"Midnight and Beyond>>>

Even though I had termed them “midnight rendezvous,” they were more often in the middle of the day. My clandestine meetings, actually, could happen at any time because of the privacy allowed by the trees and bushes. Anyway, wow that seemed to take forever to get completed, it was not about the place but about what went on there.

I told this jock (freak, geek, whatever) to meet me at the old doughnut shop on the south side of the street. I did that to ensure he was truthfully going to show. I watched from the old white building across the street in the park. I don’t think I was ever disappointed in having one of the boys not come to meet me. Once I was sure he was there alone, and why would he bring someone with him, I would cross the street and get his attention without getting too close. I knew the guys would appreciate that, as it was just one other way they could be able to deny having anything to do with me. I stayed far enough ahead of them so as to give them plausible deniability but close enough to make sure they knew where I was going. As soon as I entered the mini-forest, I went to my lookout spot.

Watching these formerly very poised individuals slowly and with great trepidation walk toward a situation with which they had no experience was one of my favorite things to do. It was quite cute even though it was somewhat sad. I usually would light a cigarette or a joint or something just to make sure they did not loose the nerve at the last moment. I could always see just a slight nod of the head right then, probably an internal “OK” to keep going after many second (third, fourth…) thoughts. The next thing I would do was lull them into a sense of security by explaining how nothing was going to bother us, and that no one had ever “discovered” me here. Lastly, of course, it was down to business.

My seduction had already begun some time before, but now it was time to make the real moves. I knew he would not want a kiss or anything like that, but I tried anyway. As I moved toward him, he almost imperceptively swayed backward. The second I touched him, wherever that may have been, he would jerk away as if electrocuted. I would then move very near his ear and remind him of the purpose of his visit to my den of iniquity while slowly sliding my hand down his torso stopping just above his belt. My fingers would trace the top of his pants from hip to hip and slowly move inside. When I was no longer able to easily move within his pants, I would unbuckle the belt, if he had one, and unbutton his pants. This allowed for better access, but was also quite awkward at times. I would then move around to his back, keeping my hands in his pants over his underwear and pubic area but not quite touching his dick. I would also be saying nothings into his ear and on his neck causing the chills I needed to see in him to keep him from second guessing his decision to be with me for the time at hand.

Feeling his discomfort as well as excitement, I would continue my move inexorably downward. My hands, meaning fingertips, would begin lightly touching the base of his incredibly hard cock. (By now it was ready to burst out of his pants because anything he had experienced to this point had been quick and somewhat nasty, while I took my time and made him need to beg for release.) I made sure I took at least five minutes on this teasing, stopping and going to ensure the horrible pleasure (I realize the oxymoronic nature of “horrible pleasure” but it was horrible as well as being pleasurable so there is not other phrase). My ability to hold him off was what kept him there. He would usually moan and/or get nasty. A few times I was roughly thrown to the ground while he “tried” to rape me. First off, that was my plan. Secondly, I wasn’t some little pussy that was easily overpowered. Yes, I was small, but I was not a proverbial pushover. I knew pressure points and all that so one well placed thumb could make just about anyone move when I needed him to. Anyway, soon his penis would be out in the air and I would begin teasing the tip. Many a time, that was as far as it got because he was so ready that he could no longer hold on. Sometimes, though, I was able to make him hold on all the way to penetration. That never lasted more than a couple of seconds for him. If I ended up topping him, I could go for quite a while and did so. (I also had the ability to control my own pleasure, which was a pleasure in and of itself.)

After the deed, there were usually one or two more meetings before he would feel guilty about something and tell me to never talk to him again. That, as you know, was just fine with me. It is not that I didn’t like any of these guys, it was more about the fact that there were so many out there, I couldn’t see why I should be stuck with just one or two, you know what I mean? These conquests would completely ignore me in school, to the point that their friends and cohorts knew something was up, or had been if you get my drift. They had never wanted to be seen with me to begin with, but after we had hooked up, they made a point to be as far away as possible. Not very bright when you are trying to hide.

(Let me tell you guys that are reading this for inspiration something: Don’t let the “guilt” get in your way. If you want to do something, do it. If you want to hide something from someone, make sure you do not go so far against it that people know SOMETHING had happened.)

One time one of my teachers got wind of my exploits and tried to extol to me “the error of my ways.” I knew he wanted me, and, what was a 13 year-old boy-whore to do??? You know exactly what I did and I just might go into detail before the end. I really need to get back to the neighbor boy, though. I feel like I have left him hanging. Holy shit, THAT was a major digression, sorry, but it had to be done.

Where were we? Oh yeah, we were making breakfast, and a mess of the kitchen. I also found out this remarkable specimen of human flesh was only 12 years old. That was going to be a problem, though I tried to tell myself it would make no difference. After all, I had been that kid not too long before myself. Before the food was even done, we were on the floor doing what boys do. I had noticed his pretty little peter poking out of his boxers, probably on purpose if he was anything like me, and I was betting he was. He noticed me noticing him and made sure he wagged it around with every movement. I wasted very little time going over to him and grabbing hold. He was completely ready to go and so was I, but, before anything truly happened, I had to stop. There was no way I could get involved with anything like this, even though he WAS pretty. I couldn’t go the way of the proverbial dirty old man, especially since I wasn’t even yet what one would LEGALLY consider a man. I must admit, that I did beat off to him a great many times, but I never did anything sexual.

After the initial near disaster, I decided to actually talk to this boy. I wanted to find out if he knew what he was doing or just acting upon what he had learned. It turned out that he had been sexually active in one way or another since he was very young, and liked it. His family had been very open and participated with one another in various “exploratory” play type things. Society, of course, would have looked down on the practice, but who was “society” to say what was good for one family? Those fuckers had made quite a mess of things as I have already said on more than one occasion.

I decided to use him to get more of what I wanted from those who thought I was getting too old. Of course I still looked young and my new little brother in arms looked old for his age, he still had no hair where it counted though his size, and you know what size I mean, showed things a man could only hope to achieve. While it is true that size really doesn’t matter, unless you are too fat to get it up past your gut, it sure as hell makes one take notice. Truthfully those donkey-dicked guys hurt more than they are erotic, but they ARE fun to look at and lick, and touch, and fondle… you get the picture I’m sure. My use of the little cutie was not to be long lived, though. First he was too close to physical maturity to be useful in my world, secondly he was too much like me to do my bidding without taking his own as more important. I wasn’t happy about it, but couldn’t blame him either. We only got in one good teaming effort.

I had sent him into the YMCA in the heart of Lake County to see what he could catch. I had been stalking the area for some time and pretty much knew who had the money and who watched whom. I told the younger one to watch the thin tall guy with the very dark hair because he would often, after pulling up in his new Mercedes-Benz, sit and watch the younger guys enter after school. I figured he would be the perfect match for my plan. I was, as usual, right on the mark.

I was a member of the Y myself, come on, it was a great place to see what you might get without having to wait until the last minute. Where else could a boy who loved guys go to see them with nothing on and not have to put out or be shocked by what he MIGHT see later? Nowhere was better than the YMCA. That song was written for a purpose, you know.

Anyway… I stayed in the locker area and watched as the drama began to unfold. My little protégé, as I had decided to term him, almost pranced into the sight line of the target. He began singing some song and dancing just enough to be noticeable but not obnoxious. He chose a locker right next to the guy, which made him visibly nervous, and slowly started taking off his clothes. His socks and shoes came off first, then his pants. Underneath he wore boxers, as he had when we first met, so he knew his pecker would show if he lifted his leg in just the right manner. He waited until the guy was furtively watching him (I was behind them but in a perfect place to see what was happening so was able to give him the OK when that look happened, as we had discussed prior to bringing our plan to fruition). I gave him the “high sign,” and he did a little dance to show off his, “stuff.” The man was now almost palpably frightened, but at the same time so excited he was unable to look away. My little one was better at this than I could have ever imagined, though I don’t know why I should have been in any way shocked or amazed.

By the time, and this really happened over less than five minutes, he, meaning the youngster, was done undressing, the man had a raging hard-on he was vainly attempting to hide and the boy was there, too, though of course he did nothing to hide it. In fact, as you have come to expect, he actually flaunted it. While the man was vainly trying to escape from this arrest waiting to happen, the boy accosted him with inane questions and ridiculous banter. Watching from my semi-safe hiding place, I was again struck by this kid’s incredible beauty. There was no way this man would be able to resist for much longer, so I decided to put a stop to this portion of my plan.

I walked toward the boy and made sure he saw me. We really hadn’t discussed this part in the planning stages, but I figured he should have enough brains to know what I was trying to do. He didn’t. Sometimes, which is why I generally went after the older guys, I forgot how immature, and I really always hated that word, the younger folk were. He was busy playing and having too much fun, just like children do. Consequences were of no import to the little dude. I never really cared either, but I always knew when to pull back in order to ensure I got what I wanted. He, obviously, had another mind set, or lack there of. The boy kept dancing and prancing. I glared at him, hoping it might make some difference but feeling it probably would not. I finally had to physically place myself between the two and put my arm around his shoulder in a big-brotherly manner. I felt him tense and knew what he was going to do before he did.

He began calling me all kinds of fag type words and saying he didn’t know me. He got louder with each word and was bringing attention to our portion of the locker room. The guy, while this was happening, stood there stunned, for a moment before realizing it was his opening to bolt. He was still in his swim shorts so he made a beeline for the pool. I didn’t really think that was a good idea, but it did help my situation in that as soon as the youngster noticed he, meaning our target, was gone, HE quit acting like a moron. He then turned toward me, excitement all out there and noticeable to whomever wanted to see, and gave me an unbreakable bear hug. He told me, loudly, that he loved me and how he would never do something like that again. The other guys who had heard the commotion left shaking their heads. I could hear rumblings that I’m sure were about the fag this or faggot that, but, as I have said, we were both young and he looked older than he was and I younger, so no one even thought about our true intent. I whispered to him that we had to re-focus on our plan so that we could end the charade. I also reminded him that we were not supposed to have brought any undue attention to the man or ourselves we were after, but THAT, obviously, was not to be.

We finally got our swimming garb on and went to the pool. I loved going to pools for obvious reasons, at least to my way of thinking it’s obvious. Well, for those of you who might not know, it is a wonderful thing to see the hidden portions of a guys anatomy when the water sucks his shorts more tightly to body and…. I don’t need to go any further with that. I tried to explain that we needed to keep our distance from the guy but never let him think he was out of our collective mind. The little one, of course, kept going too close and making the wrong comments, but I stayed closer to him and was able to keep him from going too far. The man, in a state of nervous fluster the likes of which I had never really seen before, except maybe when that teacher I told you about and the guy I had just gotten rid of realized what they were doing, finally left the pool area, and my youngster was about to follow. I kept him back for a minute or two because I wanted to pull back a bit. I knew full well our guy was going nowhere. The boy, though, had not yet had the experience to be quite as sure of it as I.

He argued with me about how we were going to lose the man, to the point of getting loud once again, but I calmed him down much more quickly than the earlier incident. In fact, I was beginning to see an emotional problem with him that would work to my detriment rather than in a positive manner. The first thing, ion the locker room, just felt like play taken too far, but this time, I could see that he allowed emotion to cloud intelligence and sense. I convinced him that we needed to give the man a little space because we had visibly freaked him out. It was easy to tell how he was reacting because physical signs were very evident. Beside which, he practically fell off his bench when they boy started his little naked dicky-dance. There was no way he was going to pass this up.

When we got back to the locker room, surprisingly enough, our mark was sitting in the position he was when we first arrived. He was nearly dressed and had a piece of paper on the floor where the youngster had left his clothing. He put on his shirt and walked out the door, looking, not so furtively, over his shoulder to ensure we had seen the paper. I picked it up and the fucking little pain in the ass ripped it out of my hands. By this time, and I know it was not very long, I was about ready to tear the little fucker’s head off and shit down his neck, but being the epitome of restraint that I am, I let it go because I didn’t want to lose any pertinent information. Luckily, for me, I thought better of just ripping it from his moronic hands, because, as it was, there was a tear right near the specific place he wanted US to meet him. I stress the word us because, at first, it was only to be the boy and I was going to just “show up.” This twist, made it much more easy for me to get my proverbial hooks in and take it to the next level..

I know you all think me horrible, and I guess you should. I was not lacking in savvy, therefore I knew what all the TV shows made everyone believe was the “right” way to be. I had also gone to church and read quite extensively. I had even tried, a couple of years prior, to be what you consider normal, but it was impossible. I just absolutely didn’t care.

I think I need to tell you guys something before you decide this is not worth your time to read. There have been many times in the past and will probably be some in the future, Hell it is most likely going on right now, where someone purports to be writing about his or her life when it is done by another. This is me writing about me. I know it seems a bit within the higher-level realm due to wording and exposition, but I was born with an incredible thirst for knowledge. I have been a voracious reader since about the age of four or five. I know the words I use and absolutely love using language for any purpose. I know some of what I have written sounds as if a much older person was telling it; but that is not the case. I remember things as I have written them. I was always much older than my chronological age, therefore things come out in that way.

Anyway, I finally wrested the informative slip of paper from the little shit’s hand, not without some more playing around and a couple new crinkles. It seemed the man wanted to meet us at the mall. I would have, at one time, thought that to be the best place to meet, but, honestly, I didn’t want him to be seen with us by so many people. The problem, of course, was that there was no way to contact him to say differently except by doing exactly what I did not want to do, which was… meet with him.

At about ten in the morning on a Saturday, we went to the Great Lakes Mall and were outside of the Hickory Farms store near the south end of the concourse. I spotted a man, actually three men, looking in our direction. One began walking toward us while the others just hung back a bit. (It looked to me as if they were trying to act like they had no interest in us, when they were truthfully very focused. Then again, it seemed like I was letting my paranoia regarding meeting him there in the first place get the better of me. I decided to just let it rock.) It was definitely our guy coming to us. He gave a furtive wave, then kind of moved his eyes to his left, our right, indicating that we should follow him toward the southwest wing. This was down by the bathrooms, which did not sit well with me, yet again.

While walking behind him, we had to pass the gaggle of old dudes watching the stock market crawl who were there every day and always made me feel like a piece of meat when I went by, though I let some of them treat me that way when I was in the mood. I happened to look back and thought I noticed one of the two other guys looking in our direction, but, upon turning fully around saw no one I recalled. I couldn’t help but feel how typically whorish this entire situation was. It reeked of anonymous bathroom sex and the beginning of the AIDS scare, which had hit but was not really important here in the Cleveland area. I was not in any way afraid of that thing because of who my targets were and the fact that I almost always wore a protective covering or three. Wow, that was another digression. Oops. Sorry.

Anyway, we entered the bathroom just about 30 seconds after the mark. My former protégé was ahead of me and went immediately to the stall we knew the dude would be in. I actually just decided to stay back and watch the probable fireworks, rather than trying to stop anything from happening (probably because I had just resigned myself to the fact that this kid was just too young and impulsive to ever be someone I could control). I watched pants fall to the floor and heard a couple of slight stifled moans. I was just about to start laughing when the exterior door opened. I had momentarily forgotten about my earlier paranoia, but it returned with a vengeance. Without so much as a conscious thought, I began coughing, it sounded real because my throat was raw due to a bout of singing with a band I knew and it had that kind of barking sound one cannot easily fake, and acted as though I were washing my hands. I peered at myself, and my surroundings, in the mirror and recognized first one, then the second, guy from the concourse. I wondered why I hadn’t just trusted my first instincts, but was at a loss as to what I could do now. The fucking morons didn’t get my meaning so, honestly, I didn’t know what to do. Soon enough, though, my hand was forced.

One of the men told me to come with him while the other went directly to the occupied stall and, using some tool I had never before seen, unlocked the locking mechanism. This was the second time I wanted to laugh out loud in about one minute. The old guy was on the toilet with his pants around his ankles showing that proverbial, “deer in the headlights,” look while the youngster was turning around, not even bothering to gather his pants with his dick in his hand and shit-eating grin on his face. This was a comedy of errors and had been since the beginning, but what were we going to do? I actually did begin to chuckle while this was going on, which started the kid. He began to snicker as he was pulling up his pants. Within a very short time we were both laughing so hard there were tears in our eyes and the three adults had looks of utter disbelief all over their faces. I knew it didn’t look very good for any of us, but, really, what were they going to do to us? Abso-fucking-lutely nothing!

It turned out that the guys were not friends of our mark as I had first ascertained, but had been following him for quite some time. They had met up in various places, so he thought they were nothing more than acquaintances. Boy, was he wrong. They were part of a vice task force looking into prostitution and he happened to be their first bust, lucky him. I didn’t even know there was such a thing as a vice task force in Lake County, but, I guess you live and learn.

They read him his rights, after ordering him to get himself together while the boy and I were ushered into two separate rooms in the mall office. I don’t know what they asked my “colleague,” but, for me, it was the same old typical stuff they always ask. They began by saying that the other person had already confessed and that it was not as odd as I might expect. They said that it happens often that an older person will seduce a younger one to fulfill his “sick” needs. Blah, blah, blah, blah fucking blah! As you already know, this had absolutely NOTHING to do with him seducing us, we went after him, and quite obnoxiously I might add. I tried to get that across to the investigator, but, as with most adults, he wasn’t hearing it. Cops and social workers were all the same. They had a mindset and a set group of, “general guidelines,” by which they worked. Some of those were correct some of the time, but, as with everything, there are extenuating circumstances.

I told them I would not go to court or anywhere else and say anything against our mark. They said they didn’t need me to because the youngster had already told them everything they needed to know. While I didn’t really believe them; I did begin to question his ability to keep his mouth shut, OR tell them the truth. Being minors, though, they had no right to question us in any manner without parents or some other representation, so I decided to play with them a little.

I didn’t have my license with me at the time, so I told them I was 18 and was just going into the bathroom to get, “my little brother before he did something stupid.” I obviously didn’t have the chance because they came running in when they did. They asked why I was standing by the sinks instead of trying something else, to which I relied that I had already knocked on the door and he said nothing had happened yet. I told him to come out and went back to lean on the sinks which was why I was looking toward the stalls when they walked in. I said I was quite sure they would have noticed that if they hadn’t come in like they did, which made me think of something else. I asked him how they could have possibly know what stall to go to without checking them all first. He refused to answer my question. I said that he probably had some cameras hidden in the bathroom, which was not even legal. He acted like someone was looking in the window and abruptly left. I knew I had hit the right chord and was about to skate with my little one.

The cops said he had to hold me until someone came and claimed me, to which I balked rather loudly. I told him he had nothing to hold me on, AND when I did return with my identification as well as my lawyer, he and the department would look stupid enough to be seen on the eleven o’clock news. He knew I was right but attempted to make me sweat just a little longer. Within about twenty minutes I was out the door with the kid. We had been told we would be required to testify, which I knew wasn’t the case as we had not even given them FAKE names let alone real ones. Beside which, they saw what they needed to see and it had nothing to do with us, though I do not know how they thought they were going to get around the camera thing, which gave me another idea.

I called that teacher I had spoken of just a bit ago, I still had him enough in my pocket that I could call out of the clear blue and, after bitching for a little while, he would do pretty much what I asked, and asked him to come pick me up (I didn’t mention the little asshole). When he met us at the station across from the cemetery, I asked him to drive us to the mall. He asked about my car and I told him it was too long and convoluted a story to get into at that moment and in present company. He nodded in mock understanding and began his ever present grilling. He asked me how I was, what I had been doing, where I was living, what I was doing with my life, how was my love life, yaddah, yaddah, yaddah. I gave him my typical answers and left it at that. He wanted to know what we needed at the mall and I asked him if he had any tools. The look on his face went from normal to hyper curiosity is less than a second. In fact, the change was quite comical and almost caused me to break out laughing. If the shithead in the back seat had seen it we would have both been laughing as uncontrollably as you do when you smoke weed. I told him he was welcome to come with us and see, but couldn’t really explain it.

For once, I hadn’t really though this out, but I wanted to get some proof of my suspicion. I wanted that camera or at least to be sure it was actually there. Then it came to me. I asked teacher dude if he had any money, which was my perennial question of him. He rolled his eyes and said it figured but went looking through his wallet anyway. I explained that we needed to go to the drug store and get a Polaroid camera and some film. I told him I didn’t want to keep it I just needed it for a few minutes then he could return it. Of course he would have to eat the price of the film, but it was a small price to pay, at least in my mind. He started to complain but thought better of it and just did what I asked rather than deal with the drama inherent in not giving me my way.

We bought what I wanted and proceeded to the bathroom. I wasn’t sure where to look but figured it had to be up in one of the grates in the ceiling or by the lights, so… I climbed up on the toilet in the last stall, thinking that that was where the kid was and where the Feds found him so quickly. It wasn’t there.