Date: Sat, 9 Jun 2012 21:01:27 -0600
From: dnrock@rock.com
Subject: Amoral Revisited 1

This is a fictional story, the people do not exist.  The places are more or
less real.  If you have a problem with gay male, cross generational sex or
sex of any kind, then I suggest you not read it.  If you have some legal
impediment to reading this type of story you know what to do.  Nifty has
the posting rights and I retain the copyright.  Please Note this is a
revised and corrected version of my original story Amoral.  The plot is not
changed but many errors and inconsistencies are now fixed.

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Amoral Revisited
by:  dnrock(rock@rock.com)

Prolog:

Most people would say I am not a very nice person.  Depending on your
definition, of course, I am probably not a very nice person.  If nice
people are the supposedly upstanding often hypocritical average persons I
meet on a regular bases, that is definitely not me.  Nice is the wrong
term, amoral is more appropriate.  Most would say I am a very bad person,
because I have slightly different standards than they do.  I think less
hypocritical.  I, of course, think little about what others would say.  I
do have feelings and I do have a firm moral code, but it is just a bit
different than most.

I left home at 18, which was a few days after graduating high school.  I
found myself on the Gulf coast, a few weeks later.  I went to work for one
of the biggest and most hard assed biker gangs in the area.  I did not know
that at the time.  I was hired to work at one of their front businesses.
In six months I had lucked into this drug running stuff.  My boss after two
weeks, insisted I pretend to resign and go back home.  I did and returned
having taken on a new identity.  New name, passport, Social Security
number, the whole nine yards.  Then he rehired me and introduced me to his
biker associates.

I became a drug runner/distributor.  I only did the field work: picking the
stuff up and getting it to the chapters, filling their orders and
collecting the cash.  I would supply the biker gangs along the Gulf Coast.
My boss had organized the mechanics of the operation.  He was killed by a
rival gang and his other two partners wound up behind bars.  The whole
front operation fell to me, since I was the only one who knew the details
of how it worked.

Since I was new, no one outside of the brass even knew who I was.  Lucking
into this situation is how I amassed so much money in such a short time.  I
was the only one who knew the magic numbers and the banks involved.  Being
a business, I did keep records and they were in a safe place.  The real
owners liked how I reorganized the operation, making it safer, much more
efficient and offering them even greater protection and higher profits.

I was very well paid and meticulous in making sure my share of product sale
profit was exactly as agreed to.  My take was a percentage of the net.  The
legitimate part of the business was operated at a reasonable profit.  I
made sure we had just enough legitimate charter business that our special
charter runs, for imaginary clients, were not noticed.

I knew that what I did was not only illegal but had a major hand in
destroying many lives.  I just didn't care, still don't.  I only cared for
my family: mom, dad, brother and myself.  My whole life was "sex, drugs and
rock and roll" as the old saying goes.  At 22, I had developed a solid
reputation for dependability and ruthlessness.  I was not mean but was a
hard nosed, no nonsense, businessman with no second chance to fuck up.

If someone got hurt by not following the rules, too bad.  By 25, I had
amassed quite a pile of money.  Most of which I kept in off shore banks.
That's when things started to go south for me.  It all happened in the
space of about 24 hours.  It all happened three days before Katrina hit.
It turned out to be a bit of a good thing for me.  I sure didn't see it
that way, at the time.


1.  My Story and I'm Sticking To It

I was getting ready to make a small delivery at a fishing port just east of
Mobile.  I was piloting the company's boat, and we were on the beginning of
a major delivery run.  We knew the storm would not be too long off and had
planned to run east into Florida.  We were carrying mostly Coke.  I know
one of my boys used hard drugs, but like me, the other didn't use at all.
I could see what this stuff did to people, and I didn't want any of that
crap in my system.  Oh, I don't ride either.  Not that I don't like it or
am afraid of it, just no time.  I don't smoke and don't like the feeling of
being drunk.  I guess I am a bit of a control freak.

That is an understatement, I am a big time control freak.  My only
addiction is sex.  I control myself and as much around me as absolutely
possible.  My old boss had taught me to keep a low profile and just do my
"legitimate" job.  Unless you needed the services of my company's boat you
would not know me or my name.  I liked it that way.  I owe him for that
guidance.  It is a shame he was not able to follow it himself.  Maybe he
knew he was marked and didn't want me to fall into the same trap.

We pulled into the small port at night and went ashore.  For all anyone
knew we were just pleasure boaters, out for a little evening fun.  When we
got to the delivery house we could hear some kind of a row inside.  The
buyer was in a bad mood for sure.  My drug boy pulled out his 9 mm and we
entered.  What I found turned even my amoral gut.  The man's woman was
laying on the floor in a pool of blood.  He had obviously beaten her, very
badly.  When he made a move toward me, Tony shot him.  The asshole went
down like a load of bricks, right into a chair, one of those overstuffed
kind.  Tony freaked out and just began shaking. He needed a fix but that
would just have to wait.

I pulled on my latex gloves.  We always use them when handling product, to
make sure we leave no prints or have any traces on our hands.  I took the
gun from his hand and after doing my best to clean off the prints,
including the shells; I found the empty shell casing and using his fingers,
put dead owner's prints on the spent one, dropping it where I found it.  I
also put his prints on the unspent casings and clip as well as the gun.  I
had seen enough CSI type drama to have a clue.

I took the dead woman's hand and wrapped it around the grip and shot him
again.

Just as we were about to leave I saw a flash of movement, under the bed, in
the back of the room.  It was a low bed so I figured it must be a child.
Couldn't leave witnesses now could we.  I reached under the bed and pulled
out a small boy, I thought about ten, but he turned out to be twelve.  He
was terrified to say the least.  So was I, it's just he showed it.  The
other two were cool and professional.  They had always been good for my old
boss was a good judge of people and he only hired the best, me included.
The one thing I knew was, we had to get the hell out of Dodge and the boy
had to come with us.

I didn't even ask his name or anything.  I just scooped him up and looked
around for some kid clothing.  My other companion, called Jacks, grabbed a
small hoody.  The boy was clinging to me like a leech and I had to tell him
several times he was safe. I promised not hurt him, before he let go enough
to pull on the hoody.  As soon as it was on he clamped on me again, so I
had to carry him.  The boys made sure we had our product and didn't leave
any obvious trace of us having been in the house.

When we were again out to sea, which was now running a bit on the high
side, with the impending storm, I managed to get all four of us into a
planning circle.  Now I don't give a fuck if someone dies because he
deserves it.  That man deserved it, customer or not.  Sure he always paid
well but the bastard had no right to beat that poor woman to death.  I mean
if you're going to kill someone make it quick and simple.  Make it as
private as possible and don't draw attention to yourself and your
associates, i.e. me.  For sure don't come after me or my crew unless you
can deal with the consequences.  He did and paid the price.  The kid was a
whole other story.

I was not sure just what to do with him but I had promised I would not hurt
him.  Having given my word to him, I had no choice but to keep it.  Even us
amoral bastards have standards.  Mine are real high too.  All I have is
trust.  If I can't trust you, I'll have nothing to do with you.  If I give
my word it is my law, if you can't trust me then you should have nothing to
do with me.  I don't like phonies and I don't like pretenders, can't trust
them.  I may be amoral but I am fair and trustworthy, and I only deal with
fair and trustworthy people.  Well as fair and trustworthy as they come in
this business.

"Okay son, now it is time for you to tell us your name," I commanded.  He
looked down and only pressed his face into my chest harder.

"I'll get him to talk," Tony blurted out.  That only strengthened his grip.

"No Tony, I gave my word we would not harm him."

"Well I didn't mean that, I mean I know how to talk to kids.  I have a
couple of little sisters remember."

I didn't.  In fact I try not to remember personal stuff about people I do
illegal business with. That doesn't always mean you don't.  It's just that
you try.

I brushed his hood back and let my fingers move through his fine blond
hair.

"My name is Slats, this is Jacks and that big ugly one is Tony."  He
relaxed just a bit and mumbled something.  Jacks said he couldn't hear it.

"Mom always called me Sandy."

"Okay Sandy, how old are you," Jacks' asked?

"I'm twelve."

Okay, he is old enough to kind of know what is going on around him.

"Was that your mom back in the house?" I asked.

He didn't answer but just started crying, balling his little eyes out.  I
can understand that, I know I was some upset when my parents were killed.
I lost most of my family then and didn't have to watch it happen.  Anyway,
after he settled down a bit I started again.

"Who was the man?"

Sure, I know his name and stuff like that; he had been a client for several
years now.  He headed up the local biker outlaws in this poor wretched
place.  Not this place the place we were getting away from.

"Did you see him kill her?" I asked.

He nodded his head, yes.

"Did you see what we did to him?"

"No, I heard the shot and then looked out.  Saw you put the gun in mom's
hand and shoot him again.  Thanks, he was a real mean bastard."

"What was he to you," Tony asked?

"Mom's current boyfriend, about a year now."

"Did he hurt you," I asked?

He nodded his head again pulling himself back tight against my chest.

"Not this time, she tried to stop him."  Now he was crying again.

"Well I'm glad I shot the cock sucker," Tony blurted out, "Any man that
beats children and women deserves what he got."

Now that is Tony's morality talking.  Not me, from my view he only deserves
the full punishment the law provides.  All Tony did was carry out a
punishment fitting of the crime.  It was natural justice, I guess, and
saved the state all that expense.  Even us bad asses do the right thing
sometimes.  I guess that makes me or us an antihero(s.

While all this was on the go, Jacks checked the auto pilot and started
getting some food together.  The smell of his cooking, if you can call it
that, frozen pizza in the microwave, managed to get Sandy's attention.  He
ate as much as me.  I guess the kid was hungry.  All we had on the boat to
drink, for a kid that is, was Pepsi.  He didn't seem to mind.  Tony went
into the crew cabin; I figured to shoot up.

Jacks checked our progress again and came back in.  Sandy was still on my
lap but now facing Jacks and not clinging to my chest.  The little leech
was not about to move and my legs were going just a bit numb.

"Got any relatives Sandy," Jacks inquired with an off hand sound to his
voice?

"None I am allowed to visit.  Mom told me never to have anything to do with
them."

He wiggled a bit pressing his pert ass into my crotch.  I began to bone up.
Never had sex with a boy this young before or a girl either.  I have no
hang up about sex with kids, as long as it is not rape and does no physical
or emotional harm.  Sex is one of the few things in life that is good.  Sex
that is forced is not, sex that is shared or wanted, is.  What I learned a
long time ago was, life isn't just about you.  You may be the center of
your own universe but others are the center to theirs.  Life is about how
those universes interact.

"Why is that Sandy?"  I asked.

"Mom told me her big brother raped her and her parents said nothing about
it.  She said, her dad would fill in for him when he was not around and her
mother said nothing.  I am the result of that incest and when she wanted an
abortion they refused, so she had me and ran away."

The lad was showing signs of tiredness, so I suggested he go to bed.  Tony
returned to the main cabin.  He was a little out of it but not blasted.  I
got up with Sandy still clinging to me and took him to my cabin.  He did
not want to let me go. I explained, I was needed on the bridge and that
once we set our night watch, I would come and sleep too.  I undressed him
and saw first hand the old bruises on his body.  I think it was then, while
standing naked and cold, looking up with the saddest blue eyes imaginable,
that he captured my heart.  All my philosophy and all of my better
judgement, just floated out the porthole, right there and then.

"You said you wouldn't hurt me Slats.  You're the first man that ever said
that to me, that wasn't trying to get something."

"Yes son, I said that and I mean it too."

I could see he was shivering, so I quickly ran my hands over his body to
stimulate some heat flow.  His first reaction was to stiffen but he just as
fast relaxed, realizing I meant no harm.  I dug out one of my extra large
Tee shirts and he slipped it on.  Taking his hand, I lead him to the head
and watched him pee.  He looked up and smiled at me.  This kid was doing
what no other person has ever done, get to me on an emotional level.  I
thought I was this big, tough, outlaw, that didn't need anyone but myself.
I was beginning to wonder if I was living in some kind of fantasy world.
You know, like this pretend, reality TV crap.

He trusted me, and he depended on me.  He also looked mighty funny in my
Tee shirt, come night shirt, with his spindly little legs and arms sticking
out of the bright yellow cotton.  I pulled back the covers and he jumped
in.  After making sure he was secure, for some reason, I have no idea where
it came from, I bent over and kissed his forehead.  The smile on his face
was reward a hundred over for what was a small gesture of kindness.  I
hadn't kissed anyone, especially a child like that, since I was a kid
myself.  My mom and dad were not shy people and they were free with
affection to me and my kid brother.  I guess I never really forget those
lessons.

I turned off the main light.

"I'll leave this one on for tonight okay."

"Okay."

Once back in the main cabin we three had a conference.  These two were my
employees but they did have some say in things.  They were on the line just
like me and our collective asses would be grass, if we got caught.  Murder
and kidnapping on top of drug running, well I guess in for a penny, in for
a buck.  Nothing was resolved, except Tony would take the night watch.  I
assured them the kid would never knowingly rat us out, I was certain of
that.  We saved his life and took care of the bastard that wasted his mom.
We were his heroes and protectors.  The important thing was not to ever see
him in a position to even inadvertently do it.  I would work on a plan that
involved keeping my word to him and protecting our butts.

Small craft warnings would probably be up by the morning.  Jacks was not
comfortable working with Tony any longer, that I could tell.  I was not all
that fond of either of them.  As employees they had always done well by me
and the company.  It was just time for a change.

I began formulating a plan, after hearing the latest weather forecasts for
the Florida panhandle area.  I hoped that our deed would not be discovered
or if discovered, not be acted upon, until after the coming storm had
passed.

Sandy was asleep when I returned but it was not an easy sleep for him.  I
understood that, I was not surprised either.  The boy had been kicked in
the nuts and the head at the same time.  He saw his mother murdered, after
a fashion, saw her killer being killed and been kidnapped by three
strangers, of dubious character.  He did not know the half of how dubious
we were.

I must have been exhausted.  When I woke in the morning I found myself in
my bunk with a small blond head on my shoulder.  Sandy's night shirt was
pulled up to his chest.  His stiff little penis poked into my ribs and my
hand was resting on his pert, naked butt.  His eyes flashed open, as I
moved my now numb arm.

"I, uh, I," he stammered.

Kissing his forehead again, I assured him I did not mind at all.  I was
glad he felt comfortable enough to come to me for support.  I wanted to do
and say much more to my little pixie but restrained myself.  First, I
wanted to kiss him many more times and not on the forehead.  Second, I
wanted to explore his thin, almost anorexic body with various parts of my
own.  I wanted to have sex, lewd, lustful sex with the lad.  I have no idea
why this boy had suddenly inspired feelings I didn't even know I possessed.
What ever it was, this kid was turning my crank hard, very hard.

I kind of knew what it was too, way back in the darkest corners of my mind,
but I was just not ready to admit it.  He looked a lot like my little
brother did when he was 12.  His eyes and expressions said trust and
adoration, just like Andy's.  I was never one to discriminate when it came
to sex.  Right from the get go, boys and girls turned my crank and turned
it hard.  I didn't care where it came from as long as I got lots of it.

We never had children on this boat, so I figured there would be no kids
clothing.  To my surprise, when I dug into some of the boxes stored below,
I found some old swimming suits and Tee shirt, left by the previous owner.
In the boxes were several child life jackets too.  I helped Sandy into this
little speedo, which was just a tad to big and the oversized kid Tee.  He
looked almost normal.  Jacks ditched all his clothing except his shoes.
After we had our morning food, more pizza and lots of coffee, we put Sandy
to watching TV with a head set, so we could talk.  If he didn't know, he
could never possibly say.

My plan was a lot clearer now that I had slept on it.  Since I had none at
all before, way clearer.  The only trick was getting these two to buy in.
In short, I was paying them out.  They would go ashore and get lost, very
lost, permanently lost.  I would take the boat to a different port, further
south in Florida and dispose of it.  The company would be no more.  My
share holders/owners would be informed and could divide the assets as they
saw fit.  Sandy and I would also get lost.  So lost no one would ever be
able to find us.  So lost, we would be no more.

I made a coded text message to our customer.  The code I used was not only
for the pickup of goods but also men.  They would come prepared.  Not
completely trusting anyone, I gave both Jacks and Tony hand guns that were
clean, and essentially untraceable.  No real money would change hands, the
boys were paid out by company checks for their services as able bodied
seamen.  Their share of the profit would go straight to their accounts in
our off shore bank.  Having only a small amount of cash, being robbed was
not an issue.  I hoped they would ditch the weapons in the sea, when they
knew they were safe.  It is not that I didn't trust our buyers; they were
all bikers in the network, like the company was.  One never knows about
these things.  Once settled, they went about getting ready, packing up
their gear and so on.

The product was kept in special containers, sitting in clear view but
cleverly disguised and hermetically sealed.  When we got to the rendezvous
point we would deploy fishing lines.  I joined Sandy at the TV only to have
a lap full of boy.  It was nice just sitting with him and doing all but
nothing for a while.  Sandy's smooth body became my object of attention.  I
let my hands drift over his body, toying with his lean form.  This seemed
comforting to him and I suspected he had been bereft of physical contact.
I know he was emotionally crushed and I could take full advantage of this.
I would too.

No matter what he had been told, he would willingly give his body to my
lust with only a little effort on my side.  I needed his loyalty to me and
figured, the combination of tender attention and man boy sex, was the way
to achieve it.  The quicker he was trained to respond to my advances the
more pleasure he and I would share.  That sharing would reinforce our
mutual dependence on each other.  This works both ways, we become dependent
on each other; me on getting sexual fulfillment, him on receiving security
and care.  A type of symbiotic relationship that binds us physically and
emotionally.  Children are survivors; they will do what ever is required to
do so.  The trick is to make it pleasurable and rewarding.

For Sandy this would be keeping me sexually satisfied and keeping his and
my deepest secret.  For me, I would provide him with all the security and
support he would need.  He would trade love and affection for that.  I
needed to be secure in the knowledge that he would never tell anyone what
had happened in that house.  When I kidnapped him, I accepted a
responsibility for him.  I had not counted on him reaching into my so well
protected soul, stirring emotions I thought long dead and some I didn't
even know I had.

It was so strange for me to be completely captivated by one so young and so
dependent.  I had been letting my hands dance slowly over his legs, arms
and torso.  I was easily under his shirt being so large and my fingers did
a little dance over every bit of exposed skin.  Sandy seemed to like this,
pressing his back tighter into my chest and his butt tighter into my
crotch.  When I absentmindedly stopped he would gently reach for the
offending hand and encourage more.

"Please don't stop," he whispered.

I was not sure if that was for me or just some general request.  I took it
to be for me.

After we got the fishing gear deployed I sat him down and explained what he
needed to do.  We were expecting another boat along side.  Jacks and Tony
would go ashore with them.  The people on the other boat must not know he
is with me, so he must hide in my cabin until I come to get him.  They
promised never to tell anyone about what happened or that he was ever on
this boat.  He promised never to tell either or that he had ever met or
knew them.  I doubt they believed the boy even when they said they did.  I
had already given them assurances he would never rat them out.  I would see
to it.  They knew I would, since I would also be implicated and since I was
in it as deep as they, if Sandy ratted on them it would be on me too.  They
had no way to know what would become of Sandy and neither of them cared all
that much.  I know them well enough, and they are not interested in doing
any harm to the boy.  Shooting someone attacking them is one thing.
Harming Sandy or me was not on their agendas.  They only cared for their
own skin and in Tony's case his next fix.

We kept listening to the news to see if Sandy's mother and her boyfriend,
our former client, had been found yet.  Nothing so far.  Katrina was fast
approaching and news of that and the preparations seemed to be all that was
being talked about.  If we were lucky, the winds and rains would destroy
any evidence linking us.  If Sandy was lucky he would be reported missing
and presumed dead.

Sandy liked fishing.  We rigged up a child sized pole but he didn't catch
anything.  Neither did we.  The swells were picking up now and we could see
the clouds building to the west and heading toward us.  Jacks spotted the
client boat first and I sent Sandy down to my cabin.  Telling him to lock
the door and only to come out when I said it was okay.

"Do you think those men on the other boat will want to hurt me."

"No son.  I just do not want them to even know you are here.  They think I
am alone, so let's just let them think that, okay."

Sandy was reluctant but he went.  I'm sure he was glued to the port hole.
The last thing I wanted these people to know was we had a boy along with
us.  They knew enough about us three to know that would be unusual.  None
of us had close families.  Unusual would make them nervous, very nervous.

Since I intended to get lost, I didn't need anyone knowing I was traveling
with a child.  I knew buyers from Key West through Galveston; they would
all be less than pleased to find me off of everyone's radar.  Slats
(Silvan) Slater, the character I created, will be no more.  I was very
lucky, I had never had my fingerprints taken so that name could not be
directly connected to me.  I had gotten the name from a grave yard in the
next town, to where I grew up.  That child's birthday was close to mine so
it was easy.  My real name was only known to my family, most of which were
killed in a horrific traffic accident, the people I grew up with and my now
dead boss & mentor.  I had kept my old family name, which is Maki (hill in
Finn) in reserve.