day, now let’s bring the man to the Cove…”.

“You go ahead” – Alex said to Barry, pointing his thumb to the room where the thug was waiting for his fate – “I have some unfinished business here…”.  Barry flashed a steely glance to the closed door and replied to the guard: “That filthy piece of shit! Punish him hard!”. “I will. Harder than you imagine…” – Alex concluded, opening the door.

~ Exemplary punishment ~

“I heard you!” – the thug hissed when Alex stood towering over him – “Do you want to beat me to pulp? Then go ahead, asshole, you don’t scare me!”

“Beat you?” – Alex mused – “No, no, nothing like that…”. The guard pulled the guy on his feet, dragged him to a heavy iron chair lying in a corner and forced him down on it. He took the handcuffs that he always brought with him and locked the guy’s wrists to the back of the chair; then removed the rope that was immobilizing him and tossed it away.

Without a word, Alex grasped the guy’s dirty white tank top and, with a sharp tug, torn him apart, revealing his lean torso covered with tattoos. “Hey! Motherfucker! Leave me alone!” – the thug yelled, and Alex, with a lustful smirk, replied: “You can scream all you want, no one can hear you…”

The guard lowered his hands to the guy’s jeans, opened the fly and tore it away, along with the shoes. When the bulky man roughly pulled away the guy’s underwear, leaving him naked except for the torn tank hanging from his shoulders, he said with a chocked voice: “You are a fuckin’ faggot, too! Now you’re going to fuck me in the ass, I know what you perverts do to straight guys like me!”

“Me, fucking you? You think pretty highly of yourself…” – Alex replied calmly – “You’re not a great fuck, you know? Not at all. Look at you, thin, pale, with all those ugly tattoos… I wouldn’t fuck you even if they paid me big bucks! No, I’m not going lay a finger on you. Honest! I’m not a punk like you, I act by the book. Trust me, I won’t touch you”.

“Then, what the fuck you want from me?” – the guy said, defiantly but with a puzzled tone. “Just doing a little experiment…” – Alex mused – “Tell me: why you hate the guy you attacked?”.  “Because he’s a filthy faggot, a pervert! He and those like him disgust me!”

Alex shook his head. “They say that homophobia comes from a latent homosexuality. You felt attracted by that tall, muscular black man and you hated yourself for that… and you reacted attacking him! Did I guess at it?”

“Fuck you, man!” – the thug hissed angrily – “I’m no faggot like you!”.  “OK, if you say so… Then, here’s the deal: if I can’t make you hard, without touching you, then you’re free to go. Agreed?”.  The guy nodded, as bold as brass: “You can let me go right now, then. No way you can make me hard!”

Alex regretted not to wear his uniform, his secret weapon, but he began his show nevertheless. Looking straight at the guy, he started undoing the buttons of his tight blue shirt, slowly revealing the sparkling white tank top underneath. Slowly, with confident moves, without ever averting his gaze, he pulled the shirt out of his pants and shrugged it from his shoulders. The white tank top was so tight that his massive torso was clearly outlined under the thin fabric. His dense body hair peeked out of the neckline.

The guy adjusted on the chair, restless, but his cock stayed limp. Alex seductively pulled up the tank, inch by inch, slowly revealing his sculpted abs covered by a dark treasure trail, and then his bulging pecs, covered with a thick layer of black hair. He tossed the tank away, still looking straight at the guy, and started playing with his own nipples, moaning softly and tilting his hips. A twitch in the guy’s cock caught his eye, and his lustful smirk grew wider.

~ The thug loses his bet ~

The bulky guard unbuckled his belt and tore it away. He stood still for a moment, in a manly pose, holding the belt with one hand and massaging his bulge with the other. Another twitch in the guy’s cock, that started thickening. Alex unbuttoned his pants and slowly stepped out of them, making his bulge shift from side to side inside the white briefs.

He got closer to the guy and took a rough handful of his own manhood, gasping hard. The guy’s breath became heavier. Alex slipped his fingers inside the waistband of his briefs and gave his signature glance full of pure lust to the guy, who was mesmerized. Then, abruptly, he shoved the briefs down, making his semi-hard veiny cock and his hefty balls bounce free.

The guy inhaled sharply and his cock instantly rose to a full, shameful erection. Technically, he had lost his bet, but Alex wanted more. He had promised to Barry that the guy would have been punished hard, and Alex was not a man who makes void promises.

The man caressed his own chest, digging his fingers into the thick body hair, squeezing his pecs and rolling his nipples with his fingers, while, with the other hand, he started jacking off in front of the wide-eyed guy. 

He moved closer and closer, while the guy’s breath became labored. Taking a great care in not touching the seated guy, Alex straddled him and wanked his huge meat at a few inches from his face. “Aahh... Fuck yeah…” – he moaned, tilting sensually his hips and working intensely on his cock and tits.

“A… A… Are you going to… cum on my face…?” – the thug stuttered, trying to sound scared, but betraying his desire.  “Of course not, kid. I promised not to touch you”. The guy nodded briefly, and again his expression was more of dismay than of relief.

He just couldn’t tear his gaze away from that huge cock in front of him, the strong hand moving back and forth, the huge glans rhythmically coming out from the long foreskin and then hiding back into his velvety lair, the heavy balls swinging back and forth following the hypnotic motion of the hand. His nostrils were intoxicated by the pungent manly smell, his cock throbbed for the tension and his head was spinning. Without even realizing it, the guy moved his head forward, parting his lips and sticking his tongue out, and he was at an inch from the hot meat when Alex recoiled a bit.

The guy looked up at him with pleading eyes, and Alex said resolutely: “I promised not to touch you”.  “Please…” – the punk breathed, sticking out his tongue again, but Alex recoiled some more. “What you want me to do, kid?” – the guard asked. The guy looked plaintively at him, briefly shaking his head, as if to say ‘Please, don’t make me beg for it!’, but Alex was adamant: “You have to ask for it, kid, clear and loud…”

The thug looked at the hefty cock, licked his lips, gulped dry and said, with trembling voice but clearly enough for Alex to smile inwardly: “Please sir… Let me suck your cock…”

“Then move your head back, I don’t want to forcefully shove my cock into your mouth, I want you to come and suck me, if you really want it”.  The guy did as requested, and Alex placed his cock at an inch to his lips. “Go for it, kid, and enjoy” – Alex said in a tone that was more affectionate than  mocking.

The guy opened his mouth wide, hesitated for a moment and then engulfed the wide glans; he licked and lapped it with his tongue, feeling for the first time the taste of a man, and then started moving tentatively his head back and forth, looking up at Alex in search of a confirmation he was doing it well. “This is not about me, kid” – Alex said in a low, almost loving tone – “this is about you… Do what you feel, what gives you more pleasure…”

Though with his arms locked behind his back, the guy strained his neck to take all he could take of Alex’ cock, hungrily, uncaring of the gag reflex, pursing hard his lips on the rigid shaft when pulling back. After a while, he let go of the cock and stuck out his tongue, straining to reach the man’s balls. Alex eased his task moving a little closer, so to let the guy to take a whole mouthful of his swollen nuts.

From the closed eyes of the guy dripped a tear, when he could dive his face into those big, rugged, hairy gonads. His lips and his tongue feasted on them, rolling the balls from side to side and bathing them with his saliva. Then he moved back to the cock and shoved his head toward the pubes, desperately trying over and over to take it all, until he finally succeeded. He almost chocked on it, and had a hard time to control the gag reflex, but he kept his nose firmly planted on Alex’ pubes, while tears flowed profusely down his cheeks.

The strenuous effort of the punk and the intense massage on his cock brought Alex to the limit: “Kid, I can’t hold… You don’t have to drink my juice, you know…”.  But the guy shook his head and recoiled a bit, so to hold the throbbing glans on his tongue. He raised his teary eyes to Alex and flicked madly his wet tongue over the trapped organ, until he felt it grow harder and wider and heard the man’s chocked roar “AAAARRGGHHH!!” and a viscous, creamy fluid with an unknown bitter-salty taste slowly filled his mouth. The guy closed his eyes and felt he was in another world, where the only important thing was the big, savory cock pulsing in his mouth.

Alex, straddling the sitting guy, was moving his hips back and forth, spurting rope after rope of man juice into the wet hungry mouth, when unexpectedly he felt hot shots of semen wetting his ass and inner thighs: the guy, overwhelmed by the incredibly erotic new experience he was living, had lost control and his untouched cock was shooting all the sperm his young balls could give.

~ A straight faggot ~

Slowly, both cocks stopped throbbing and Alex stepped back. The guy was standing still, panting, with his head bowed. His shoulders had a wince, then another… and the guy started sobbing quietly, his tears dripping on his belly. “I’m a faggot… I’m a faggot…!” – he whined, with broken voice. He rose his gaze to Alex and repeated to him, with a desperate expression, crying without restraints: “I’m a fuckin’ faggot…”

That was the hard punishment Alex had in mind since the beginning: forcing the guy to face his hidden homosexual pulses. He knew that for the guy that would have been more painful than any beating. But he didn’t know enough about him to know what his real sexual inclinations were. And frankly, he couldn’t stand the distraught and heartbreaking glance the guy was giving him…

“No, you’re not.” – Alex said, and the guy widened his eyes, hoping that the man could magically prove that, after all, he was not a faggot. “Not necessarily, anyway.” – Alex added – “The problem is that word that you like to repeat, like a mantra: faggot, faggot… You see, even the straightest men in the world sometimes feel attracted to another man: it may be the sudden need to glance at a guy’s cock in the communal shower, or admire the straining pecs of a gym buddy, or casually touch a muscular naked thigh at the beach. Sometimes, in the right conditions, they can even have sex with a male friend, or neighbor, or fellow soldier, still remaining perfectly straight men”.

“Every straight man is a bit of a faggot, down inside… and there’s nothing wrong with it” – Alex concluded – “Explore, do what you feel, like you did tonight. You shouldn’t be scared of what you feel. And neither should your two friends: they probably feel attracted by you, you know? You’re dominant, self-assured, and they, maybe… who knows?”

The guy was visibly concentrating to grasp the full meaning of what Alex had just said. Then, suddenly, he snapped out of his thoughts and asked: “Are you going to send me to jail?”.  Alex turned around him and unlocked the handcuffs. “No, you’re free to go. But look at me…” – he said, keeping him at arm’s length and staring into his eyes – “You’re much more than a stupid punk going around with a baseball bat attacking gay men, or black people, or anyone else. Tell me you won’t do it any more.”

The guy didn’t falter: “I won’t”.  “Sorry for the tank, kid” – Alex said, picking up his own from the floor – “Here, take mine”.  The guy took the tank from Alex’ hands and put it on, pressed his hands on the fabric, to feel it on his skin… and his cock had a visible twitch. “Shit…” – he murmured looking down, wearing an uncertain smile.

“Oh, by the way, I’m Alex” – the guard said putting out his hand. “Derek” – said the guy shaking it, uneasy for the incongruous introduction after… what had happened. Alex took a business card from his pants on the floor: “…and this is my number. You will call me if you need… to talk, won’t you?”. Derek nodded and picked up his clothes from the floor. When he got dressed, he looked at Alex, uncertain about what to say, and decided to say nothing. He nodded a goodbye and silently went away.

Alex quickly put his clothes on, anxious to go back home, to the Cove, the peaceful, quiet, cozy Cove.

Little he knew that the Cove, in that very moment, was anything but a peaceful, quiet or cozy place. Quite the opposite, as a matter of fact, as another powerful, destructive tidal wave had just broken into the cove, in the guise of a wounded black man, whose heart held an unspeakable secret…

Footnotes and references:
[1] See Chapter 24, ~ The Sunday matinée ~
[2] See Chapter 22, ~ Innocent love ~ and following
[3] See Chapter 34, ~ Brain damage ~

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(End of Chapter 37 – Please proceed to Chapter 38)