the end

well that little BITCH stole my ending. I have to rethink and write what it was.....

One Final Story

I have one more thing to tell you, but I don't think it belongs here. Maybe, but.................

The awakening.

But, it looked like something HAD been. There were wires hanging in various places, which I photographed, but they didn’t look as though they had been ripped out nor that it had been done within the couple of hours since I had been there. I had to continue my search. It took a while, but I finally found what I was looking for. After exhausting every sensible thing of which I could think, I turned toward the mirror to check my beautiful face and immediately slapped my forehead. I hadn’t even thought of that. AND I was just in a fucking police station. It was goddamned two-way mirror, but how was I going to prove that without breaking the damned thing?

Then, something else caught my mind. I didn’t really care any more. I had made my point and had gotten out of whatever the cops thought they were going to do, so… They may have wanted to do something to the kid, but I wanted to wash my hands of his stupid ass anyway. AND, there was nothing he could do that would send any repercussions my way. It was at that moment that I realized how much time I had wasted on this moronic little endeavor, though in the grand scheme it had not been all THAT much. A couple of months out of my plan to conquer the section of the world I wanted to take was time I was not willing to waste, usually. I needed to get back on track.

After coming up with some bullshit story about having a sudden excruciating headache, I got the teacher dude to take me back to my vehicle. It was nothing new, and he expected it, but he rolled his eyes none-the-less along with mumbling under his breath something about how I always did things like that and never gave anything back. Well, no fucking shit! I never said anything different nor gave anyone any reason to think it ever would be different.

I spent the next few days reconciling some of the things I had let drift, including trying to find a guy willing to give me some money without need for any long term return. Yes, this is to say I kinda started whoring again because I needed to do so, or at least felt such. Oh, and that guy, the teacher dude, I told you all about just recently… he was the same one I used way back when with the bullshit bicycle accident. I had done that to him probably a hundred times or so over the years but this was different, somewhat.



As I have already said more than once, maybe not in so many words but shall I say I have at least alluded to the fact… I was a very desirable human being. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was a niche I could fill in the older dudes young guy portion of the market and it was time I started using my God given abilities to get what I so rightly deserved. Yes, you read that right. DESERVED! Why the hell wouldn’t I deserve something? I was, after all, blessed (or cursed) with these incredible looks that never allowed me to be left alone. Everywhere I went, people of all ages, sexes, races and creeds stared at me as if I were nothing more than an object. Most of the time they didn’t even try to hide it, for fuck sake. So why shouldn’t I use what they started to my advantage? I had already done some of that, but it was now time to take it to a much more interesting, if not dangerous, level.

I knew there was a finite amount of time in which to do an infinite number of things. Back on track was where I need to be. I realized that my complacency with Lake County was going to have to be overcome if I wanted anything exciting to happen, so I decided to take a trip. There were myriad logistical things to ponder but I decided to fly by the seat of my pants, in more ways than one.

I looked up the number to Greyhound and called to find out what the bus schedules were for places warm. I really wanted to go to New York or somewhere like that, Maybe San Francisco, but it was winter and I wanted to be sure that if I couldn’t find anywhere to stay some night I wouldn’t freeze to death, though I figured my wiley ways SHOULD prevent any such thing. My two favorite choices were Southern California and South Florida. East Coast vs. West Coast. Since the venue really didn’t bother me, I decided to find out which one would cost less and, shockingly enough, it turned out the San Diego was cheaper than getting to West Palm Beach, so off I went to get myself a ticket, one way.

I stopped off at the homestead to tell my mother and her dude, the same one she had recently been in jail with which had to have been some kind of record for her (yes, I realize it is a cliché, but it was true damn it), that I wouldn’t be around for a while to which she told me to be careful or something inane of the like. I told her I loved her and opened to the front door to the sight of the youngster smirking in my direction. Fucking HELL that boy was hot! I wanted nothing more than to cover his face with wet sloppy kisses and slide my tongue slowly down his perfect body, you get the picture, right then and there, but as a seasoned veteran, I kept myself in check and just gave him a hug and a cheek kiss. Even the smell of him turned me on. He smelled so fresh and…I don’t know, just innocent, though I absolutely knew that NOT to be the case. I told him my plan, somewhat, and followed him into his house where I finally met his mother and father. They were exactly as I thought they would be, very good looking but very aloof. They didn’t talk to me but talked to him ABOUT me as if I were not there. They then blew us off, within a couple of minutes, at which time we climbed to his room and did what comes natural to people like us who are very sexual beings. That which I had help back in the recent past I had no reason to do any longer. I considered it my going away gift to myself and my gift to him as well.

I ended up staying with the boy for a couple of days before I could break myself away, but the time had come to embark upon my journey to the sunny beaches of what I soon found out was more like INSANE Diego than Saint Diego as the name suggests. We arrived at the bus depot sometime around midnight-ish, I think, and had no real time to think about what to do, at least I didn’t. The bus was to be put out of service for cleaning and maintenance so we had to vacate rather quickly. I had only a large duffle bag like those you remember from military movies, so baggage and what to do with it was not the problem. The problem was that I didn’t really have any fucking clue what-so-ever where to go and what to do. I hadn’t thought out the possibility of arriving so late that nothing was open. My first thought was to go to the beach and hang out all night but I knew that back home the beach at night was the first place the cops looked and THAT was not something I wanted to deal with ever, let alone on the first night I was in this paradisical land. So I tried to get my bearings.

As is the norm, the bus station was in a very run-down feeling part of town, again, at least as I saw it. I guess it makes sense that the stations were some of the worst looking buildings in any town. After all, they were open for 24 hours a day seven days a week and had some of the poorest people in the country using them on a daily basis. And, because of the ease of access, many of those without a place to call home often ended up using the various facilities available. You know, like running water and such. Anyway, due to the dingy look of the building, staying there all night was not going to happen. I figured I would do so for a short time, enough to read through some of the flyers sitting around, and then venture out to the nearest hotel or whatever. You already know what happens next, don’t you? Well you damned well should by now, but I spell it out for you.

While looking at a flyer on the Red Roof or Holiday Inn or Quality Inn or whatnot, I felt the stare I always noticed when in public, so… I knew my sleeping arrangements were not going to be a problem for long. I tried to avoid direct eye contact with my latest mark but had to see what he looked like so I could determine his status as a viable alternative to spending some of my hard earned money. He was a bit rumpled, but he looked as though he would do.

We went through the regular preliminaries, though shortened because I was a bit wiped out. I told a story of woe and he acted as though he were the most altruistic person in the entire world, yaddha, yaddha, yaddha, blah fucking blah. Soon we were sitting in the most typical of all places, the all-night diner. I do not know why it is, but everyone you meet thinks you need food or drink or some other, though I don’t know what other there might be, type of sustenance if you are young. It is as if they expect you to be completely helpless. As you all well know that was absolutely NOT the case with me, but, as my past had already shown, I was never one to look the proverbial gift-horse in the mouth. I wasn’t really hungry, but I could eat, AND that way I would save even more money. I did suspect, though, that I would be getting some (get your fucking mind out of the gutter, though you’re probably right about that, too) from this dude later.

Anyway, we went back to his place and I was completely enthralled. I had never seen such a beautiful sight before. To this day I cannot tell you exactly where we were, but I do know it was much higher than the city proper. We went out to the patio in the back yard and could see, forever, it seemed. There were lights for miles then absolute darkness, which I had to believe was the ocean. For some reason, Lake Erie never really seemed quite as dark, at least to my recollection at that point. I think someone said we might be in La Jolla looking over the city of San Diego, but, again, I can’t be sure. All I can say is that is was incredible and very comfortably warm. In fact, I decided to just sit there until the sun came up, all the while my host was trying to ply me with wine, weed, and food, which I politely refused, though I did request a can of pop. He laughed, of course because the word pop is such a Mid-western term. The rest of the country calls it soda, which I must say really does sound better for some reason.

In case you aren’t following my reasoning, I will spell it out for you. I fully expected to have to pay, in some way, for my board, but it was going to be on my terms. I was NOT going to make the mistake of trusting this guy, not that I had ever trusted anyone in the past. So… a GLASS of wine or CUP of coffee or a joint, which I didn’t smoke anyway, was not going to be touching my lips. There would be no chance that anything could be laced so as to have me in any way incapacitated or even slower to react than normal.

Soon enough it was morning and actually beginning to get quite warm. My host offered me a bed, which I started to decline, but realized was something I definitely needed. I was lead to a very nicely appointed room with a four-poster in the center and tasteful art adorning the walls. He very gently “helped” me out of my clothes and ran his hands lightly all over my body. Though I was incredibly tired, his touch was incredible. It was so soft yet urgent that it sent chills from my head to my toes that just kept on coming. In fact, he had barely touched my dick before I was spurting all over the place. I wanted to remember that feeling so I could use it on my future conquests. If this feeling could do what it had done to a jaded little fuck like me, God only knew what I could use it for with them. Anyway, thankfully, the dude was content with what he had accomplished, so he left me alone to sleep, which I did until nearly 5PM. When I awoke, I was refreshed and ready for adventure.

As soon as I got out to the spacious living room, and it looked all the more impressive in the light, I found about ten thousand, I am exaggerating a bit here, photographs of what appeared to be me all over the place. I was caught with my mouth open in the throes of a wild dream. I was lying there with one leg out of the covers looking as though I had nothing at all on, which I probably didn’t. One photo was of me on my back and the covers all the way down to the base of my dick where you could see the top of both of my legs but not quite the rest of me. There were also tons of others, but they all had the same look to them, though slightly different in pose. I was astounded, yet intrigued. AND, upon more stringent examination, I found they were not all of me, but of guys with a VERY similar look. All the while, I could feel his eyes upon me even though he said nothing.

He had food prepared and ready for my consumption, and I politely refused, for the same reason I had told you before. I was absolutely ravenous and really needed sustenance, so I suggested a trip to go looking around. He didn’t even pause while going to get the keys and told me to get ready to go. I brushed my teeth, with my own brush, showered, with my own soap, and was ready in about ten minutes, by which time most of the pictures were gone. I didn’t ask and he didn’t offer anything. So, off we went.

Truthfully, I cannot remember much about that trip to the west except that I was unimpressed with ocean, I had grown up next to a large body of water of which I could not see the other side and the colors were not as everyone had said about the ocean. It was just as muddy looking as Lake Erie, except at this one place by some river or other inlet. I DID love Ocean Beach. It was a great expanse of white sand, somewhat like Headlands in Mentor, with a concrete sidewalk built in. I believe there were shops on the east side of the beach, but can’t really remember. I had a bit of a freaky experience there, as well. I was walking in the Pacific when suddenly something kind of tubular, all I could think of was a snake of some sort, wrapped itself around my foot and just as quickly let go. That was the end of my NEED to walk in the Pacific Ocean.

I was there for about four months before I had gotten my fill and needed to move on. My original pick-up and I were together for about a week of that time. I allowed him to take tons of pictures, and he gave me money and a place to stay, it was a bit different than what I had used before, but there was, of course, some sex. It was strange with him, though. Where every other guy I had seduced was more than willing to fuck around, this dude seemed to really not want to do anything BUT take pictures. In fact, I had to MAKE him let me suck his dick. Odd, I know, but it definitely made it easier to leave and find someone more sexual. Hey, come on now, you all know it wasn’t all about conquest and money after all, which I must say I had made quite a bit in that seven or eight days, I needed to get my rocks off, too.

So, after a couple more weeks in Insane Diego, I decided to move south. Most of what you have heard about Tijuana is the absolute truth, except that most of the people I know have never heard of the proliferation of the boy trade. There are so many guys down there for the taking that I didn’t even stay 24 hours. Some of these boys were so disgusting I didn’t even want to be near them and here were these older folks not only getting near, but paying them for various sexual favors. FUCK!

I decided, next, to set my sights on the northern realms. I figured Los Angeles would be the perfect place for me. Oh, of course I knew of the millions that had come before me, every pun possible intended, but I was much more special than them. The Hollywood Strip, Sunset Boulevard, and all the rest were exactly as I had hoped, but they were also exactly as I had heard. Once again, there were too many boys like me to allow for me to be in any way special. When every body and his brother are looking for action and willing to sell it on the cheap, the market is overcome and someone has to lose. I was not about to be that person, so, after a couple of quick hundred, which took longer than I had hoped, I moved on again. I decided the West Coast was already, too commercialized and well know for my trade, so I headed back eastward. I stopped in Reno, on my bus trip back to Cleveland, and actually had quite a good time. There were tons of guys around just salivating, literally and figuratively, for a boy like me. I had no problem living, eating, or even do anything I wanted. A couple of the guys just wanted me to be there for them when they woke up, not even wanting me to share a bed, which by now you all know is usually something I wanted as much if not more than them. I even left there with about eight hundred bucks in my pocket. I was feeling quite full of myself, I must say.

Of course, that’s always when the shit hits the fan. I wasn’t paying attention, because everything had gone so well up to that point, and I was rolled when I was drunk. I had found a couple of compatriots and we had gotten a few bottles of rot gut wine and just got completely fucked up. I think I was smoking some pot as well, but I cannot be totally sure. The next thing I knew I woke up under a bridge with nothing on but my shirt and blood on my legs. My first fear? Yep, you guessed it. I felt my face to see if there was anything wrong. Of course I couldn’t see it, I know I didn’t have to tell you that, but… Oh well. As far as I could ascertain, there were no extraneous bumps, so I had hoped I was all right. The next thing I had to do was get somewhere while walking around with my dick flopping around. That didn’t take long because as soon as I left the cover of the bridge, my best friends the fucking cops where there.

After a few go-rounds with the men in blue, I finally admitted to my identity, and, to my great surprise, found out there was a missing persons bulletin out on me. For the life of me, I couldn’t imagine who would have given enough of a shit to do something like that. I knew, unless by some outrageous turn of events and change in fortune, it would never have been my mother, she was too into whatever she was doing at the time, and, she, I don’t think, would have ever meddled in the affairs I considered my own. Of course she would have helped if she could, but I can’t image she would have called the police. For Christ’s sake, that would have brought attention to her, and I KNEW that wasn’t about to happen, but more on that later.

The immediate problem was one of trying to explain what had happened, when, as I already told you, I didn’t really know. My second problem was figuring out how to get some damned clothes and get my shit back together enough to make my next move. Well, I have to tell you, my guardian angel, or fate or whatever else you might want to call it, decided to intervene in my favor once again. Due to the missing person’s thing, I was going to be provided a bus ticket and some clothing for a trip back home. But, once they talked it over, the cops decided it would be better if I were be put on a plane, as I HAD “run away” already and would have many chances to do the same again if I took a bus. Little did they know I actually WANTED to return, but, hey, now I could fly for my first time without having to pay for it. BONUS! So, from the Reno airport to Cleveland Hopkins International Airport, a flight of about four and a half hours, I gazed at the passing landscape feeling all at once, all powerful AND insignificant. It gave me a new outlook, an epiphany actually, which I wasn’t really sure I liked.


Upon my arrival at Hopkins, I disembarked (for some retarded reason people seem to like to add stupidity to some words like for example they call disembark “debark” which sounds like taking the ability to make a barking sound out of a dog or tearing the covering off of a tree, sorry about that, but, hell, what are these people thinking?) to find no one I knew waiting. Oh, the cops had definitely made sure I was to be met by someone, I heard the plan, AND, since it was a non-stop, they knew I was pretty much a captive, though in no trouble per se. I looked around, almost hoping to see one of those signs you see on the TV shows like Magnum, or whatever, and was just about to have a seat near the concourse windows when, out of the corner of my eye I saw who had instigated the entire thing. I was all at once thankful and irritated, which seemed to be happening quite a bit lately.

Standing near the door to the outside deck, which I only knew because there was a sign that said, “outside deck,” was a familiar face, with a damned shit-eating grin plastered thereon. My old teacher buddy was back in my life. I guess it was only fitting in a way. I had fucked up his life in ways I have never before really explained, but will, so he had turned the tables and done the same to me. In truth, he had probably saved me from a much more horrible end than what I had begun to plan. I am sure there was a bit of a control aspect to it, but underlying, there was definitely his love for me. I really think I would have liked to reciprocate, too, but it just wasn’t something in my make-up, so, being the little fucking shit I was, I scowled at him and walked the other way.

As I began to turn I saw, out of the corner of my eye, his look of dejected resignation. He knew full well I was not going to be happy about his interference, and he also knew I only wanted him when I wanted him, so his dejection was… oh, shit. His look was as much a ploy as my feigned disgust. Holy hell, I had taught him not to feel, or forced it upon him which ever was closest to the truth.

He came after me as he usually did and, after my latest slap of understanding, I stopped. I didn’t turn until I heard the unmistakable slap of his shoes, I knew his gait well because when I would be at the house, I always knew where he was, not that I ever really had to hide except when I took money from him, coming very close to me. I slowly turned and looked him in the eyes. He attempted to hug me and I just glared at him. He knew I never liked that either so why, in his mind it would be OK here in a busy airport was beyond me. I asked him why he had gotten into my business in the way he had and he said it was a must. He said he had begun looking for me about the time I left because something had come up from the past that had to be dealt with.

"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.

I had to take a break!

I had to take some time before the end to do something. I was fading and needed to perk back up. I really don't like the drug thing too much, but a but of cocaine never hurt anybody...really. I'll finish telling you everything in a bit...

The Kid, part one>>>

I was a bit pissed, though, that he had just decided to show back up when he had left so abruptly before. He said that he wanted to make sure I was not “being abused.” Of all people, I would have thought he would know I wasn’t about to let that happen. I may not have been a large person, but I was much more intelligent than most of my conquests, at least in the ways of what I was doing. The “street sense” if you will. I was pretty bright in other things, too, if I do say so myself. And, let us not forget how I could use my looks to get WHATEVER I wanted. Oh, have I said that before? Oops.

Anyway, we decided to go back to his apartment, which was actually his without a roommate, at least to my knowledge. He told me of his trials and tribulations since the last time we were together, which I didn’t really care to hear, and got down to business. What? I was sixteen. You all know a guy of that age can go all night if need be, AND that’s all we think about. By the time we were done, I was tired. He wanted to talk, which I let him do, and just wanted to leave the earth for a while and float around in my own world, which I did, nodding and making yes or no sounds when appropriate. I finally fell asleep half listening to him and half beginning to plan my attack on my dude.

One of things I liked best, regarding my abilities, was that I could, “take off,” from wherever I was if something that I didn’t really care for was happening. It was not like what they call astral projection because I was still there so to speak. I could kind of go to a place that wasn’t really anywhere. People and surroundings were still there but my mind allowed me to idealize them. They would be with me though more as a voice within my own head than a real person. I was then able to set my mind on automatic, thereby allowing folks to think I was still intently listening to their inane babble. What a bunch of morons.

My plan was really basic. I mean it didn’t take rocket science to figure out what I could do to fuck with this guy. The thing was… I didn’t really want to do it the legal way. I also really didn’t have any urge to keep it going for very long, either. The fact that I didn’t really care about anybody worked both ways. I didn’t love the man, nor did I hate him. What I really wanted was to find a way to ensure that he would leave me alone and get on with his life. Again, it had nothing to do with what I wanted for him, this time, but more for my own selfish interests. In other words I wanted him to get the FUCK off my dick and go find someone else to perseverate over.

I had already begun by saying what I had said while leaving the house. The second part was standing out in his yard with the college boy for five minutes or so. Now I had to formulate a plan that would either anger him so badly, or scare him enough, that he would think it was his idea to stay away. That was going to be more difficult but not impossible. I had, after all, made sure he wanted me way back at the beginning when I was basically posing for him while doing my flips and shit. I knew just the thing.

Since he had often made comments about how I was only using him, duh, I would do just that but take it up a notch or five. I called him that very night just to see if he would answer the phone, which he did after about seven rings. I actually thought his answering machine would pick up but he must have even turned that off.

I expected him to start bitching as soon as he heard my voice, which, shockingly, was not the case. Instead he just sounded tired. He said that he no longer wanted me to call him and that I had to find someone else from whom to, “suck the life out of,” his words not mine, but I must admit they were pretty powerful. I was momentarily taken aback, but then I realized what had transpired just a short time before. I said I needed gas in my car and he said he didn’t really care. I then did what always had worked before and hung up on his ass. Normally, he would call back within two minutes or so, therefore, I waited. No fucking call came.

I must have been visibly annoyed because I suddenly “felt” an intense stare coming from my college boy. I had honestly almost forgotten I was still at his place but had never really registered I was using someone else’s stuff to make calls and the like. Now THAT was the weird part of my taking off ability. He wanted to know what was going on to which I replied that it was none of his fucking business. Of course, it WAS his business as it was his place, but I wasn’t going to let him know I knew that. He called me a couple of choice names like “asshole, little shit, cocky mother-fucker,” and others. So I called him a child molester and left, slamming the door. The last look on his face was one of utter shock. I had hit him where it hurt and knew it, now THAT was fun.

I decided, since I had a bit of adrenaline flowing, to drive back over to my guy’s place. I didn’t really plan on doing anything at all. I just wanted to sit there and figure out WHAT exactly I was going to do next. I watched the drive, not really able to see the house, and noticed the windows lighting up and shutting off going from living room to bedrooms and back again. He may have been trying to act like a hard-ass, but he was not showing that. In fact, his mental state was such that I didn’t know whether or not it was worth my time to even work on him. I figured he would probably send himself over the proverbial edge as quickly as I could, BUT I just couldn’t let that show of physical anger go. That was something I promised myself I would never allow.

I waited until I saw that the living room light was off for about five minutes before I moved. In order to ensure that no one saw me get out, I rolled down the window and climbed out Dukes of Hazzard style. I slowly walked through the various trees and shrubs toward the house. I took a calm tour around the house and decided to lightly tap the windows and doors until I was sure he had begun to hear at least something. I know how cruel this sounds, but the fucker deserved it. He may have doted on me and given me what I wanted, but he still got everything he wanted as well. I mean, in truth, how many older guys DREAM of having a young boy in their bed? I can’t even begin to tell you how many google eyed stares I had had in my sixteen years.

After about ten minutes of rattling windows and doorknobs, I got bored and just left. I knew I would talk to him soon enough, but for now, I had done what I set out to do. It was time to set my sights on something else. I was somewhat adrift at that point due to the fact that I had just set my college boy adrift again after such a short reunion AND I had, maybe not completely burned, charred a bridge to my guy. It suddenly hit me that I didn’t really have anywhere else to go. I might actually have to go stay with my mother for the first time in years. It was not that I hadn’t been there off and on, but I ALWAYS had somewhere else more inviting. Damn!

At about 3 am one morning, the one after all of the above happened, I arrived at her door, at least I thought it was her door because it had been a couple of weeks earlier, and knocked. No one answered at first. After about five minutes, a light went on at the next townhouse. I stood quietly, hoping against hope that the neighbor would just go back to bed, or go on about his or her business. Of course that wasn’t going to happen in my world. No, not in my world! The light above the door came on illuminating their steps and those on both sides, which included those on which I stood. I could see a pair of eyes peering out through the curtains to the left of the door. They were dark and large and incredibly bright looking. The next thing I knew, I was waving in that general direction.

The door very cautiously and quietly opened and out walked a beautiful specimen of humanity. At first I could tell neither gender nor age, but I was pretty sure it was male and of about my age or possibly younger. The person motioned me to itself making sure I knew it wanted me to be as soundless as possible. I stood there dumbfounded for a few seconds, probably because it almost seemed like I was in some kind of Hollywood dream sequence, then forced myself to move.

He took my hand and led me into his lair, I’m telling you, that was exactly how it felt. I immediately felt both incredibly uncomfortable AND supremely at peace. I know such oxymoronic feelings make no sense, but… Anyway, he spoke and I had an image of Michael Jackson. His voice was very light and incredibly smooth. His coloring was that of lightly creamed coffee and his skin was absolutely flawless. Yes, I had determined the person was male only because I saw the huge bulge in his shorts.

He told me he knew who I was because he had heard about me from my mother. He also told me that they DID still live there, but would be gone for a few days. I stopped him because he used the word, “They,” which was something I did not know. He told me that my mother had taken on yet another of her men and that she and he had been forced to go somewhere to, “lay low,” so to speak. That meant there were probably drugs or some such involved, probably drugs. He continued to tell me about his knowledge of me, which was, again in that semi-oxymoronic manner, both exhilarating and off-putting at the very same time. This dude was going to be a trip, BUT my questions of earlier in the morning had been answered. It was time for the next step in this thing I called my life.

It turned out that my mother and her sleep-in had been picked up by the Cleveland Police for, among other things, “lewd and lascivious acts,” in public. Knowing how she was, THAT could have meant anything from flashing her tits to actually going down on some guy, or chick for that matter, in the middle of the street. I must say I was intrigued. There was nothing, by this time in my life, she could have done to shock me, but I was definitely intrigued. It also turned out that “having to lay low” was no more than spending a night or two in the old pokey. The next morning at around eleven thirty I heard them attempting to enter her humble abode. I snickered to myself and turned back over before realizing I wasn’t quite sure where I was or how I had gotten there.

Lying on my back, my right hand fell upon a warm body. I slowly turned in that direction, almost afraid of what I might see, and beheld that vision from the previous night, or earlier that morning I should say. I realize the sound of this is quite Puritanical or even Biblical, but the words seem to fit. It came flooding back to me. The entire night and its excitement hit me with full force. I had burned some bridges, played some nasty human games, hurt a couple of people, and finally ended up here at the neighbor of my mother’s house. I remembered coming inside as if it were a dream. Well, guess what? I wasn’t a fucking dream. Here I was and I was ready for whatever that meant. But, first, I needed to find out what happened to my only true family.

I walked next door to and went right in, the door was unlocked, shockingly enough. The two of them were huddled over the small kitchen table and looked up when I walked through the door. He had a look of drugged-out semi-shock, while she went right back to her line as if no one else were in the room. He started to say something but she pulled him back down to the little mirror between them. After a few snorting sounds and a finger to the upper gums, my mother finally acknowledged my presence. She toddled over and gave me a big, albeit frail feeling, hug. It felt as if she were nothing but bone, which was not surprising considering she had just gotten out of jail and the first thing on her mind, beyond even locking the front door, was to do a line or six. She asked how I had been and what I had been doing. She rambled on about her new man and what he was like. She started telling me about her latest score when suddenly she realized I was standing there. It is not that she didn’t know it was me, but it was actually ME she was talking to. We hadn’t really seen each other much in the past few months and when we had it had been for a very short time with stilted conversation. We loved each other immensely but I didn’t like her whorish ways and had never felt the need to hold back my feelings (not that I had any room to talk but at least I DID know what I was talking about).

After her initial shock had worn off, I was finally able to ask her about her latest run-in with the wonderful Cleveland PD. She explained that she and her latest were in front of Circus Circus in The Flats, when they had gotten some coke and were about to crouch down to do a line. Someone had noticed the cops so she reached into his pants to deposit her stash. Because she was already a bit tipsy, she fell into him knocking him to the ground. Being the way she was, she took the initiative and decided to pull down his zipper and jerk him off right then and there. She “forgot” about the cops that were supposedly right there, so, as she was moving her head down to blow him, the police tapped her on the shoulder and asked her to kindly get up. (Yes, I am embellishing this a bit I’m sure, but it sounds good, right?) Being the nice woman that she is, my mother yelled at him to get away and he yanked her up by her armpits. She flailed around for a few seconds then was thrown into the back of the car. Luckily for them, her friend had lost the stash, he thought, while they were, “playing.” Since he was part of the entire scene, he was brought to the justice center and thrown in jail with her for the night.

Although that was not the exact scenario I had envisioned, it was pretty damned close. After about an hour, I could no longer stand the sight of her snorting line after line and drinking like the proverbial fish, so I made my way back to the boy. Before I even got to the door he had it open and was standing there awaiting my return. I remember thinking how cute he looked at that precise moment. His eyes were just a bit lidded due to sleep but were still huge and more sparkling than any diamond I had ever seen. His beauty just may have even surpassed my own, though of course I would never admit such a thing in public, or to ANYONE else for that matter.

When I crossed the threshold, I thought about one of the things that had just come back to me from the previous night. It was my understanding that I had to be quite so as not to awaken his family, but here he was with the door wide open wearing nothing but a flimsy pair of silk boxers. AND he was not doing anything to attempt to be silent. In fact, he was in the kitchen banging pans around while trying to make breakfast, I guess. There were eggshells all over the counter and a pan spitting a bubbling on the stove. There were onionskins on the floor, a mound of cheese on a paper plate and something that resembled sausages on another plate much too near the flame of the gas burner. Although I wasn’t afraid he would get hurt per se, I did not want to see that beautiful skin marred in any way, so… I stepped in to help.

While cooking and laughing, I found out quite a bit about him, without really asking much of anything. His background seemed to be a lot like mine, but some things were glaringly different. He had two parents, both of whom he knew, and actually had some money while growing up. He was a societal outcast. His looks had caused people to immediately fall in love with him, on one side of the coin, and others hate him without any more cause. His relationship with his family was strained, but he had an extended family, which I did not. Hell, I didn’t even know any of my supposed people. That was where things started splitting apart.




It turned out that my new-found friend pretty much had the house to himself. Both parents were travelers who happened to have been out of the country at the time. He had been known as a very capable and mature kid therefore they left him home to fend for himself quite a bit. The reason, I had the feeling I was supposed to have been quiet the previous night was that he was on the phone with his mother from London and hadn’t yet finished the conversation. I, admittedly hadn’t seen any phone or had any inking of such a conversation, but, then again, there were still quite a few things I hadn’t been able to piece together. He told me about his schooling, which was, surprisingly to me at that time, private. In fact he went to one of the best schools in the area, University School which I believed to be in Shaker Heights. Most people called it US, which I had always equated with the Jackie Gleason Character in the movie “The Toy.” You know what I’m talking about. The one where his ditzy trophy wife always called him something that sounded more like, “You ass.” Anyway, that was another reason he stayed home. Although they could have afforded a tutor and such, they allowed him to make the decision. He had said that he was in eleventh grade and would probably be able to graduate in less than a year.

For myself, the only reason I even stayed in school was to look at those I wanted to see, and to keep myself under the radar of the truancy morons. I took off as much as I possibly could without having to see whomever it was that week that would make my life miserable. You all know I liked the older guys, but there was always some time for a cute burn-out or jock, if the mood hit. Especially if he was supposedly straight. I never had more fun than when I could get a straight guy to beat me off then let me suck his dick. It was a phenomenal ploy, which made people stay away from me. I know I am digressing, but this is something that I have to talk about right now.

I would scope out a potential victim, this, mind you, had been going on since I was in junior high, and go on the prowl. Once I found someone who exuded a perceived power within his particular group, I would “clandestinely” stalk him until he finally noticed (Obviously I wasn’t too sneaky, because as you know by now I was pretty damned good at getting what I wanted). Usually I would get called a faggot or pussy or something else derogatory, which never bothered me in any way. He usually said it loud enough to ensure someone else could hear. Then I would closely watch his eyes. Now, you have to realize that I didn’t always know whether or not my ploy would work, but most often it did. Anyway, once I got him to acknowledge me, things became easier.

I would begin to show up places where I could be relatively sure he was going to be without whatever entourage he may have had during the school day. I also made sure I never even looked at him while at school, because I had done that once early on and it ended badly with me having a black eye and some very untoward bruises, though all in all I had still gotten what I had wanted. My conquest, I know I may have overused the word but nothing else quite fits so get over it, would finally begin to break. I realize this sounds like a long process, but in truth it usually took less than a week to get to the place I needed. When I had finally broken down his defenses to the point where he would talk to me for a decent length of time, I knew he was mine. Something I found interesting was the fact that almost every one of the dudes originally wanted to meet somewhere they knew well. I invariably had to remind them that they did not want anyone to know they were hanging with me, at which time they more often than not said that there was no way they would ever, “hang with me.” But, I had made my point. Then a funny thing would happen. The most outwardly poised person, at least within his group and around the school, would become a blubbering idiot. So, I began to take over, not that I hadn’t been in charge since the beginning.



I always suggested a place I had been going without problem since I was quite young and exploring things with my neighbors. You know what I mean by things by now, I am sure. There was this park right on Lake Erie that had a beautiful copse of trees near the northwestern end. In the summer, the leaves were so full it was as if you went into another world when within. It was a perfect place for the proverbial midnight rendezvous. I even had my own spot where in the past I had never been discovered.

What was He Thinking? >>>

Imagine, if you will, someone being pulled, off guard, by your left hand, no make that arm, snapping your neck like a cracked whip and stumbling into a house, of course tripping over the door railings at the same time. It was something out of a slapstick, with a little bit of porno thrown in, Three Stooges movie. I fell on to my dude, made him fall as well and couldn’t stop laughing for about ten minutes, nor could he. All the while he was trying to yell at me for being an asshole, his words not mine, and my dick was still hanging out of pants, still hard.

He asked what the fuck I was doing pounding on his door when we were being watched. I told him I thought he was just a bit more paranoid than he should have been. It had been over a week and I figured the “investigation” was no longer hot enough to be important to anyone. Also, and the truth of the matter, I really didn’t care. If I did would I have been doing what I was doing? Of course not!

We were still lying on the floor by the undraped sliders when I reached over between his legs and began making him hard, too. He returned the favor, as I had hoped, and we just did what we normally did right there on the floor in front of the windows. I was so sexually in tune that when I finally got my dick in him it took only about a minute or two before I nutted. I didn’t want it to end so I told him to fuck me. I had never let him do that before, but this time I wanted it, and I know he did, too. It took a while before I could convince him, but, after greasing his big thick cock with Cool Whip and licking it for a bit, I coaxed him into me. Wow, what an intense felling that was. I had been taken before, but never with as much tenderness and force at the same time. I know that sounds odd, but I can describe it in no other manner. He slowly entered then built up steam in much the same way a train would do. I actually had to push him back a few times because he was too thick and it hurt. That’s something coming from a slutty little bitch like me.

Anyway, when we were done I could see the fear all over his face. Although it was one of the most exhilarating experiences of my life, I believe it may have traumatized him to no return. He apologized about twenty times within a span of ten minutes. He kept holding and petting me as if I were a dying pet. He gave me what seemed like a hundred little kisses on the top of my head. He kept rubbing my back and neck; actually I was starting to get hard again and was just about ready for round two. Just at that moment, he leapt up and said he thought he had heard something outside. I, of course, put it off as his paranoia. That was until I saw the beam of a flashlight play across the back lawn.

He ordered me to get down, which of course I found funny, then pushed me to the carpet, kind of roughly. The look in his eyes was that of the proverbial deer in the headlights. He then nudged me, with his head like an annoying cat trying to get attention, toward the back of the house. Although I knew why he was so weirded out, I still couldn’t wrap my mind around the reason he was SO afraid. For God’s sake, he wasn’t doing anything wrong, at least morally. I was the immoral one, and anyone who knew me would attest to that fact, except maybe my mother (though I am not really sure about her either). He was scrambling for his clothes with one hand and shoving me with the other while I was attempting to move where he wanted me. I was still naked myself but didn’t care about my clothing. Instead of playing along with him I just got up and walked back to my room. I heard him gasp then felt the air change behind me.

Then next thing I knew he was right behind me breathing so hard it made my skin crawl. He whispered hoarsely that I would not ruin his life anymore and that I would either do as he said or not have a life of my own. You all know how that was going to go with a person like me, and it did. I turned around with more anger than I think I had ever been able to muster and pushed him back against the other wall. I told him that he would never threaten me again if he knew what was good for him. I couldn’t fathom that fact that he would even think he could say something like that to me especially when he was so afraid of the legal issues surrounding our psuedo-relationship. For fuck sake, man, I held all the cards. But, for only the second time in my life, the first was when my mother went after that woman in the store many years before; I saw pure hatred in someone’s eyes.

This was definitely the end of what we had, but I was far from done with him. In fact, what I had planned was just beginning to take shape in my mind. Originally I wanted to help bring him out of his self-imposed prison and introduce him to life without fear of consequence. Now, I wanted to show him what true fear was REALLY all about. Oh yes, that was what he would know. Feeling him shake with anger as I held my hands to his neck, I stared directly into his eyes and just shook my head. I removed my hands and slowly walked away, not even giving him the satisfaction of looking back. I went back to the family room, collected my clothes (noticed I was incredibly hard), beat off quickly (leaving my nut on the floor), got dressed and left.

I heard his feeble call at my back but, not that I was going to acknowledge him anyway, was distracted by the dark shape on the lawn near the end of the driveway. I was not a person who ever really had any relationship with fear and this case was no different. In fact, it was a pure case of curiosity. I know what you are all thinking, and it is often true, but I couldn’t find any reason to believe in such bullshit. (Curiosity killed the cat and all…) I walked, cautiously (I said I had no fear not that I was stupid) toward the figure and he suddenly jumped my way. I knew in an instant who it was but couldn’t wrap my mind around why he was there. It was my old college boy from about four years before.

It must have been the utter confusion in my eyes that made he say the he, “Got,” me. I told him that was not the case but he continued on in the vein for some time. When I finally got him to stop, there was no way I was going to convince him he hadn’t done anything to scare me, so to speak, I pointedly asked him what the fuck he was doing there. He said he wanted to see what I was doing lately because he missed our times together and that he had been watching me for a while. I found this somewhat disconcerting, not because I was worried about implications with my dude, because I was being followed and had absolutely no inkling it was happening. I made a mental note to be a bit more diligent with regard to watching my own back.

He told me that he had been around the college again for a while, he had just graduated with his BA, and heard one of the professors was hooked up with some young boy. He further told me he figured it was probably me and had made it a point to find out. I felt his jealousy peeking back up but was intrigued enough to prod him to continue. He told me that he had never lost me but hadn’t really wanted to be too close. People talked about me constantly; therefore, it was never difficult to follow my general movements. As I have already told you I was never one to be sneaky so I was not surprised. AND, I knew I had a reputation, which I had built for myself, that preceded me everywhere I went, within certain circles at least. I guess that was what I got for my ostentatious car as well as my, “I don’t give a fuck,” attitude, but I still didn’t give a fuck and never would.

I was getting tired of the background bullshit and pushed him toward what had just happened. We were still standing in the drive so I began working toward my car. I asked him what he was trying to do sneaking around like that. There was no way he could have thought someone wouldn’t notice him. He told me that his intention was to BE seen because he knew I was there. In fact he said he had seen the entire thing since I started wanking, his word, at the back slider-door. I have to say, I was impressed with his spy tactics.

The Proverbial Bump in the Road>>>

Everything being equal, I should have been quite happy with my situation, but, as you have no doubt already discerned (and if not you should be fucking ashamed of yourself), happy was not something I was ever going to be. Not, mind you, that I was ever Unhappy either. I just was, and that was always just perfectly fine with me. Anyway, my guy was doing everything he could to make me happy. He bought me everything I even mentioned. He took me places. We must have gone to K-Mart nearly four times each week, in fact some of the people there actually seemed to remember us and wonder what we were after next. But even stuff gets boring after a while. I needed something more.

My dude had definitely fallen in love with me, which is, at first, exactly what I wanted. I figured, rightfully so, that I could lead him around if I could make him fall for me. I also knew it would take nothing for me to make a man, who was already obviously looking, fall in love with my beautiful self. This, though, was beginning to go a bit too far. People were beginning to talk, which, honestly, didn’t mean a fucking thing to me. BUT mouthy people tended to stick their nosey selves into places where they did not belong. AND, guess what, they did it again.

I had to keep showing him what he wanted, all the while getting everything I possibly could. I had all or the latest game stuff, a couple of TVs, a HUGE stereo system, the latest Alpine in my car, even two VCRs so I could tape stuff from HBO. In fact, I was pretty ostentatious about my stuff. Everyone knew what I had, which, of course, sparked jealousy. The jealously started the proverbial tongue wagging. The tongue-wagging begat innuendo. The innuendo became rumor. The rumor was suddenly fact, AND fact, of course, is undeniable. My poor benefactor was soon ensconced in a whirlwind of popular distaste, distrust, and finally legal questioning.

What you all will hate about me, and as you know it doesn’t matter, is that I really didn’t care. In fact, I was getting a bit tired of his cloying ways and feeling it was time to move on. The dumb ass shouldn’t have let me get away with all he did, but that is the nature of the beast, I suppose. Love does odd things to people. Lucky me! I would NEVER have to worry about such a moronic emotion.

Not that I really think I have to, but I am going to tell you some of things that happened to my guy. My reasoning is just that some of our societal “checks and balances” do not actually HELP anyone. Truthfully, they vilify some of the very people that really ARE trying to help. It must be known that most people do fall in love AND that love finds you, you do not find love. Anyway, this is what got him into trouble.

He continued to want to do for me, regardless of what was happening around him. I heard his people saying things about our “relationship.” His family, though nice to me, at times to a fault, was not happy with the arrangement. In fact, I overheard one of them talking about how I was doing nothing but using him. Right on the mark, momma. Too bad your sonny-boy didn’t listen to you that time either, huh?

Because of his obsession, his work soon began to suffer. He was checking up on me at all times of the day and night. He began to drink more regularly than he had before, according to him it was because he was bored when I was not around, therefore needed something to do. I would call him whenever the urge hit, maybe 2 AM, maybe 5 AM, and, whenever the call came in, he would come to pick me up. Yes, I had a vehicle, but why should I drive when I could get him to do it? No matter what shape he was in, he would get into that car and come get me from wherever I was. I couldn’t have cared less about any consequences of his inebriation and obviously he didn’t either.

After my arrival we he would sit around while I played video games. He would watch as I made tapes I could sell to my acquaintances. I always tried to get him to play the games with me but he hated doing it so I finally gave up. Soon, the sun would be coming up and he would be SUPPOSED to be getting ready for work. Usually he did the normal morning routine, but he never followed through and ended up calling in to say he would not be there. Though he had enough money to do what he wanted, he still needed to keep up appearances as well as his built up prestige. I helped him ruin that.

Within about two months from when I had begun to get bored, the law became involved in a major way. Something had happened one day while I was at his house that caused me to have to go to the emergency room. I was basically staying with him and only him at that time and neither one of us thought about such a thing. My mother was around, but not always easy to find because she knew I was OK, not that I wasn’t always OK, but you know what I mean. So in this instance, I ended up with something wrong around my dick. I was actually scared for the first time in my life because my nuts began to swell up and soon they looked like a baseball. We went to the emergency room where he tried to explain our relationship. They immediately separated us and would not let him stay with me. Within five minutes there were cops at my bedside. It turned out I had an STD, probably from one of those fucking high school assholes, literally, I had been fucking around with on the side that had gone unchecked for a while.

While I was being interrogated, I found out later, he was, too. It turns out that the cops are nasty mother-fuckers, not that you didn’t already know that. They told me he was talking and they told him I was talking. The stupid thing they did, though, was use phrases and words both of us absolutely KNEW the other would not say. I also knew that there was not way I was going to let something that good slip away, besides, nothing we were doing was in any way wrong.

Regardless of what we said, the powers that be decided we could not see each other for at least 60 days. Can you imagine how fucking pissed-off I was? Probably not, because most of you think what we were doing was not right due to some fucked up moral code you have. That, of course is one of the reasons I HAD to write this down before…

The Social Services agency in the state had more power than GOD. I hate using such terminology, but it seemed to be not far from the truth. While nothing less than the Constitution of the United States of America, and I THOUGHT that was where I was, allows for certain freedoms and rights, the Department of Children and Family Services has some untoward authority to usurp the law of the land based upon supposition. They decided that we needed to be investigated to determine whether or not there was something going on. Mind you, my mother, and you already know as much about her as you need to know, didn’t have any problem, I had told them there was nothing wrong, and my dude had said there was nothing going on. The only thing they had was my STD, and, as I told you earlier, it didn’t come from him anyway. To make matters somewhat worse, he was so freaked out by the entire situation that he even went to his doctor to get himself checked out (I could have passed it to him but didn’t really want to tell him that.) but. Luckily, he came out clean.

As an aside, let me tell you about the test they do for this. I am going to preface this by saying it definitely ain’t for the squeamish. The first thing they tell you is that it will cause some discomfort. Well, that is the epitome of the understatement of the decade. Imagine, if you will, seeing someone take a Q-Tip and hold it near the tip of your dick. All at once you get the idea of what they are about to do and immediately it shrinks. Then, no numbing, no special tool, they slowly put it to the piss slit, slightly turning it like you would when cleaning your ears, and slide it in. Once in, they turn it around to do, what I do not know. Finally they pull it out, quickly and without fanfare, and put it in an envelope that probably goes to some lab somewhere. All the while, you are sitting there feeling more violated than you ever have before and are practically in shock as to the feeling still there. It, honest to God, took me about three weeks before I could even touch my cock without a slight feeling of revulsion. Oh, not at myself, of course, but at the memory of the, “invasion,” as I had come to call it.

Anyway, as you have probably surmised, this did not stop us. What it did was actually rejuvenate our previously slipping relationship. Me, being me, I was in no way going to let someone else tell me what I could and could not do. And he was so infatuated; he could let me go. We snuck around in the dead of the night. We would meet at out of the way places where he would get a hotel room and say we were working on a project. I was actually having a blast. This new clandestine shit was more exciting to me than that last couple of years had been. I was in a whole new world and was going to make the best of it while it lasted.

I would suggest some movie and he would pick me up at one of the stores or another. I might say I wanted to go swimming, so we would meet somewhere and go to the Eastgate Coliseum. There were time I just wanted to go back to his house and play my games, but he would never allow that, at least at first. I felt as though we were living some kind of James Bond existence. He was always looking behind him, in the rearview mirror, out the windows, everywhere. He was freaking out; I was having the time of my life. Soon, though, that too began to take its toll.

My dude’s problems soon began overtaking his life. He showed some major signs of a mental breakdown. The guy was beginning to become completely introverted and never wanted to be seem in public with me, one of the things I liked the most because he was so fucking white, while I was of an indeterminate background due to my, as I have told you before, beautiful skin tone. People had always given us odd looks, which he at first relished. Now they made him fear someone was “watching” us. Even people to whom he had spoken often, those few I had met, were on his list of folks who “probably said something to the cops.” I ALMOST felt sorry for his ass. One time, luckily I wasn’t there because I had finally convinced him to let me return and fuck him a couple of times a night, a sheriff’s deputy knocked on the door while his sister happened to be staying. That particular incident sent him into a hole I could from which I could not bring him back. He didn’t leave the house for at least a week, not even for me!

Though, as I said, I was pretty much done, this I took as a personal challenge. It was hard for me to believe that all this time I had spent on this guy was going to be fucked up by some stupid bitch putting her nose in a place it did not belong. I had pranced around seducing him by increments over the past year. We were finally at the point where every time I wanted a blowjob or to fuck, he just opened one orifice or another let me do my thing. I wouldn’t do anything for him, but I definitely got what I needed from him. He was pretty fucking good, too. I had to get that back before I left, damn it!

I began calling constantly. Most often he just let the answering machine pick up the call. Once every probably four or five times he would actually pick up. I tried to be nice to him, that didn’t work. I tried to be pushy, that didn’t work. I even got nasty, that didn’t work. My only other plan of attack had to be physical. I went to his house, leaving my car on the street because he had never allowed me to park it there. Now that I think back that was no better really because, as you already know, that car was not something someone would NOT notice, but I didn’t really give a shit. I rang the front doorbell and he didn’t answer, but I did get the feeling he was looking out. I then went around back to the slider. He didn’t come to that either, so I did what popped into my head (you can feel the humor building here because the words “popped” and “head” both have a dual connotation and both are being used). I unzipped my Levi’s and pulled out my dick. I began beating off right there and was hard in less than two seconds. Within the next three, I was being pulled in the door like something you would see in a movie.

Still Coming>>>

You all know where this should probably go, but I didn't want that to happen just yet. My sexuality and need for stimulation always ran at the forefront of my mind, but I needed to nurture this one so as not to scare the dude away. I let him put his hand on my knee and slowly move it up my leg. I even let him feel my hardness for a minute or two but then I got up and acted as though I had to piss. In fact, I went to the bathroom and completed his job, which, admittedly didn't take too long then asked him where I could sleep. He led me to a wonderful "spare" room with a four poster bed and all the electronic toys I could imagine. He brushed my forehead with is lips and left shutting the door. I told him to go ahead and leave it open while, I began to explore the things around me.

I kept a keen ear tuned to what was going on within the house as I acted as if I had become completely engrossed in my "play." He moved around cleaning up our slight debris and slowly walked by the room going, I would believe, toward his. He stopped just on the other side of the doorway and looked toward where I would lie, so, I decided to go to where he could see me. I slowly took off my shirt and pants, then turned to sit upon the bed. Knowing full well that my boxers were a peep show on their own, I pulled my legs up to my chest and let him see what he wanted to see. Then slowly slid my legs around, giving him just a bit more, and under the covers. I lied there looking at the ceiling and making plans for about twenty minutes before hearing the toilet flush and a door almost silently close. My plan was well under way.

A couple of hours after he went to bed, I got up and did some detective work. I wanted to find out all the things he had, without being to obtrusive. I found paintings, photographs, jars and jars of coins, money hidden in a cabinet, a check book with a sizable amount of money written in it, and closets full of nice clothes and shoes. I also found, upon re-entering the room I was in, $200.00 in cash on the pillow. I was obviously not quite as sneaky as him, but I was happy nonetheless. This was going to work better than I had hoped. I found a phone, called one of my younger companions and asked him to come get me. Within about twenty minutes I met him down the street at a gas station and we left to do a bit of mutual sucking. He then took me to his house where we slept until about noon.

I decided to use the money to go get a bit of weed then go hang out at the beach. The beach was and always will be a prime spot to find someone who might want a little bit of something in exchange for something else, so I figured it was worth a shot, besides, I really liked listening to the waves and just watching people as they tried to be good to one another. It was fucking hilarious to watch these guys trying to do whatever they could to make their girls happy and vice versa. What a waste of time. My world was much easier, and more exciting. Hell, as I've already told you, my life was all about me and everyone else be damned, at least after I got what I could from them. I had even heard, through the grapevine, that some of my conquests had run into a bit of trouble with the law due to our relationship, though nothing could be proven because that would have put a huge crimp in my ability to do what I liked. I would never admit to anything.

Its Coming>>>

I have to admit I was pretty excited about the whole thing. I mean, after all I had never been with someone who actually had things. Up until this point it was all about conquest and sex, now it was about the possible accumulation of "stuff." The dude wasn't too bad looking either which made it all that much better. In fact, if I were to actually "like" someone, he could have been that person. Too bad I was such a shallow motherfucker.

Anyway, the place was something I would have loved to have myself, and could feel myself trying to find a way to get. My guy was all too willing to show me around but was also very self-conscious about who might see us roaming. He avoided the windows, especially if there was a light near. He didn't want to go outside in the back. He didn't even want me to go back toward the front of the house. Instead, he directed me to his huge TV and the Atari game system. I wasn't a huge fan of the stuff but I was a whiz at Pac Man so was therefore hooked. While playing he fixed me food, my favorite, garlic butter sauteed shrimp and greasy deep fried french fries, and brought me something to drink. At first I thought it was something alcoholic but it turned out to be just a Pina Colada mix. It was superb. I even think he made it from scratch.

Soon he asked if I might rather watch a movie or something. I was in awe as he showed me a collection like I had never before seen. He had more video tapes than any movie rental place in all my travels, though they had admittedly not been very extensive. I sat on the couch and we put in one of my favorite comedies of all time, Up in Smoke with Chech and Chong. Oh, I know I was too young to have seen it originally, but my mother took me to the drive-in when I was real small and I always heard she and her friends quote various lines. As soon as it was playing, the guy came to sit with me. He didn't exactly sit right next to me but there was less than three feet between us. Every time something funny happened, he would put his semi-slap his hand near me and chuckle. On the third time he did that, I put my hand on top of his but he pulled away without looking at me. The next time he tentatively placed his hand near my thing and I put mine back on his. This time he stayed. I rubbed the top of his hairy left hand with my supple thumb and he slowly began to move his around so we were caressing each other palm to palm.