Date: Thu, 24 Apr 2008 13:56:09 +0200
From: Sebastian Oakland <sebastian.oak@gmail.com>
Subject: Badges, boys, and bastards - Complete short story

This is a fictitious account of the relationships, loving and sexual,
between adult men and teenage boys.  It is utter fantasy, so do not indulge
in this behaviour if it risks your health or freedom.  Neither should you
read this if you're not supposed to.  This is my first attempt at writing a
short story in my second language, so please forgive the mistakes of a
novice and a non-English speaker.  If you liked it please send a note
saying so to sebastian.oak@gmail.com, if you'd like to point out
improvements, you're very welcome.

Badges, boys, and bastards
a short story by
Sebastian Thomas Oakland


One

Fourteen-year-old William sat on the windowsill of his bedroom at his
parents' house.  His right foot touched the carpeted floor while his left
leg dangled two storeys high over a smooth lawn he himself mowed every
weekend.  He held a cigarette on his naked knee; it glowed softly in the
quiet night.  He watched as the neighbour across the road pulled into his
driveway, and get out of the car. He saw the uniformed young man walk to
his front door, and before unlocking it, turn around and look over his car
and the peaceful street, finally resting his gaze on the high, darkened
window across the street. William's slender frame remained motionless.  The
man saw little more than a shape, almost feline, perched and watching.
William saw as the man finally went into the house and light inside
announced that he was at his evening chores.

Tonight is the night, William thought.  He had contemplated, and planned,
his intentions carefully for a few weeks, and tonight he was finally going
to go through with it.  Confidently he stepped back into his dark room,
putting out the butt and hiding it carefully in a little jar he kept in the
bottom drawer of his desk for that purpose.  He stepped across the unlit
room and picked up the clothes he had laid out hours before in anticipation
of the young officer's arrival.  It was a pair of his favourite pyjamas, a
Superman t-shirt and bright red briefs he got for his tenth birthday.  He
had already outgrown the outfit two years before, and as he pulled the
shirt over his head it clung to his body like bright blue skin.  He never
threw the undersized PJ's out and sometimes, just sometimes, on occasions
like this, he would take them out and put them on.  He had heard his mother
pour her last cocktail and take it to her bedroom hours ago.  The coast was
clear; there would be no questions on his way out the front door and across
his meticulous lawn.

	Michael hated the late shifts.  Not so much the work, he loved
being a policeman, he felt like he was really contributing, really doing
some good.  But coming home to an empty house this late at night killed
him.  His wife and he had recently separated; she said that she could not
see true commitment in his eyes. He had no idea what she meant.  She was
pleasant enough, even if not the most exciting partner in the world.  At
least she was some company in the evenings, and a warm body to curl up to.
But he was alone now, and had to find another way to relax before he could
even think of going to bed.  He strolled to his sparse kitchen and poured a
glass of ice tea, with two slices of lemon.  He would wind down in the tub.
Even if the latest shift had no exceptional incidents, his constant state
of alertness took its toll on his body.  A hot bath would do the trick.  As
he left the faucets running he went to his bedroom to remove the sleek blue
uniform.  His fingers, by their own volition, unfastened only the top two
and lower most buttons on his shirt.  The rest stayed fastened as he pulled
the shirt over his head, revealing a torso only slightly lighter than his
tanned arms and face.  Michael was beautifully constructed.  His fully
mature body drew second glances as he patrolled the sidewalks and parks of
the city.  He removed the silver shield from the breast pocket minding a
prick from the sharp pin at the back.  He chucked the day old clothes to
the floor as he removed them, and strode naked onto the bathroom tiles,
moist from the rising steam.  The water was hot, nearly scalding hot, but
it reached his soul and he felt fine as he submerged his head; he thought
he heard the doorbell ring.

	William stood outside the front door from which Michael had earlier
surveyed the neighbourhood.  A harsh doormat bit into the soles of his
naked feet.  Blood, as red as the tight red briefs that left his thighs
exposed, trickled over the ivory skin on his shin where he had been
deliberately picking at a scab.  He was waiting to hear the running water
stop and when it did, slowly counted to two hundred.  He was scared of what
might happen as he raised his hand to press the doorbell, but he pressed it
nonetheless.  A clear chime in two distinct notes came through the door.
Nothing happened. Maybe the man did not hear it, maybe it was better that
the man did not hear it.  After all, why would a man as striking and potent
as the police officer bother with a boy like William?  The man would
probably see his intent immediately and laugh at him for being so
audacious, or even worse; the man might beat him to a teenaged pulp!  This
was wrong, he shouldn't have come, he should have stuck to the people and
the places he knew, and knew how to control.

"This was a mistake!" he whispered to himself, "Get the hell out of here!"
He turned around and stepped down from the little porch that led to the
door.  He had not completed his first stride when a metallic scrape and the
sound of hinges cracked through the quiet night like thunder. Fuck, fuck,
fuck, William thought as he froze, I'm dead!

	What Michael saw outside his front door took his breath away.  He
held the door open with his one hand, while trying to keep the small towel
he had hastily wrapped around his slim, solid waist, from coming undone
with the other.  It was the boy from across the street, the one that
peculiarly mowed his lawn every weekend at the same time Michael himself
did.  This was the closest he had ever been to the boy, and for the first
time he saw what the boy's features were really like, and it were these
features that left him breathless.  It was without a doubt the face of a
boy.  No hair could be detected on the pale cheeks, nor was there any
stubble on the strong, yet subtle chin.  The face was perfectly smooth and
surrounded by a frame of longish blonde hair.  Two brilliantly blue eyes
watched him from under a parted fringe. It was the face of a child, but the
eyes had the will of a man in them.  He was beautiful.  Apart from his
bunkmate at the academy years before, Michael had never been attracted to
another man, yet this young man-child, who had nothing feminine about him,
stirred a forgotten feeling in the pit of his stomach.  The boy was indeed
beautiful, about a head and a half shorter than Michael; he had a lean and
muscular build, like an athlete.  The tight blue t-shirt came up close to
the pale throat where an artery could be seen pulsing just beneath the
smooth skin. The red ribbing of the shirt rode high and tight on his upper
arms, and the biceps they could not contain could be traced under the silky
smoothness, visible blue lines on his lower arm suggested that pulsing
veins would one day be found there.  The triangular "S" was stretched wide
by William's developing chest and the peaks of his pectorals were visible
as hardened nipples on either side of the symbol.  Like his sleeves, the
bottom part of his shirt also lacked the capacity it once had.  Michael
could see part of a shallow belly button peek from over a downward sloping
plain of unblemished ivory, culminating in a V shape which disappeared
under the rim of bright red briefs, as small as the t-shirt.  The bulge,
covered in cotton confirmed that this was indeed a boy, and a very lucky
boy at that!

	William remained frozen solid.  He kept quiet as the man stood
hesitantly in the door.  The very wet and nearly naked man said nothing; he
seemed preoccupied with looking at William, rather than talking to him.
The man's physique held little surprise for William.  He could move like
cat in the dark and had used this skill to watch his prey on some late
nights.  His prey however appeared more dangerous now, and seemed to be
turning on him.  William's mind was racing, Stick to the escape plan, he
thought, and get the hell back to your room!  He opened his mouth and said;

"Hi... um, Sir?  I'm William," he twisted around and pointed at his house,
"from over there."  Michael was still looking at the boy when he heard the
clear alto voice.  He wanted to reply but his voice stuck in his throat, he
swallowed once and said huskily:

"Hi William, I know who you are."  William suddenly remembered the slight
graze on his shin.  It had stopped bleeding and had already started forming
a fresh scab.  He lifted his lithe leg and held his knee and ankle,
balancing on the other.

"We've run out of band-aids and I had bumped my shin and...um, I was
wondering if you maybe had one for me, but if you don't, that's okay, well
good night."  He dropped the leg he held out to Michael, turned sharply and
started away when the husky voice caught up with him.

"Sure I've got one, why don't you come inside."  Michael was starved for
company.  Even if just a boy, William would give him some contact with
humanity apart from work, even if just for a couple of minutes.  William
faced the man again and took a moment to look him over; the complete plan-A
came back to his mind.  Maybe the man wasn't dangerous after all, and this
was a golden opportunity, after all, he had been working this scheme for a
long time.

"Thanks a lot... um, Sir." He said and moved toward the door unhurriedly.

William walked into a comfortable, sparsely decorated, yet stylish living
room.  There was a great big stuffed couch, a nice coffee table with body
building magazines, and a big screen television complete with surround
sound system.  He turned back to catch Michael looking at his round
buttocks while tightening the small towel, adjusting it lower and more
comfortably.  Michael blushed when William saw him stare; they were nice to
look at.

"Make yourself at home.' said Michael, this time it was William's turn to
be dumbstruck.  It was not the man that claimed his attention, but instead
the blue police cap and gun belt that hung on great big metal hooks by the
side of the door.  In his mind they were objects of power.  A man that wore
those could do anything he wanted to, and for those objects, the holder of
power was Michael, the beautiful man that finally drew his gaze away from
the cap and belt and fixing it on those eyes.  It was definite, he wanted
those powers and that man, and the complete plan-A was at play.  Michael
did not notice the subtle cues that meant William had slipped into the
mindset of a hunter.  He did not realise that the way William tilted his
head forward and to the side, and through a blonde tussle of hair fixed
those shimmering eyes on his own should warn him of impending adventure.

"Are those yours?" he asked, pointing at the hooks by darting a quick look
at them.

"Who else's you think?" Michael asked grinning.  He was glad William
noticed his two most prized possessions. "Do you want to try the cap on?"
He reached for the cap and came towards Michael to rest it on his head.
William blocked the gesture and gently took the cap from Michael's hands.

"It's yours, you put it on."  He reached up slowly and placed the cap on
the taller man's wet hair.  His fingers lingered on the brim as he admired
the shiny shield and then lowered his eyes just enough to lock eyes with
the man again.  They were green eyes, with a small wreath of gold cresting
the iris.  He could feel his attraction for this man like a flame in his
chest, which rapidly burnt downward.  He felt his own young dick give a
slight twitch.  William stepped away, and with reverence took the belt down
too.  He held it in his hands looking at the leatherwork for a moment.
From it was suspended a baton, a pair of handcuffs and a holster containing
a pitch black 38 Special.

	Michael looked after the man-child.  Was this his imagination?  Was
he so starved for company that his mind was playing tricks on him?  He
could have sworn the boy was making a move on him.  He realized what
William was holding on to.

"Whoa there, Buddy!"  He warned.  Instead of replacing the belt on the hook
William cracked a smile.

"Relax!" he said, "I'm not going to do anything."  Michael was surprised
when the teenager stepped up to his backside.  He was not surprised when he
felt him reach around his thin waist and attempt to fix the buckle blindly.
He watched the small hands at work and was impressed that the little guy's
tight arms could hold up the heavy thing this long.  A delightful sensation
drew attention to his back. The boy was indeed tiring; he had rested his
cheek on Michaels back and the human contact felt like the hot water he had
just gotten out of.  Michael was unconscious of his own semi-tumescence.
When the buckle was finally done the teen stepped back around and faced
Michael again.  He looked up and down and Michael recognised the admiration
he himself once had when he saw them.  William stepped up closer and
reached for the cap and belt simultaneously.  Michael looked on as William
investigated them in turn.  He watched as William's eyes met his own again,
and he felt when the boy shifted a hot palm from the leather around his
waist to the skin of his abdomen.  An equally exquisite sensation travelled
down the side of his face as two graceful fingers traced the line of his
ear, down his jaw and came to a halt on his chin.  The touches were good,
he closed his eyes to revel in the luxury of it when his senses snuck up,
and made him suddenly uncomfortable.

"Enough with the tools, Buddy.  Let's take a look at that wound of yours."
He broke from William's near embrace, replaced the cap and belt on the
hooks, and disappeared down the passage to find some antiseptic and a
band-aid.  He found himself alone in the steamy bathroom again.  As he
closed the medicine cabinet he caught his own reflection in the mirror and
saw the eyes that constantly baited William's sight.

"What's the matter with you?"  he asked himself, "You're not that kind of
guy, are you?"  A long forgotten memory flashed in his mind.  "Besides if
you were, he'd be jailbait."  He lingered a while longer, his dick was
threatening to become fully erect and his current outfit, well...  He could
not go back just yet.

	William had started wandering through the house.  His intentions
may have been mature, but his curiosity about most things, was still that
of a child.  The decorations were sparse and things of interest few.  He
was delighted to find a pair of Michael's briefs lying in the passageway.
He found the kitchen and lifted himself onto the counter, springing goose
bumps from the sudden chill under his butt.  That is where Michael found
him, sitting on a high counter, his torso resting backward on his arms, his
shirt had pulled up even more and his entire bellybutton could now be seen.
His legs were ajar, jutting his ample crotch forward.

"I sure appreciate this, Sir!"  he beamed at the man holding the first aid
stuff.

"Your welcome," came the reply, "And call me Michael, if you want to."
Michael tilted his head in targeting pose again. Call me Michael already,
this will be easier than I thought, a voice in his mind giggled.  Michael
stepped closer to William and took a hold of the offending leg lifting it
slightly to see the scrape.

"Well that doesn't look so bad, Soldier."  He brought the antiseptic spray
closer.  "Now this may sting a bit," he warned.  Even before the sanitizing
spray hit:

"Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!" William yelped, he gave an exaggerated but soft kick
upward and his toes touched Michael's balls tenderly under the towel.

"Watch out there, Little Buddy!" Michael shifted out of reach only
slightly. Perfect! One point to me!  His move, the voice in William's head
giggled again.  Michael finished up with the band-aid and found himself
reluctant to let go of the silky calve.  He could not help but wonder if
William's stomach would feel as soft as the hairless skin lying in his
hand.

"If you want to, Michael, you can kiss it better."  It was undeniable; the
boy was indeed coming on to him.  The fault would be his, but the blame
went to the boy.  "My mom used to do that."  As if by its choice he felt
his arm lift the leg even higher and bending slightly brought the offending
limb to his lips.  As he imagined here too the skin was hot. He dragged the
inside of his lower lip across the surface lightly as if to taste the boy.
He let go hesitantly.  He straightened out and stood in front of the boy
who had transformed into a much more self-confident young man in a matter
of minutes.  But still, could he be wrong?  A few seconds of silence passed
between them.  William was first to break the quiet.

"If you get to go without a shirt, so do I!"  He crossed his arms in front,
grabbed a hold of the shirt and still sitting down pulled it over his head.
His chest was as fair as the rest of him, its paleness interrupted by two
rock hard nipples expanded to their limit by the hormones that was slowly
changing his body to that of a man.  For the second time that night
William's beauty left Michael mute.  To avoid awkwardness Michael busied
himself pouring two glasses of ice tea.  It would take his mind of the
lithe little body on his counter; yet manage to keep the boy with him for
just a while longer.

"Let's sit on the couch," he suggested.  William went into the living room
and stood in front of the enormous television and feigned studying it
instead of sitting down.  He stood with one knee bent outward displaying
his bare back and round buttocks.  His briefs had crept into his crack and
exposed the dimples he had on either cheek. An idea came to his mind,
silly, but effective.  He pivoted around and announced;

"Policemen wrestle, right?"  He leapt onto Michael trying to pin him to the
couch."  His laughter shattered the quiet that had been in the house for so
very long.  He loved the heat coming from every spot he touched the man.
He had straddled Michael's thighs and grabbed him by the wrists.  Skin
touched skin abundantly, and Michael, who was slow to react to the quick
attack, slowly forced the pale body to the side and down.  In brute
strength there could be no match.  He pushed William onto his back and held
both wrists with one hand over William's head.  William kicked half
heartedly, and finally came to a defeated rest against Michael's torso, who
was lying on his side.

"What made you think you could ever beat me?" Michael asked grinning
widely, "Now it's time for payback!"  He lifted his free hand as if to
tickle William's tummy.  William squirmed instinctively, but the touch
wasn't ticklish.  Instead the rough hand stroke his tummy and sides
delicately in circular motions, a sense of comfort came over him and his
body relaxed as he felt the hand moving over his entire stomach.

"Oh, what a belly button." thought Michael.  William had closed his eyes
and relaxed completely in Michael's grasp.  Michael felt free to look at
him.  He could see veins running over the low V of Williams abdomen and
disappear under the cloth.  He could see the rhythm of the young heartbeat.
He saw that William had sprung a moderate erection that started to lift the
very low band around his waist.  Its steady rise announced Michael's
vindication, he allowed himself to become aroused.  His hand went lower to
feel the pulsing veins and his eyes went up to see the brown pointy nipples
rise and fall as William breathed slowly, his eyes still closed.



Michael decided to embark on a journey.  The route would be as smooth as
silk, and the landscape almost translucent cream.  His index touched the
superman red waistband of the tented briefs.  It shifted to the centre of
the feline body, and trailed slowly up toward the navel.  It felt the
hardness of muscle just beneath the soft, tight skin.  It ascended somewhat
before falling suddenly into the cute wrinkle of a shallow belly button. It
loitered there for a luxurious while.  A groan of pleasure escaped from
William's throat.  The index departed again and negotiated the series of
low hills and valleys of young muscle.  It passed up onto the pectoral
plain and hesitated toward one of the treasures at the end of its track.
The finger became a moth and the areola a flame from which the insect could
not escape.  It circled the inferno agonizingly, and finally it stroke the
sensitive tip. Like the wings of a dying moth, the finger and thumb closed
around the inflamed nipple and ecstatically pinched it. A loud Yeah! came
from William; he was looking at Michael's finger and thumb.  Their eyes met
yet again. William lifted his face toward Michael, closing his eyes. The
kiss brought a shudder to Michael's soul. It is true, I am that kind of
guy, he thought as he drifted into the clouds of the most gratifying kiss
of his life.  Their lips rubbed across each other gently, parting little by
little every time they crossed.  Michael extended his tongue just a bit to
taste the lips he was kissing.  He started licking with just the tip of his
tongue, they were as soft as the wrinkly belly button.  The wet tongue was
a signal to William.  He opened his mouth wide and with slow pokes of his
own, enticed the virile tongue into his mouth.  He closed his lips around
it and the slight sucking sensation sent a piercing burst into Michael's
spine to his groin; William was tenderly groping his hard dick.  Fuck! he
thought, I have really been missing out!

William held the back of Michael's head and rubbed it softly.  This was the
man he had been yearning for, for so many weeks.  His hair was shorn short
at the back and along the sides, leaving a short, manageable mop at the
top.  The bristle William was rubbing was moist and dark.  He let his hand
slide over the back of the strong neck and rested it on the square
shoulder, Michael all the while toying with the man-child's nipples and
chest.  William stretched his hand over the massive bicep it encountered
next and felt it move under the tanned hide as it manoeuvred the arm.  He
thought of the muscle as a live, slithering animal. He slid his hand over
to Michael's chest and did nothing but touch it with his palm held flat.
His other hand was encountering man flesh too. It held on to Michael's
large penis still covered in fuzzy cloth.  He could imagine the hot
pulsation and wanted to get even closer to it.  Man, if you're going to
make me work for it, I will, he thought.  By now Michael's tongue
penetrated William's mouth with slow, determined thrusts.  William loved
the moist flesh, the way that it tasted, and the way that it searched all
corners of his mouth. Round two to William flashed through his mind. He
would have smiled, if he wanted to. He started to tug at the towel.

Neither Michael, nor William had any more thoughts; their bodies became
their only reality.  A point of no return had been crossed.  What they were
doing to each other could never be denied.  A man and a teenager were
aroused by one another, and they were acting out on the impulse, without
holding back.  Michael broke the kiss and moved his mouth down to William's
chest.  He used his lips and tongue as tenderly and as urgently as he had
on the soft lips.  He tasted the youth with the tip of his tongue, and
teased the paleness by nibbling with his lips.  His lips also replaced his
fingers on Williams' nipples, because his whole hand was now massaging
William's crotch through the cloth.  William had grown impatient of the
towel and was using both hands to peel it of the officer.  Michael's
muscular thighs flared wide from where they joined the thin
waist. Individual muscles twitched in his upper leg as he imperceptibly
thrust his pelvis toward the smaller thigh.  The young fingers on his
naked, hard dick nearly sent him into outer space.  He did not want to cum
yet; this was just too good.  He had to make it last.  He reached out and
took both William's wrists in one hand, and restrained them over the blonde
hair again.  His other hand toyed with the band of the superman briefs and
he slipped one or two fingers under it to tease the teen dick into little
spastic pleasures.  He grabbed the waistband with the same finger and
slowly pulled it down the shorter body leaving the briefs to dangle around
the ankles.  The young dick was uncircumcised, but the foreskin could no
longer contain the swollen glans, with its pink cat's eye.  No hair could
be found at the base of the hard, four-inch, blue veined, shaft. Michael
tugged at it with two fingers and a thumb.  William could not resist the
groans of pleasure he uttered.  Then Michael played with the two doves
eggs, nestled in the pale, hairless sack.  He felt the teen cock pulsing
even there, and rubbed at it under the tight ball sack. William lifted his
one leg to admit Michael into that part of his body more freely.  It felt
fantastic and he tried to push himself down harder onto it.  Michael's
exploration was encouraged.  He went farther with his hand and could feel a
little knob under the young skin.  The boy shuddered when he massaged it.
Michael's hand was reaching its inevitable destiny.

He touched it first by just rubbing across it with a single finger once,
and then a second time.  There was no sign of protest or resistance from
William.  He then dared to circle the mark with his finger for a while.
There was still no response.  He started massaging the little muscle and
felt it slowly relax at the tip of his finger.  He was rid of all
hesitation.  William let go of the big penis.  He took the large labouring
hand into both of his own, and moulded it into a fist, from which only the
index extended. He put that finger to his mouth and kissed it like a monk
would kiss a rosary.  He started licking it, finally putting it in his
mouth, and sucked on it.  This gesture alone was enough to make Michael
fall in love with the boy.  When Michael's finger was moist enough William
returned the hand and finger, to where he had found them.

"You can go in there," he broke the silence with a sweet, husky voice, "If
you want to."  Michael's finger, sensitized by the oral attentions from the
boy could feel the invitation.  It was as if William's asshole was pulling
at it.  He applied very slight pressure onto the hole and was pleased at
the relaxed ease with which it slid by the first barrier.  William gave a
moan of approval.  He massaged just inside the entrance for a while before
pressing onward, he coaxed the inner sphincter into relaxing a bit more
before sliding his slick finger past it.  By now William was near
unconscious with pleasure.  It was as if that entire part of his body was
extremely alive, and entirely relaxed.  His dozing was disrupted by
Michael's finger, which had reached his p-spot.  His entire body focused on
that beautiful itch as Michael finger-fucked him. It was excruciating joy
that germinated from his ass, and grew all the way up to his shiny
dickhead.  To add insult to injury, Michael sucked on his nipples and made
them even harder than they were.  William felt nothing but whiteness as he
came.  His orgasm was all that ever existed. Every muscle in his body
contracted.  It was perfect and complete.  Milky cum shot from his
untouched cock across his tummy and onto his chest, the initial spurt was
followed by another and another, until little puddles trailed his torso
from top to bottom.  It smelt alkaline, clean and fresh.  He didn't make a
peep.

Only Michael tenderly licking some cum of the one of his nipples ended
William's blissful glow.  Game, William, the voice in his head rejoiced.
He knew it was a sure thing from the beginning.  His sense of fair play
however got the better of him.  He reached up with his lips again, gave
Michael a tender lip kiss and said:

"That was fucking incredible, now it's your turn."  He lifted himself from
the couch and coaxed Michael into reclining backwards.  The boy sat on top
of Michael, straddling his muscled thighs.  At first he just touched and
stroked the enormous torso, which was spread before him.  And then his
hands became brutal as he kneaded Michael's pecs and abs.  He scratched,
pinched, and pulled at the darker, hairless skin.  He was like a naughty
cat, tormenting its prey to death.  It was sure to leave bruises, and
Michael loved it.  It was the sincerest pain he had ever encountered, like
an honest blow to the walls that hid him from himself.  He felt that
William was clawing deeper than just his skin.  William was breaking away
the very mould into which he had poured himself.  He loved being with
another male body.  He loved doing these things with this boy.  He fell in
love with William again.  William had moved his attentions further down the
large body; he was now poking and teasing at the huge dick that was pulsing
between his straddled thighs.  He stroke at the purple glans and felt the
muscle twitch at his slightest brush.  He drew a line around the
circumcised rim with his finger, and let it drop along the swollen
urethra. Droplets of milky pre-cum dripped like honey from his slit.

William rubbed across his own chest and stomach, and gathered some of his
own cum in his hand.  For the first time he grasped Michael's dick, and
slowly started jerking him off.  To Michael it was as if and angel had come
upon him, and was sharing with him heaven itself.  The warm little hand,
slick with teen cum, was like an epiphany.  It was as if he could feel his
own dick through that sweet hand.  He could feel the hard blue veins and
the engorged muscle beneath, he could feel slick, hot cum.  His orgasm
started when the boy came down and bit his lower lip.  It lasted a very
long time.  His entire lower body bucked upward, rubbing his crotch into
William, and thrusting his penis deeper into the tight grip.  He held his
breath, closed his eyes and tried to relax as painful ecstasy raped his
body wave by wave.  Copious jets splattered across his chest as far as his
shoulders.  Even William could not escape the blasts and droplets of the
musky cum landed in his face.  He was now sucking on Michaels tongue, and
felt the quivering dick still ejaculating.  This was going to be quite the
story to tell his friend Emil.

"Please, stop," Michael begged.  William sagged onto Michael.  Michael
embraced his new love.  Warm cum slicking up between them, breaths falling
into sync, and tender in their affection, William and Michael fell asleep.
They were deaf to rustling of bushes outside the window; they were blind to
the dark figure that sneaked away across a well-kept lawn.



Two

Michael startled awake.  Light was streaming into the house through
uncovered windows.  For a moment he wondered why he was waking up on the
couch.  He stopped wondering when he saw the time.

"Oh fuck!" he yelped to himself, "I have to be on roll-call in five
minutes."  It was a fifteen-minute drive to his station.  He knew it was
futile, but he could at least try.  He jumped across the room and started
dressing in his worn uniform. He pulled the shirt over his head and just
for a second, guessed at the flaky patches of dry cum on his chest.  He
would use a moist wipe for his face in the car; he grabbed his keys and
dashed to it, kicking the door closed behind him.  He would have liked to
let the engine heat up first, but he pulled into the road abruptly and took
off, traffic would be slow too.  At first he just glanced at the boy riding
his skateboard on the sidewalk. He looked again and recognised the lanky
face.  It was William, the boy, his boy.  The night and all its adventures
came back to him.  He felt dry cum pull at the skin on his chest where it
landed the previous night.  It was the boy!  For the second time in his
life he felt little butterflies pleasantly flutter in his stomach.  He
recognised the feeling as `being in love'.  He laughed it off as a bit of
childish foolishness and returned his concentration to the road.  He
managed to arrive just as the squad was falling out, each with his
instructions for the day.  He dodged an angry look from the inspector, and
was saved by his partner for the day.

"Hi, I'm Garret," said the handsome man to a rushing Michael.  Michael was
eager to get out of there and on with the day.  He shook Garret's hand, who
held onto his for just a second longer than Michael had expected.

"I'm Michael, I've seen you around."

Garrett was a transfer officer from another town.  He was around Michael's
age, but had a much more assertive, maybe cheekier temperament.  His
complexion was like Michael's, dark and smooth.  His build was bulkier and
buff.  He had only joined the ranks recently and had made no mention of a
wife or family.  Rumour had it that he was forced to come there for some
indiscretion in his hometown, but no one knew what.  Michael and Garret had
never spoken before, and today they'd be stuck together all day.  Garret
insisted on driving, already trying to be the alpha dog.  Michael didn't
mind much; he had just gotten out of traffic.  They got into the patrol
van.  They were just on beat and had to drive around until a call came
about a report, or they ran into something.  The morning was growing warm
and soon they had their windows down for some fresh air.  They had to
attend a shoplifting incident, it turned out what they thought to be an
over enthusiastic security guard at a small shop, but the culprit had
already dumped the evidence.  Garret took his sweet time body searching the
teenager.  He found nothing out of the ordinary.  Michael resolved the
matter, telling the guard to be sure to get the stuff on the suspect, and
he told the kid to get back to school.  Nothing more serious came up and
the day drew to a quiet noon.  By then it was really hot in the car.  The
warm seats made the policemen stickier than they already were and even idle
conversation came to a halt.

Michael was preoccupied with the night before, feeling better than he had
in a long time.  He was satisfied.  It was the feeling one had the day
after really good sex, and he knew that.  He knew too that he was not the
same man as the day before.  He knew his own cum, and that of a teen boy
was on his body right then.  And that was just fine, because that boy knew
what he wanted, and came for it.  He knew that he had changed over night,
and didn't know what to do about it, or indeed if anything should be done
about it.  What about the boy?  He knew he had to see William again, but
how?  Should he send the boy flowers, or a gift?  Should he ask the boy
out, or to a secret meeting?  He just didn't know, but he knew he was in
love.  He saw a boy of William's age at a road crossing and he looked
closely to see if it might be him.

	"Nice ass, huh?" Garret's voice shattered his thoughts as they
drove on.  Michael wasn't listening and was sure he had heard wrong.

"Sorry, I didn't get that?"

"Nice ass."  Garret pointed with his thumb over his shoulder at the boy who
was crossing the road behind them.  "The kid, nice ass, huh?"  Michael was
confused, was Garret talking about the boy they just drove by?

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"My mistake," Garret replied, "I thought you were checking him out."

"I wasn't, just thought I recognised him."  Michael was frightened.  Why
would this guy, someone he had just met, ask him that kind of question?  He
felt uncomfortable.

"I didn't mean anything by it, honest!" Garret continued.  Michael looked
at him and thought he saw a little smile hiding in the corner of Garret's
mouth.  "I just thought a man could appreciate something nice, if he saw
it." Michael grew apprehensive. They were still driving around idly.
Streets were filling up with kids released from school.  Some were waiting
at bus stops.  Some were biking or skating, and some were just walking home
in little groups.  Garret kept driving around.  In a quiet street he pulled
over.  A boy of around sixteen was loitering on the corner.  As Garret was
getting out of the car as he barked at Michael,

"Wait here, I'll deal with this."  Michael looked after him and recognized
the boy as the one from the shoplifting call that morning.  He was average
sized for his age.  He had sharp features and would doubtlessly grow into a
dashing man.  His hair was light brown and cut short on the sides and at
the back.  He flicked a non-existent fringe defiantly and made to walk off
before Garret accosted him.

"Wait there, Sport." Garret called him back.  "Looks like trouble is
finding you everywhere today."  Michael knew there was nothing suspicious
about the boy except that he was standing around aimlessly.  He was wearing
low board shorts from which his brightly coloured boxers were peeking.  His
tight t-shirt was sleeveless and high cut.  He became nervous.

"Hands on the roof of the car," Garret ordered him.

"Hey Mister, I ain't done nuthin'!"

Garret took the boy by the shoulder and pulled him to the car.  He placed
the boy's hands on the white roof, positioning the boy directly in front of
Michael's open window through which he was watching them.

"Spread `em!" Garret barked at the jittery kid, kicking the boy's legs wide
apart with his foot.  "Now keep still!"  Michael saw the man in his dark
blue uniform go down on one knee behind the young suspect and start his
meticulous search.  He was feeling around the boy's socks, and moved his
hands upward over the pronounced calves.  Michael saw this too, and thought
it a wasted exercise.  No one can hide something on naked skin, yet Garret
continued.  He was now on the teen butt, feeling over the mounds as if
something may be there. He took longer than he needed too.  Michael knew
that Garret intended to make this more than it was suppose to be.  He
wanted to protest, but also wanted to know what his colleague was up to.
He watched the wide frame step up close behind the boy, who had closed his
eyes in trepidation.  If Garret's scrutiny of the boy legs and butt was
exaggerated, he touching the boy's upper body was near indecent.  He rubbed
over the uncovered upper arms and gave the defined triceps a squeeze. He
rubbed down over the little t-shirt front, and stepped even closer pushing
up against the shorter body, his gun belt pressing dauntingly into the
exposed lower back.  He felt back upward, this time putting his hands under
the shirt and rubbing the boy's tight stomach in circles.  Michael was
shocked, he saw that Garret was enjoying this; he had even closed his
eyes. His hands moved up the young torso, pulling the t-shirt with it.
Michael could see the boy's stomach expand as he breathed deeply; he could
also see the large hands rub over the hairless chest.  Even if it was wrong
he knew that the boy, who had thrown his head back, was a looker.  Garret
was now searching the front of the shorts.  He rubbed over the pockets and
touched on the knob that was at level with Michael's face.  The boy wanted
to pull away, but was fast in Garret's trained grip.  He slid first the one
hand and then the other into the boy's pockets feeling at the thighs.

"What have we got here?"  He was quiet all this time, "Guess what I found,
Michael?"  Michael startled when he was addressed.  He was entranced in
watching the other man's hands.  He didn't want to think what Garret was
talking about, his hands deep into the pockets.  He didn't want to be
involved in whatever game this man was playing.  Garret removed his hands.
He was holding a spliff between two fingers.

"Looks like we got ourselves a pot head here."  The boy started protesting
again,

"I swear it's not mine, I picked it up, I don't even know what it is!"
Garret seemed self-satisfied.

"You're in big trouble, Sport," he whispered into the boy's ear, "You know
what they'll do to an ass like yours in the big house?"

"No," whimpered the boy.

"Right then, I'm gonna cut you some slack," Garret whispered again.  "You
be here tomorrow, same time, and I'll let this go, for now."  The boy,
desperate to flee, agreed with no intention of ever being seen again.

"Yeah, yeah, I will!"

He struggled from Garret's grip and took off away from the policeman that
had just searched him so intimately.

"Whatever, you pervert Pig!" he yelled and dashed across the road.

"You get to your momma now!" Garret laughed after him.

Garret got back in next to Michael, who had been quiet all this time.

"What the fuck was that all about?" he asked, "You'll get into trouble for
pulling that kind of shit!"  Garret didn't even wince.  He relaxed into his
seat without turning the car on.  He pushed the cigarette lighter button,
and waited for it to heat up.

"What if someone saw you?" he continued agonizing.  Garret lit the joint
right in the car.

"If anyone saw anything it was an officer searching a suspect, nothing
more."

"Yeah, but it's not right!" Michael objected.

"And who's gonna tell, sure as shit not you!" Garret was still toking on
the joint.  Michael was flabbergasted.

"I know what you've been up to with that sweet ass neighbour of yours."
Fear twisted itself around Michael's heart, the fact that his feelings for
Michael could be turned against him never occurred to him.

"But how, you know nothing about me?"

"I know enough to take you down with me," Garret threatened softly, relaxed
by the chemical that was flowing through his veins, "Enough to know that
you're into fun things; just like me."

"Did he put you up to this?" Michael immediately suspected William of
setting him up.

"No, no.  Rest your troubled heart. That beauty doesn't know a thing.  I
took a fancy to you when I saw you at the station.  Thought I'd follow you
home. Didn't expect the show I got."

This muscled man isn't into fun things, he's a predator, Michael thought to
himself.  A predator that's got me just where he wants me, Garret held the
spliff out to Michael.

"So how about sharing some of that pretty little candy with me?" Michael
looked at the joint, and then at the man, playful William's face flashed
before his eye

"Never," he said coldly.



William was walking down the school corridor to meet his friend Emil at
their lockers.  They had known each other since kindergarten, and the
nature of their relationship was such that no secrets existed between them.
They would still sometimes take time to enjoy each other's bodies, but what
they really gave each other was friendship and support, no matter what.
The hallways were busy with after school buzz and fellow students were
milling around to after school activities, clubs, sports, and some just
hanging around before going home.  No one but William noticed an act of
tyranny happening under the stairwell, just away from hallway traffic.

At sixteen Paul was the school hero.  He was the star fly half on the first
rugby team, handsome as they come, and chiselled like the overachieving
athlete he was.  Students and teachers alike admired him for his skill, and
that gave him a really big head.  So big, he was a complete bastard to some
of the younger kids; some might even call him a bully.  One of the few
students he had singled out for particularly harsh treatment was Emil,
William's best friend.  Paul and his minions, two or three lesser jocks,
would sometimes call Emil names as he passed.  They had given him countless
wedgies, and once even tried to undress him and shove him into the hallway
before they were stopped by one of the masters who were patrolling the
boy's room.

Paul was terrorizing Emil yet again, but this time he was alone.  William
saw the jock pushing Emil up against the wall under the staircase.  He was
saying things, which nobody could hear, into the younger boy's ear.  The
embarrassment and moist glint in Emil's eyes proved the insult and injury
of Paul's words.  He pushed up relentlessly against the boy with the full
length of his athletic body, squeezing the air out of the young lungs.
William felt powerless but knew his friendship demanded intercession.  He
straightened his back, threw back his shoulders and stepped up closer.
Paul noticed him and was distracted from the torment he was giving Emil.  A
little smile was playing across his lips when he saw William.

"Well, well, look at this.  It's the little faggot's boyfriend."  William
wanted to say something but could not find the words.  He looked into
Paul's eyes radiating pure hatred.

"Oooh!" Paul camped it up, "I didn't think you'd get jealous."

He released Emil and walked away shoving William with his shoulder.  The
bully was significantly taller than the two boys and he could indeed beat
them both up if he wanted to.

"Are you alright?" William asked Michael when Paul had turned the corner.

"Yeah, I'm fine."  Tears were threatening to burst from his eyes, but the
embarrassment of crying at school outweighed getting wedgies.

"I hate him so much," Emil said to William, "I wish there was some way to
get back at him for this shit!"  William picked up his friend's pack and
carried it for him as they moved toward the exit.  He was thinking as they
went and finally he said to Emil,

"There is a way you know."

For a second a twinkle of hope illuminated young Emil's face.  William saw
it and was reminded of how attractive his compatriot was.  They'd be
walking home together, and their moods and conversation lightened up as
soon as they hit the sunlight and fresh air on the outside.

Not much later they were perched on William's windowsill. When they got
home William had rummaged through his bottom drawer, and crafted a little
joint from some grass he had been saving for a rainy day, or a good friend.
It was sunny enough and as was their habit they took off their shirts and
sat on the windowsill to allow the acrid smoke to escape the little room.

"So how did project Badge go last night?" Emil asked.

"Mission accomplished," he boasted.  It was not the first time William had
done something like this.  For a fourteen year old on a skateboard he was
very much the manipulative genius.  Not only did he play on people's
feelings, sometimes, when his prey was handsome enough he would play with
their bodies too.

"He was like a puppy dog in my hands.  Sometimes I still wonder why they
are so easy," William was almost talking to himself.  He was trying to
sound more disaffected than he really was.  Somewhere, deep down inside
him, the policeman had struck a cord.  William knew he had a sheltered
life.  It was this that he despised.  He wanted to be on the edge, he
wanted to do things that no one had done before, and for him to accomplish
this he had to be brutal.  Yet, this man with whom he had sex the previous
evening invoked in him a sense of comfort he had never felt before.
Michael treated him with respect and consideration.  He was not just
another old pervert trying to get off on the backseat of his car before
they were caught.  It was as if Michael would not just have done this with
anybody that came along.  Maybe he wasn't done with the policeman just yet

"So what did you do?" Emil wanted to know more.  William told him every
detail about his encounter with Michael.  He told about his initial
hesitation and fear.  He told of their little conversation and then the
mind blowing sex that followed.  Both the boys sat with raging hardons in
their shorts, but they didn't mind, they had seen more of each other than
just that.

Unlike William, Emil was of a darker complexion.  His skin was the colour
of light caramel, and his hair slightly darker, like the bark of a pepper
tree.  His frame was lanky and gave the impression of length, yet he was no
taller than William.  Under the hazy influence of the spliff and their
mutual state of arousal William turned his droopy gaze at Emil, he liked
his friend a lot and could almost imagine smelling the spice that emanated
from his long time friend.  He leaned into Emil and gave him a lingering
kiss on the cheek.  Emil, under the same heady influence of the herb felt
the serenity of William's attentions spread through him.  He smiled
languidly and turned his face to the blonde.

"Are you thinking what I think you are thinking?"  William smiled
sheepishly and nodded.  Emil replied by putting his arm around William's
shoulder and pulling him close, "So what are you planning to do about it?"
The weed made them both a little giddy.

"What do you want me to do about it?" Emil extended his long tongue and
licked across William's cheek.  Their cloudy joy could no longer be
contained and the boys erupted with giggles, lost their balance and fell
backward into the room onto the soft carpet that covered the floor.  They
no longer needed the excuse of horseplay to touch each other.  William
moved his body onto Emil and held him down in a long, boyish kiss.

Their lovemaking was innocent and sweet, unbound by the strains and aches
of age.  William's light body slid over his friend's stomach as they
delicately rubbed their faces together.  William moved his lips down the
honey flavoured throat, he nibbled at the budding Adam's apple and licked
the little dent before moving to the chest, expanding with the pleasing
sensation.  They were doing what they have done many times before.  They
were comfortable and familiar with each other's most private parts.
William did not hesitate to open his mouth to softly suck at Emil's
nipples, or taste the syrupy skin around the dark belly button. As he was
doing this, he manoeuvred his body first at right angle with Emil's, and
finally came to rest with his crotch over Emil's face and himself chewing
at the Velcro that bound Emil's teenaged cock.  They started opening one
another's flies.  Emil lifted his butt of the carpet to let William slide
his board shorts to bellow his ankles. Emil kicked them away and did
likewise for William.  Neither of them minded the clean, sweaty smell from
the pulsing dicks each of them were facing, William started licking at the
dick that was shorter than his own, but still as girthed, as if it was his
favourite flavoured ice-cream.  Emil on the other hand first inhaled the
sweaty crotch and then took the entire head of William's penis into his
mouth and softly sucked on it.  It did not take them long to fall into a
slow rhythm that pleasured them both equally, but gave them long enough to
enjoy the feeling ultimately.  It was a sixty-nine done with the ease of
two friends who really liked each other, and got along.  As they were
sucking each other their hands too offered little gifts of pleasure.  Emil
was stroking William's ass with his one hand, while his other was tweaking
a nipple.  This beautiful itch felt good to William, who was jacking at the
base of Emil's cock with his free hand, digging deep into his body to
stroke as much of the hard shaft as possible.

They spent the better part of and hour doing this, only interrupting the
mutual face fucking to avoid impending orgasms.  When they did cum, they
came as one, simultaneously spurting clear cum from their young penises.
William was cumming in Emil's mouth, while the dark haired boy splattered
his essence over himself and William's chest.  William collapsed onto his
friend and breathed heavily after experiencing a shuddering orgasm.  Emil's
struggled to breath and giggled while trying to get his friend off him.
William promptly brought his face back to Emil's lips and gave him a last
kiss.  He sat up and lit a cigarette giving it to Emil's for a drag, he
blew the smoke out the open window and looked at his glowing friend etched
in the light of the afternoon sun and spinning a web of blue smoke.  Emil
looked back up at William and said,

"Sure as shit, partner, you're still the best fuck I've ever had!" feigning
a cowboy accent.

"And you mine," replied William who did not want to hurt his friends'
feelings.  His friend was, like him, still a boy, but the night before he
had felt the body of a full-grown man.

"So, what are we planning to do about that little punk jock Paul?"
Conversation had suddenly turned serious.  Emil did not want to talk about
the matter.  He did not enjoy being reminded of the bully, or what he
endured from him, but he also knew that something had to be done, and soon.
Emil wasn't as mischievous when it came to people as William was, but he
wasn't surprised when William said;

"There's a way for you to get back at him, if you're game?"

Emil perked up; he had been waiting for this;

"Yeah?" Michael had Emil's attention.

"Yeah, we're going to give him some payback, William style." Emil had just
the littlest bit of doubt."

"And how will I know that he won't be coming after me again?"  William had
already started formulating a plan.

"Oh, don't worry about that, by the time we're done with him he'll be putty
in your hands!"  William was hoping that Paul, like all bullies, had a
secret he was trying to bully away, and if his suspicions were on the mark,
Paul's little secret had something to do with his own beautiful friend,
Emil.  The boys discussed a plan that, if it were to succeed, required
urgent preparation, a trip to the liquor store, and a few favours that
could be called in.  Their school was going to have an autumn dance in just
about a week, and balls needed to be set a-rolling.  Dusk announced that
the friends had to part ways, Emil's parents expected him for dinner, and
William had some calls to make.



Three

Only when it was over did Michael realise what a tough day he had had.  He
drove home worried that the situation he had so carelessly gotten into
would destroy the comfortable life he had made for himself.  He had to make
a decision, was he going to risk all of it for those moments of bliss he
felt when William nuzzled in his arms, or would he have to sever any
contact between them to spare them both unthinkable disaster?  Garret had
already hinted that his silence could be bought with the boy's body, but
that could never be.  Michael could neither make such decisions for the
boy, nor would he be able to stand the thought of William's body being used
by another man.  He was resolute never to see William again; the personal
risk for either of them would be just too great.  He would sacrifice
happiness for safety, and that thought hurt bad.  As always he pulled into
the driveway and on his way to the front door surveyed the area as he is
used to.  He half expected to see the glow of a cigarette in the high
window of his young love's room, but was both disappointed and relieved
that William was not there, a clean break would make all this go away.

He went to the front door to let himself into his sanctuary only to find
that the door was unlocked.  Alarm bells rang through his mind and without
a glitch years of police training kicked in.  His body moved by itself as
he took the heavy revolver from his gun belt and bent his knees slightly
moving to the side of the door, he was intending to use the wall as cover
while he slowly nudged the door open with the snub nose.  He immediately
saw that the kitchen light was on, but no sound came from the house.  He
entered quietly expecting to come upon a perpetrator in the act of stealing
something, a thought came to him.  What if it was Garret?  That corrupt
bastard would not think much of going into someone's house and making
himself at home, especially not if he had some hold on them, fully
intending on blackmailing them.  This would be outrageous, on the other
hand, he did leave the house in quite a hurry that morning, did he not just
forget the light on, and the door unlocked in his haste to get to work?  It
was then that an angelic voice of a blonde fourteen year old boy came from
the kitchen;

"Is that you, Sir, um, Michael?"  The boy about whom Michael had been
agonising all day was in his kitchen.  The feelings he tried to deny beat
at his chest as he rounded the corner and saw William pouring two glasses
of iced tea.  His body still moved automatically, he put the gun down, and
strode to William enveloping him in a mighty embrace.  He knew then that
they would have to find a way, because the boy hugged him back. A muffled
voice came from William, tightly pressed against Michael's chest;

"I think have fallen in love with you."  Michael did not expect such a open
hearted statement, but it made him the happiest man in the world,

"And I with you," he replied.  William lifted his face for a kiss and was
not disappointed when he found Michael's lips waiting for his.  He sucked
on the strong tongue, and both of them became aroused, pressing their
hardons up against each other.

"There is something we need to talk about," Michael had broken the kiss and
was speaking to William who was breathing rapidly.

William never considered that the nature of their budding relationship was
not quite acceptable to society at large.  To him having sex with an object
of desire was the most natural thing.  Yet society did not relent in trying
to conform all of its members into a well-behaved and puritan little box.

"We need to be careful about all this."  William knew what Michael was
saying was true, even if it was against his sometimes tactlessly honest
nature.  If he wanted to have a future with this beautiful man he had to
heed his words, and count those who knew about it.  It was then that
Michael told him about Garret.

"Someone saw us." It took William a moment to realize that their brand new
secret had never been a secret.

"It gets worse." Michael told him that this heartless man was already
making demands, and that the demands were greater than either of them could
bear.  Michael however was as yet ignorant of the resourcefulness of his
young lover.  William was already planning the defeat of one irritating
little personality.  He could not think of a good reason why two birds
could not be shot down with one stone.

"I have an idea," said William.  He told Michael of his friend Emil and the
bully that was pestering him without end, and this Garret sounded like the
same kind of guy.  All that needed doing was elaboration on an already
existing plan, some little sacrifices, and the sheer grace of lady luck.



"This would be the easiest piece of boy-ass I've ever had!" Garret said to
himself as he dressed for the evening.  Droplets of water still trailed
down his muscular back.  He didn't care about drying too well after a
shower.  He didn't wear underwear either, and after fastening a leather
cock-ring under his ample balls and over his dick, pulled on a pair of
tight jeans, buttoning them up over a protruding bulge.  He looked at
himself in the wardrobe mirror, and loved what he saw; three times a week
at the station gym with incredible weights maintained a muscled bulk, the
envy of many.  He kept his huge chest and rippling stomach shaven.  Garret
rubbed over the smooth skin testing the stubble and tugged a couple of
times at the small golden rings that pierced his nipples.

"And before this night is over you boys are gonna see some action!"  He
rummaged through one of the many boxes that littered his apartment floor.
He had not thought of unpacking since he moved there from his hometown.  He
would not have moved if it weren't for an incident with a frigid delinquent
and a `nosy fucking sergeant'.  He took out a leather biker's jacket that
had a brass zipper in the front.  He pulled it on over a tight white
t-shirt.  He was surprised that his new buddy at the station came through
for him so quickly.  The very next day after he talked to Michael the man
folded already.  He was sure he would have to step up the pressure, but the
man gave too quickly for Garret to even have the chance.

His interest in Michael was superficial at first.  He liked his looks and
just wanted to know more about his colleague, find out where he lived, if
he was single, and maybe get some play.  He had some success in the past,
and guys with the looks of Michael always made his ass twitch.  What he
didn't count on was that Michael was a player like he himself was, and that
made it even better.  He was going to pick Michael up at his house.
Apparently the boy would be at his school dance and they were to meet some
place half way through.  This was going to be the night of nights, good
company, virgin butt, and fresh air.  Garret slid a small tube of lube into
his denim pocket, grabbed his keys and strode to his Ducati, whistling.



Emil was having a terrible time.  He was sitting at the edge of the dance
floor, deafened by bad pop whining through the hall and blinded by
monotonous coloured lights going around in circles making him slightly
motion sick.  But that wasn't the worst.  He was doing what he hated; the
complete opposite of what he did every other day of his life.  He was
trying to get Paul's attention and he didn't really know why.  It was all
part of William's `plan' he still didn't quite understand.  Paul and one of
his minions were sitting sideways across from Emil. He had intentionally
walked up close pass Paul and looked at him, at once scared of the dark
look that returned from the jock, and himself trying to be inviting and
delicious, like food.  Emil didn't know why.  He certainly had no desire to
seduce the dark haired boy, and he was quite sure Paul didn't `like' him
either.  William said something about his `subconscious blah-blahs' but
that did not convince Emil and he was acting out of sheer faith.  He gave
Paul another open faced look and when he was sure he had the boy's
attention, stood up and walked to the exit.  As he got outside he didn't
care to take a second look, but instead felt the easy chill of the evening
air on his face.  It was lovely out.

Paul, feeling the urge, got up and followed.  He saw Emil's lanky frame
walk to the sidewalk and followed yet again, skipping steps as he went
downstairs. He thought he might have some fun with the little faggot.  He
followed Emil all the way into the school gardens, trying to be real quiet.
He was trying to sneak up on the boy.  He thought of the look Emil gave him
minutes before.  He was sitting spread-eagled looking at the mass of
shaking bodies in swirling light when he walked by.  At first he thought it
was a one of the girls that tried to get his attention.  He liked the
tapering middle, and took a second look at the cute ass that kind of
strolled past.  When he tried to see her tits he saw that it was a boy, not
just any boy, but that pretty boy fag with the pepper coloured hair and the
colour of honey on his cheeks.  Paul's dick had grown from thinking about
the misleading little boy bitch.

"He shouldn't be doin' this to a man like me," he said to himself. "He
never knows what he'll be getting himself into."

Emil had turned a corner far into the gardens.  The walkways were well
kept, and well lit, but the brush was thicker, the trees leafier, and the
undergrowth lush.  He almost came up on the boy abruptly.  He saw Emil
sitting down on a bench, and taking a hipflask from his pocket.  The little
bitch is boozin', he thought, and as Emil took a swig from the flask,
stepped into Emil's view triumphantly;

"Yeah, you little faggot, I knew you were up to something!"  Emil did not
cringe, as his instinct wanted him to.  Instead he relaxed his body, looked
up at Paul, smiled and said;

"Oh hi, would you like to take a drop?" Paul was taken aback for a moment.
Was the boy offering him a drink, nicely?  He brusquely asked;

"What is it?"

Emil did not skip a beat;

"With that attitude you can stuff it!" he growled at the muscular Jock.
Paul felt oddly ashamed.  The boy was just being nice to him.  He looked
around, and then in a softer tone said;

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be..."

"Vodka, triple distilled, really smooth. Want some?" Emil interrupted him,
smiling gently.  Paul felt at ease, the pretty boy spoke to him like he
didn't hate him, or feared him.  He took a breath and then in a much
gentler tone replied;

"Yes thanks, it'd be... nice."

Emil too relaxed a bit, the much bigger boy was not going to whack him
right there.  He actually didn't seem as scary as he always does.

"Well I'm not a drive-through." His wit returned as he patted the open
bench next to him, "We only serve seated customers." Paul started to
giggle;

"Where the fuck did you learn to speak like that?" Emil just shrugged and
gave the flask to Paul who sat down next to him.  Paul brought the silver
brim to his lips; he drank of the clear liquid for the time it would take
someone to take a breath. This was good quality booze. At first the alcohol
did not sting his tongue or throat, and just the warmth of the flighty
chemical touched his senses, until he breathed.  When he inhaled it felt
like he was breathing razor blades.  The air caught in his windpipe.  Paul
clutched his stomach and started coughing like a dying man.  The triple
distilled burned like fire, agony and ecstasy at the same time.  His cough
came down to a snigger and tears streamed down his cheeks.  He croaked,
"Good shit!" before hanging on to himself for dear life again.

Emil thought the boy would have been able to take at least a bit of drink.
What else this young man, that was older than he was, was unaccustomed to
would be unimaginable.  When Paul finally seemed okay again Emil took the
flask back and took another sip. It was from the stash he and William
bought for this occasion.  The warm liquid settled in his stomach and he
felt relaxed and in control.  This big troll that was sitting next to him,
this big bundle of clean muscle was as human as he himself was.  And this
human couldn't hold his drink.  He looked at Paul who was now looking
around the park again and said;

"So, what's a guy like you doing in a place like this."  Paul wasn't going
to acknowledge that he was following Emil.  He shrugged the question,
looked around some more, and then asked;

"Is it true that fags come to have sex in the gardens at night?" Again Emil
did not like the jock's tone; he gave Paul a scolding look;

"You're here aren't you?" Paul felt ashamed again;

"I mean, is this where dudes come to have sex with other dudes?" If it
weren't for the booze Emil would not have had the courage to continue with
the conversation.

"Some of them, sometimes, yes."  He gave the flask back to Paul, who took a
modest sip this time, taming the wolf.

"You one of those, right?"

"One of what's?"

"You know, one of those dudes that does it with other dudes, right?"Emil
did not waver;

"What does it matter? You already call me one." He took the flask back from
Paul feeling a bit angry with the boy, and seeing how shame made the jock
look away from him.

He took some time to just look at the boy; who have bullied him so many
times before.  He saw the strong arms that have held him to a wall or a
railing so often and how they now lay harmlessly and peacefully in his lap.
He blinked at the snarling face that would spray spittle on his cheek,
seeming now timid and insecure.  It was after all still the eyes of a
brown-eyed boy who did not know much himself.

"Have you ever been with another guy before, Paul?"

"No!" Paul seemed offended. "I'm not queer," he said softer. He still
didn't face Emil.

"If I promise not to tell, would you tell me if you ever wanted to be with
another guy?"

Paul insisted;

"I told you, I'm not like that."

"Then at least tell me, have you ever wondered what it's like to be with
another guy?"

To Paul the world was a whirlpool of confusion.  Molecules of the purest
Swedish vodka were playing leapfrog around his brain.  He thought the boy
he had followed out was cute. The boy he came out here to pester was being
nice to him. And he was horny as hell.

"Maybe, I mean, everybody wonders, don't they?"  Finally he had the guts to
face Emil again.  The boy's shiny eyes seemed sincere and caring, and they
were beautiful eyes. He could never acknowledge this to anyone. He was
feeling out of control and blamed it on the drink. At that moment Emil
offered him some more and he accepted.  He sipped from the flask of every
taboo he has ever held true.  He wiped the lingering droplets from his lips
on the brim of the greater flask, the lips of Emil, and tasted of the sweet
honey it contained.

Emil too was aroused by the sheer menace the boy beheld for Paul was not
only a boy that did not know much, but he was also dangerous.  Emil allowed
himself to be ravaged by Paul.  He did not want to interrupt Paul's
urgency, or remind him of his anger.  Besides, Emil confessed that he was a
sucker for punishment.  He grinned at the thought and relinquished himself
to the sucks and nibbles Paul was administering to his throat and neck.  He
thought that he was forgetting something he was suppose to do, but couldn't
remember what.  By now Paul's hands had worked their way up under his shirt
and were now teasing at his nipples.  The jock really wanted him, and
wanted him bad.  He took some initiative, yanking at the letterman's shirt
that took hold of it himself and pulled it over his head.  Paul reached for
Emil's shirt next and took it off in one swift move.  They kissed again.
Then he remembered.  He didn't like the little fucker whose tongue was now
licking at his throat.  This was the boy who was responsible for the
infinite misery he had to endure since he started coming to this school.
Emil did not only dislike Paul, he hated him.

"Have you ever been to the janitor's room behind the pavilion?" Emil heard
himself ask.



Four

Garret felt his passenger grasp around his waist even tighter as the
motorcycle raced from one pool of light to the next.  He loved to feel the
fear of whoever sat behind him as he pushed the powerful engine into the
red of the revolution counter.  The wind was rushing through Michael's hair
and he had to squint over Garret's shoulder to see where they were going.
He was surprised at the joviality he was able to express towards Garret.
Not for one moment did he forget that Garret was blackmailing him.  Not for
one moment did he forget that this man was a threat to the cosy life he
made for himself, nor did he forget that this man was claiming the body of
his newfound love.  The Ducati whined beautifully when they leaned into a
smooth turn, Michael grasped tighter at Garret to make sure he didn't get
thrown.  He felt Garret pushing back with his butt hard against his crotch.
He knew that Garret was overtly sexualizing the ride and was just begging
to be fucked.  He had to admit, even if Garret was a devil, a body like
that was nice to hang on to.  Even through the thick leather Michael could
feel rippling abs.  He did not notice that his hand had opened flat against
the leather-clad stomach and he was wishing to feel more of what was
practically within his reach.  He was jolted to hear Garret shout over his
shoulder:

"Put your hands inside or they will freeze off!"  Garret let go of the
steering with one hand and moved to unzip the brass that kept him covered.
The idea that this man's body was intriguing him shocked Michael and he
released the intimate grip on his blackmailer.  He was trying hard to wish
away the erection that had grown between them and was pressing up against
the solid round butt riding in front of them.

William had told him what to do.  The few days they had known each other
had given Michael the impression that William was an extraordinary boy.
When he came to Michael with the story of the school bully, and then
proposed to get two flies with one swat, he thought William naïve.  The
only way that Michael finally agreed to this scheme was because William
threatened to take it all into his own hands.  If Michael had not
cooperated, William would have exposed himself to Garret, who had proven to
be remorseless.  The boy had him by the balls, and not only in a good way.
When William did explain the intricate plan to him, he was amazed at how
well it was thought out and by now was convinced that William might
actually be able to pull it off.  He hadn't seen William since that
afternoon.  They shared a parting kiss that still ached in Michael's
stomach as he watched the boy mount his skateboard and wheel out of sight
with a heavily loaded pack on his back and a determined look on his face.



William was standing spread eagled outside the janitor's dusty window.  The
small building was hidden away in a corner of the school grounds and few
people ever came near it because Mr. Jenkins, the janitor, was a fearful
presence that loomed in the shadows and everyone knew he knew everyone.
His low standing in the school pecking order didn't make him very popular
and the disfiguring scar on his left cheek made him an object to be
avoided.  As soon as he set foot in the school this was the best reason
William could find to befriend the man.  Mr. Jenkins was not a monster, he
was misunderstood, and turned out to be just another guy who could do with
a friend.  Sharing his cigarettes and lunch with Mr. Jenkins had won him a
lot of favour with the old man.  He sometimes skipped classes there,
Mr. Jenkins had given him a key and didn't mind if William used the room
without Mr. Jenkins getting into trouble for it.  Emil and William had used
the room many times to indulge in their little explorations.  William had
once brought the math master there to keep Emil from failing an exam.  He
also used it for playing with a number of the jocks from Paul's team, who
was as pissed off with him as William was.

	He had been looking through the window since he watched Paul and
Emil enter the little shack not more than five minutes before.  He felt
safe from being noticed in the dark outside and was delighted when Paul
ripped of his own t-shirt and unfastened his belt when he thought that Emil
had locked the door from the inside.  The plan was that Emil occupied Paul
until Michael and the other sucker arrived.  Emil had to get Paul naked,
and then make tracks when William signalled him.  He had told Michael to
park in the shaded avenue behind the school and come onto the grounds
through a pedestrian gate that no one ever used because it was so close to
Mr. Jenkins's room.  He saw the light from a motorcycle beam into the trees
of the road and heard an engine turned off.  He waived through the window
at Emil who was astride Paul nibbling at the naked boy's chest.  He got up
without his shirt on and pretended to have to pee outside.  William watched
a beautiful boy stay behind, his heart was thumping in his chest and he was
relieved when Emil came around the corner and joined him at the window.

"Lights, cameras, action," William whispered.



Garret came up to the door and read "JANITOR", stencilled in black spray on
the door.  He was alone and his boy ass was just on the other side of it.
Michael had begged off coming in with him, he said he didn't want to see
what Garret was going to do with his little boy-bitch.  That was just fine
by him, he cared for one pleasure only, and that was his own.  He pressed
softly on the door and it opened at a crack.  There was light on the
inside.  He took a quick look around to make sure no-one saw him going in
and then slid in through the crack and closed the door.  He heard a sudden
rustle behind him; a startled young voice asked;

"Who are you, what are you doing here?"  He turned around and looked at a
young man lying naked on a blanket on the floor trying to cover his
generous genitals with one hand and pushing his upper body upward with an
elbow.  This was not the pretty boy Garret came to see.  This was some one
completely different, not much older, much more muscled, and apparently all
ready for some action.  Garret raised his index finger to his lips and
said;

"Hush, little man."

His eyes glinted and a smile cracked his handsome face, he took his time to
looking at the body that laid defenceless in front of him.  The young chest
was heaving with surprise.  Not a single hair blemished the fair skin that
stretched across it.  Little folds of skin covered a thin waist that
squashed his belly button closed.  As small crop of dark hair peeked from
under his wrist as the young hand strained to contain his cock-and-balls.
Garret recognised the muscled thighs and calves as those of a rugby player.
His eyes moved from the white socks on Paul's feet to large biceps and then
met the bright brown eyes looking at him anxiously.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here looking as good as that?" he
asked.  Garret had completely forgotten the boy he was supposed to meet
here.  What he saw was a splitting image of himself when he was that age.
He undid his heavy leather jacket and dropped it to the floor. The night
was not cold, but the brisk drive on the motorcycle had, even through the
jacket, raised his large pierced nipples to little horns that poked at the
startling white fabric.

	Paul was shuddering with discomfort;

"I shouldn't be here," he said as he looked around for his clothes.

"Hold your horses," he heard the man command.  He looked up and saw the man
take his shirt off.  The man had a broad chest and his round pecs
culminated in two dark nipples adorned with little golden rings.  This
wasn't good.  He knew that this man was much bigger and by the looks of it
much stronger than he was.  There would be no match if it came down to a
struggle.  Paul got up and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders.
Garret stepped in front of the door, blocking Paul's only way of escape.
The bare-chested man started fumbling with his belt buckle.  He fingered it
as if to bring Paul's gaze down to it, and was successful.  Paul noticed
that the stranger had a huge bulge in his jeans.  His eyes widened with
terror.  It dawned on him that this man meant business, the kind of
business he thought he was going to have with Emil.  The little tramp had
set him up, and now he was convinced that he was going to be raped.  A
chilling realisation dawned upon him.  His chances of escape was minimal,
and even if by some miracle he managed to get away his current state of
affairs would be a dead give away of what he was up to.

"Please mister, just let me get out of here!"  In a situation like this not
even the biggest star in school sports were above begging, "I promise not
tell anyone that you were here!"

"I'm sure of that already," replied Garret.  He stepped closer to Paul and
reached for the blanket.  Paul flinched and clutched the woolly cloth
tighter around him.  "Come on!" insisted the man, "I'll make sure you enjoy
this as much as I will."  He tugged at the blanket and brought Paul closer
to him.  The boy seemed frantic and cornered.  He reached up and stroked
the young face with the back of his hand.  He reached around Paul's head
and brought their faces closer together.  He looked at the boy's handsome
countenance, light fuzz grew along his sideburns, a strong jaw line, high
cheekbones, frightened eyes that looked at him nervously.  He was delighted
by the beautiful fear.

"If you hurt me I'll kill you," Garret hissed.  He pulled Paul's head
closer and down.  Paul thought the man wanted to kiss him; instead the
man's hand brought him to face a large nipple and a cute little golden
ring.

"Lick it!" he heard the order, and obeyed.

The sensation was electric.  The young tongue was whipping at the
nipple. It circled the dark areola and lifted the little ring out of the
way so the pointy tongue could get at the hardened tip.  Garret threw his
head back and exhaled.  His chest and upper arms came out in goose flesh as
it tingled under Paul's ministrations.  Paul moved his attention to the
ring itself and was vibrating it with fast flicks.  He took the ring
between his front teeth, taking care not to give the man a reason to kill
him.  The tugging motion made Garret's knees shiver with pleasure.  His
hand, still holding Paul's crew cut, moved the young man's mouth to his
other nipple to have a repeat performance.  Paul did not disappoint him as
he rested his hands on the square shoulders.  Paul's tongue did not desist.
Garret slipped his hands underneath the blanket, and Paul let it drop to
the floor.

"See, this isn't so bad, is it?" he encouraged Paul.  His hands roamed down
Paul's back, happy to find it ripped and warm, and indented along the
spine.  His hands trailed even further to cup the hard bulbous gluteus that
sped the boy along a field for tries.  His fingers found the deep crack and
they traced along it until he felt Paul give a hesitant shrug.

"Please mister, I have never done anything like this."  Garret could hear
the fear in the young voice.

"I'll be sure to make it memorable then," he declared, appreciating the
look of defeat on Paul's quiet face.  He released Paul and looked
instructively at the crumpled blanket.  Paul spread it again and sat down
to look at Garret kick off his boots and unbutton his jeans.  He gasped as
he saw the huge dick that jolted out.  Paul could not take his eyes of the
balls thrust forward by what seemed like a little leather strap that bound
them to the uncircumcised dick, bulging with dark blue veins, and moist
with slick pre-cum.  Paul told himself that he wasn't queer, but he knew a
good-looking cock when he saw one.  He thought that this was going to be
the first time having to suck on one when instead Garret came down to join
him on the blanket.

"Do you know that you're a fucking good looking boy?" the man asked him.
Paul blushed.  He felt himself pushed back.  The naked man sat astride him
and bent over like a vampire over his victim to suck on his throat.
Urgency drove Garret on.  He licked and suckled on Paul's torso and found
bliss hiding just under the soft skin that had not yet been corrupted by
time.  He traced the shallow muscled indents all along the chest and
stomach until his face hovered over the white skinned dick that pulsated
rhythmically.  He wasn't taken aback to find that the boy had a boner too.
He dragged his stubbly chin across the cock head once to goad a groan from
the boy just in time to take the entire penis into his mouth and suck on it
like it was a lollipop.  Paul moaned appreciatively.  He had abandoned all
hope of not doing this and let himself be ravaged; he had promised himself
not to enjoy it.  He enjoyed it.  Mindless abandon did not let him protest
as Garret spread his legs and was now doing the stubble thing to his ball
sack.  Nor did he complain when Garret pulled his legs apart and up, and
sucked with massive pressure on his perineum.  It felt as if his entire
body collapsed into that spot just then.  It was the best physical
sensation he has ever had in his life, until only a moment later.  Paul
felt the man licking his ass, compulsively he wanted to back away and have
nothing to do with such a disgusting act, but the feeling was fantastic.
His own cock was rock hard and dribbling clear white gel.  It took him a
moment to realize the man had lifted himself onto his knees.

"Turn over!" he heard the barked command.  Fear gripped him again.  He saw
the man was dripping some clear lube onto his own penis.  No! He thought in
alarm, but before he could say a thing the man had heaved him up and over.

	Garret took a moment to look down at the dimpled butt and hairless
ass that waited for him.  He told a friend once that if God existed, this
was the only place you could find proof: between the legs of a teenage boy.
The sheer beauty of what he saw did not distract him from what he intended
to do with it.  He didn't take time to relax the pucker that was enticing
him into fucking it.  He thought it a waste of time and asked where the joy
was in sliding it in easily.  Paul whimpered when he felt the huge bound
cock line up with his asshole. The last thing he was conscious of before
his body drove all sense out of him was the man saying;

"Mind you don't bite your tongue!"  Agony raced through him as he imagined
a submarine berthed in his ass.  Garret swooned with the feeling of hot
flesh enveloping his penis.  He felt the silky softness part around it and
could feel it push back at him as it tried to get him back out.  At first
he did not pump in and out, he just looked at what was left of his penis
outside the young body and where it entered and thought of it as the most
beautiful view anywhere.  He touched the shaking ass and ignored the silent
sobs that came from the boy.  He trailed his hand back up the back and
massaged the tensed muscles and straining shoulders until he felt the boy
relax a bit and get used to the dick that was lodged inside him.  This was
the way people were supposed to have sex, he started fucking the boy in
short, hard strokes.



Paul did not know what he was feeling.  It was at once the most
excruciating and fantastic physical experience of his life.  He could feel
his sphincter strained beyond propriety, yet grateful for the stimulation
of hundreds of nerve ending that never got any attention.  Even better was
the sensation even deeper inside.  There was a spot where he could feel his
own penis being stimulated even if it remained untouched on the outside.
It was the feeling he had in the mornings when he was piss hard, full, and
wonderfully itchy.  It was the first time his prostate was stimulated and
he loved it.  The short thrusts he felt invading him became longer and
longer.  Discomfort was abandoning him, and in its place mindless pleasure
settled.  The man had not stopped massaging his back and shoulders.  The
large hands reached around and were stroking his chest.  He felt the strong
fingers pinching and pulling at his nipples, not tenderly, but hurting him
delightfully.  One hand reached down and took hold of his hard dick.  A
clear sticky strand of pre-cum had dripped slowly to the blanket.  When the
man started jerking him he felt teeth biting into the back of his neck.  By
now Garret was thrusting away at him long and hard.  Paul realised he was a
bitch, and the thought brought a smile to his face.

	It felt as if time had stood still.  Endorphins was rushing through
both bodies when, without either of them cumming, Garret stopped.  Paul
felt as the massive dick was extracted from him, his body relaxed in
relief, but somehow it missed the alien presence.  Paul was still in
position trying to regain composure when the man asked,

"What's your name, boy?"  He could not keep himself from telling.  There
was no point in hiding such a trivial thing from someone who already knew
you body so intimately.

"You can take it like a man, Paul."  Garret seemed somewhat proud of his
foundling's guts, he had practically torn them out and the boy was not
whining about it.

"Now let's see if you can give it like a man."  Garret brusquely pulled
Paul to him and forced his tongue between Paul's lips.  He yanked Paul down
on top of him.  Paul was kissing Garret and the only reply he got when
asked a name back was;

"You don't need to no that little man!"  Paul felt even more like a bitch,
but was encouraged when two massive thighs lifted around him.

"You might wanna lube it up," he heard.  Paul reached for the torn sachet.
He squeezed some of the contents onto his dick.  Garret took hold of his
own knees and exposed his ass to Paul.  Paul's dick was hard and tormented
for the lack of attention; it screamed `No mercy!' as he dove it into the
man.  It sunk away easily, not because Garret had prepared himself, but
because Paul threw his entire weight behind it.  Paul thought he might pass
out with the sheer pleasure his penis was giving him.  His dick was feeling
better than it ever had.  If he could have left it where it was forever he
would have.  Instantly approving groans came from the beast below him and
he jerked and rammed his dick full length, in and out of the ass.  He
caught sight of the leather-bound cock beneath him and started jerking at
it with his hand.  It was dribbling with thick, white cum, but Garret was
not having an orgasm yet.  His ass was just having that much fun.

"Slow... down... little... man," Garret urged Paul, who didn't care, the
man was his bitch now and he was not to be told.  Neither saw it coming,
but they came at the same time.  Paul's body collapsed onto Garret and twin
jets of cum flowed between them and inside Garret.  The slick heat stuck
around Paul's dick, it had nowhere to go and sticking around his penis just
prolonged the joy of the orgasm.  Garret shuddered beneath the boy and
hugged him down hard until both lay dazed and breathing easily.

"Fuck yeah!" Paul said.

Outside three little rivulets of cum trailed down the wall below the
window.



Five

Garret's thoughts were flighty all day.  He had been on traffic duty so had
no time to speak to Michael.  He had found a note dropped into his locker
when he came back from lifting weights.  It was signed by Michael who had
asked to meet him at a milk bar close to the school he had gone to the
night before.  When he met Michael back at the bike he did not want to
complain about the action he had, but he was still looking to have it with
the blonde beauty, and he was not going to let Michael get away with
keeping that little treasure all to himself.  The stand-in was by no means
a disappointment, but there was still something to be said about the
younger ones, they were tender, and showed pain.  The boy, Paul, asked his
telephone number when they cleaned off and was getting dressed.  He would
have liked to give it to the boy, he was enthusiastic and wanted to be with
Garret again, but giving away his number was just not his style.  If he
really wanted to he could find the boy again, but second times with people
were always... second times.  Paul was different though.  Garret liked it
when he left the boys changed by what he had done to them, but by the end
of their experience the night before it looked as if Paul was more into it
than he himself was.  But today, today was a different day and he was
hoping Michael was setting up a scene with the blonde one.  He slipped into
his signature outfit and left for the milk bar.

	Two's company and three's a crowd, but four faces looking at him as
he walked into the bar was more than he expected.  Michael was there, and
the blonde one.  With them there was another boy he had never seen before,
and there was Paul, looking worried.  So Michael had decided to introduce
his entire stable, Garret thought.  He smiled as he sat down and saw
everyone sipping at chocolate milk shake, Paul's was untouched.

"So, what's up?" Garret asked into the crowd.  To his surprise it was the
blonde one who replied;

"I am William, this is my friend Emil.  You know Michael and Paul."  Garret
felt uneasy, never before had a boy spoken to him with so much assertion.
He recognized cunning and confidence when he saw it.

"We have a videotape, and several copies, of you having sex with a minor
whom you know as Paul."  Garret was dazed.  He heard a shrill sound in his
ears and bright lights flashed across his sight.  They had set him up like
the fool he was and he was furious.

Hateful anger seeped through him and he looked at Paul as the disgusting
bait they had used to trap him with.

"Don't blame Paul, we're blackmailing him too."  Garret calmed a bit and
was thinking of Paul as a possible ally to get out of this mess.

"How old are you Paul." He asked the timid boy who looked at him
hopefully."  William interjected;

"He is sixteen, so don't even think `consenting adults'."  Garret was
getting scared, he had no intention of going to jail, even if he could have
some fun there he also knew what they did to policemen in lock-up.  William
continued his speech;

"Neither one of you have nothing to worry about, we have no objection to
what you did, but from now on both of you will be good boys, and not be the
bastards you were being until now.  Who knows, we might all end up being
friends."  A victorious smile shone from William.

"Would you like a milk shake?" he asked.



The End



Copyright 2008 Sebastian Thomas Oakland

If you'd like to comment I'd like to read `em: Sebastian.oak@gmail.com