Date: Mon, 16 Jan 2012 12:40:18 -0800 (PST)
From: CJDenton <mcitywriter@yahoo.com>
Subject: Corpus Crispin

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			  >>> Corpus Crispin <<<
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Chapter 1:
Corpus Christi, TX, Friday, 4:15 PM, Ayers Park Academy

"Where's daddy?" I asked as Jag took my backpack and pushed me towards the
backseat of a late-model sedan that wasn't the normal silver Jaguar he
drove me around in.

"We'll talk on the way," Jag said and looked around at the crowded pick-up
area behind my school. His

"And whose car is this?" I persisted.

I was actually a little happy he got me out of soccer practice just before
we went out to do laps. It was an awful South Texas heat out today and I
really don't like soccer, but daddy insists I take full advantage of the
academy that named it's field after him (Of course, his paying for the
construction of it had helped).

But everything seemed wrong. Jag was tense, he was always tense, that's his
job. But this was over the top, even for him. He pushed me towards the car
with urgency.

"Get...  In... Now," Jag barked, lowering his head to catch my eyes.
"Please," he added, sensing my fright.

Jag's a pretty imposing character when he needs to be. That's precisely why
daddy hired him two years back. I know Jag's not his real name, It's
probably Julio or something but daddy told me not to ask personal questions
of him.

He put me in the backseat and then sprinted around and got in, peeling out
a little too fast and raising a few eyebrows of the soccer moms in their
cars, reading books in the pick-up line.

"What's going on? Where's daddy?" I started to panic but Jag waived me off,
flipped open his cell and said, "I got him.... we're go.... Don't worry."
He clapped it shut, rolled down the window and tossed his phone out as we
pulled out on to Shoreline and sped north towards the skyline.

"Your cell," Jag demanded, reaching behind him with open palm.

"But...  I... What the fuck... dude... You're freaking me out!" I started
to panic.

"Please, Cris, I'll explain when we stop but please give me your phone."

I fished it out of my backpack and handed it to him as he rolled to a stop
just next to a rusted pick-up truck. He reached through the window and
tossed it into the pick-up's bed just as it pulled to make a left turn. We
went straight, up through downtown and onto the harbor bridge.

"That was a 400 dollar phone, you asshole! Daddy's going to fire you when
he finds out." I yelled and then realized I sounded more scared than
angry. Now I had no way of calling for help.

"There's a bag on the floor with some clothes. Change," Jag ignored my
threats.

We made it across the bridge and out of the city. I slipped off my jersey
and found a long-sleeve gray t-shirt in the bag and slipped it on. I was
pretty used to Jag seeing me half clothed. He'd walked in on me a few times
while doing his security check and sometimes he'd go swimming with me when
Daddy was working in his home office.

I slipped the jeans on over my soccer shorts and changed from cleats to my
pair of converse he'd put in the bottom of the bag. He'd also put a blue
baseball cap that I didn't recognize but I squashed my blonde, gelled
spikes to put it on. I found socks and briefs too and I tried to picture
him going through my drawers to decide.

Jag drove another hour in silence down tiny farm roads along the coast
before he pulled into a small roadside seafood shack that backed up to the
bay.

He ordered us two of the only salads on the menu and a beer for himself,
bottled water for me. He looked across the table at me and sighed. I had my
arms folded against my t-shirt and was staring at his stomach.  He reached
across and pulled my hands onto the table. I felt like a child with both my
small, pale hands in his oversized paw.

"We have to disappear for a little bit. You know the case your dad is
working on," Jag started, giving my hands a gentle squeeze.

"He's prosecuted dozens of drug rings, daddy's not scared of anyone. I want
to go home. He needs to know I'm safe," I felt my face warm up but swore to
myself I wouldn't show fear.

"Who do you think planned for your safety? This is the big one, Crispin.
The threats are getting more specific and now they have a bounty on his
head... and yours and your family," Jag rubbed my left hand with his
thumb. "It'll be over in a few weeks and then he can join us, but until
then we need to be out of sight, out of Corpus Christi."

"Can I call him? Where are we going? Is he going to join us?" I was talking
really fast as panic swept over me and he put a finger to my lips as a
couple of truckers slid in to the booth across from us.

"Quiet," he warned, "You can't call him. You'll be safe but you have to
trust me, Crispin. You have to do what I tell you; when I tell you."

"What can YOU do? Mexican Kung Fu?" I laughed but sobered up when I saw
Jag's glare.

"I've lived in your home for two years and you think I'm Mexican?" Jag
raised an eyebrow at me and shoved a carrot stick in his mouth.

"Well, you're dark, muscled and have an accent. Plus you stare, Mexican
guys always stare. I assumed you were like Mexican CIA or something," I
looked down at the table and blushed. He laughed and reached over to give
my chin a gentle cuff.

"I'm Israeli, actually. Eight years in special ops. I've guarded important
people through some of the world's most dangerous places. I can handle a 16
year old boy so long as he follows what I say," Jag said, his voice turning
serious.

"So why would you come from that to work for daddy?" I asked.

"I was offered very good money. And your father helped me out," Jag said.

"How did he help you?" I asked, wondering what a Texas attorney could have
done for him.

"Not important... I owed him my life and that extends to his family.
You're safe, Crispin. I promise," Jag reached over and lifted my chin to
look at him as he said this. "I promise," he repeated.

"How old are you anyways?" I asked thinking maybe now I should get to know
the man who was trying to keep me alive.

"I'll be 29 in a few weeks," he shrugged, "Anything else?"

"I'm 16," I offered in return.

"I know," he laughed, "I know everything about you. You're 5 feet 6 inches
tall and growing. You weighed 105 pounds on your sports physical last
month. Your father wants me to work with you to build that up. I know your
likes and dislikes, allergies and fears. It's my job."

"Woah," I was a little freaked. I sighed, looked out the window over the
bay as the sun set behind the outer sand bars. I turned back to him and
nodded my head.

We drove a few more hours. Jag put me in the front seat this time and I was
a little surprised when I woke up with my head against his shoulder. I sat
up quickly and blinked against the pitch dark night.  He reached over and
rubbed the back of my head. He pulled off the highway into the parking lot
of a small motel.

"It smells poor here," I said as we stepped up towards our room.

"It's supposed to. It's not the type of place you'd be found. I packed what
you'll need for a few days. Your father gave us a good stash to buy
whatever else you need... within reason," Jag said once we'd gotten up to
the room and he laid two small travel bags on one of the double beds. He
pulled out my Houston Astros pajama pants, a pair of blue briefs and a tank
top from one bag and handed them to me as he pointed to the small bathroom.

I showered quickly, wrapped a towel around my pale body and moved over to
the mirror. He'd sneaked in and laid out a toothbrush, paste and a comb
while I'd been in the shower. I brushed my teeth, combed my blonde hair
into it's usual "neat messy" look. My green eyes were a little red from
something strange in the air.

I dressed, then came out to find his pile of brown muscles stretched out on
the bed in a pair of black boxers and black dress socks. He was flipping
the channels on the TV and looked up at me with a nod, "All clean?"

I nodded but stared at his body. I wasn't used to seeing him out of his
standard dress shirt and pants except for the few times we'd gone swimming
together when he wore board shorts. His boxers rode up a little on his left
thigh and I caught a small glimpse of an oversized left nut.

He ran a hand through his tousled black hair and yawned while giving me an
odd, questioning look then straightened his boxers. I realized I was
staring, shook my head and then went to get under the covers of the bed by
the window.

I rolled over on my side to look at him as he scanned the news channels,
probably checking to ensure my father hadn't maid the headlines. Something
felt weird... I crept over to the bag he had pulled my clothes from and dug
around for a few minutes but didn't find it.

"What do you need, Crispin?" Jag said and came over to pull the bag open
all the way.

"I...  nothing. It's ok," I said and went back to my bed.

"Ah!"  Jag exclaimed suddenly and went to the other bag. He pulled out a
small stuffed tiger. "You thought I'd forget Captain Tiger?" he laughed
gently.

"No...  I..." I turned to hide my blush. Jag came over to stand next to me
and he put Capt. Tiger down between my arms. I saluted him then hugged him
to my chest and whispered, "Thank you."

"You forget I check in on you a few times every night. Tiger is always in
your arms," Jag said as he sat on the bed next to me.

I rolled over to look up at him. "You do?"

"Your father would be heartbroken if any harm came to you. I make sure that
doesn't happen," He assured and gave me a sympathetic look and rubbed my
shoulder. "Everything will be back to normal soon."

He flipped through TV channels until he finally turned it off and then
extinguished the bedside lamp. I felt him hover over me for a minute and
then he pulled back the covers in the other bed and soon I heard a light
snore. I laid there, eyes closed but awake for what seemed like an hour.

A bang awakened me, or maybe it was in my dream. But I sat bolt upright and
looked around, my heart racing. It must have been nothing because Jag was
fast asleep. I crept to the window and looked out to see a Mexican guy in
gym shorts and a baggy t-shirt crossing the parking lot. He paused near our
car and looked around to check for witnesses before he came up to kill
us. He made his way past the last few cars and then went to the coke
machine by the grimy pool. He bought a drink and then disappeared into a
room on the first floor.

I finally exhaled and took a step back, bumping up against Jag's chest.  I
jumped and he caught me. "Hey, hey, it's ok, it's ok," he pulled me against
his chest and put his head against my shoulder. I shivered against him.

"I...I...," I looked up at him, open mouthed and hyperventilating.

"Shhh, shhh," he calmed me, "It's ok." Jag took a step back and sat on my
bed, pulled me into his lap and held me against his chest. "You want to
sleep in my bed?"

I nodded against his chest as my tension eased. He stood up, pulling me up
into his arms like a small child, took Tiger from my bed and carried me
over to his. He laid down, settled me into his side, put Tiger in my arms,
pulled me against his chest and covered me with the blanket.

Morning came quickly. Eased by his reassuring heartbeat against my ear, I
got some rest. I crawled out from the blankets to see him pulling on a pair
of jeans and a touristy t-shirt. He came over and sat next to me, "We have
to get going."

"To where?" I asked.

"North, a place up north where a small white teenager won't stick out so
much," he laughed. "Somewhere that looks like a place Crispins come from."

I fell asleep again as we crossed the border into Oklahoma. The weather
turned gray and cold when I opened my eyes again as Jag stopped for a drink
and restroom break. He followed me into the small restroom and secured the
door behind us. He stood against the wall behind me and I felt his eyes on
me.

"I can't go with you in here..." I muttered angrily.

"Hold it if you want, but it's a long drive ahead," he dismissed.

"That's kind of gay, dude." I tried to shame him into privacy.

"That's kind of my job," Jag said and put an unexpected hand on my
shoulder.

"Dude," I jumped. "I REALLY can't pee with you touching me."

"Hurry up," Jag backed off, "We need to keep moving."

I have this thing I do when I'm in a public restroom with other guys. I
purse my lips and breathe in and for some reason that worked. This time was
no exception and soon we were back on the road with two bottles of water
and a small bag of apples to snack on.

It was dark by the time we pulled up the circle driveway to a large home on
a small hill on the outskirts of Tulsa. Jag pulled behind it to a large
garage area as though he were familiar with whoever lived here.

A tall, dark, handsome man was leaning against the back door smoking a
cigarette and eyeing us. Jag put his hand up to tell me to wait and then
hopped out to talk to the man. They went back and forth in some language
that I assumed must be arab talk or whatever Jag spoke in Israel. The man
waved his cigarette around as he spoke and then nodded his head vigorously
before poking his head into the house and yelling something in his
language.

Jag came back to the car and walked around to my door to let me out.
"Mouth closed, follow me," he whispered as he grabbed our bags then went on
talking to the stranger who led us to a small cottage down a walkway behind
the large house.

He unlocked it for us, opened the door and flicked on a light. He handed
Jag a set of keys and gave me an appraising smile. I caught his eyes and he
raised his head in a nod that indicated he approved of my body. Jag shook
the man's hand and pushed him back towards the door, closing it behind him.

The cottage was one small room with a fireplace, a kitchen area along one
side and a small door that led into a bathroom. It had a small daybed, a
cramped couch, TV, and a few barstools near the kitchen counter. It
reminded me of the pool house at our home where daddy had his set-up for a
sports night with huge leather couches around a giant flatscreen. Jag moved
around the small cottage and checked all the windows as I sat on the couch
and thought how much I missed my phone.

"Settle in, don't turn on the TV. They've offered us dinner. I'll bring
some back for us. Don't open the door,Cris," Jag pulled me against him and
kissed my forehead.

I pulled back and looked up at him angrily. I started to protest, but I was
way out of my element here.He closed the door behind him and locked it. I
sighed and paced around. The small fridge had bottled water, energy drinks
and beer. I went to pee and found some weird muslim smelling soap by the
sink. I sniffed my hands and recoiled at the weird mixture of rose petals
and old wood.

"Crispin," Jag called as he pushed the door open. He carried two plastic
cartons and forks inside and set them on the small coffee table. I wasn't
hungry but I went and flopped down next to him.

"What is it?" I asked as he opened the cartons and pushed one into my lap.

"Lamb with rice and vegetables. It's one of my favorites. No one here makes
it this good," Jag said and sniffed at it happily with a wide, foolish
grin.

"Like a baby sheep?" I asked with disgust, poking at it with my fork. Jag
frowned and cocked his head to one side as if to say, "Really?  You're that
uncultured?"

"You will try it," he demanded, "It's healthy for you. You need the
protein."

I set it on the coffee table and leaned forward, putting my face in my
hands. "I want to go home... I want my room, my food, my phone, my life. I
can't eat sheep in Oklahoma and the soap here stinks," I started to break
down but I wasn't going to let him see my cry.  "Please, I can hide out in
my room at home. I'm sure daddy has things calmer by now. I need to call
him. He'll understand."

"Look at me," Jag said and lifted my face in his hands. "I'm not going to
ask you to be happy here... we can get new soap and food you like
tomorrow. I promise you this is for your best."

I nodded, sniffled back a tear and picked up the food he'd brought me.  Jag
picked up the fork and used it to slice off a piece of the meat, got a bit
of the veggies and held it to my lips, "Try it, it's exquisite."

I took the fork from his hands, "Ok," I put it on my tongue and it didn't
taste awful. I chewed and forced a smile and nodded. He beamed with a
personal cultural victory and went to work on his own food. He paused to
turn on the TV and tune in a show I liked to watch at home.

"This is the one with the three boys working on a cruise ship, right?" he
asked.

"You watch this?" I asked with a weird smile.

"Your father has me check the DVR list to make sure you're not getting into
anything too strange. I googled it," he said without any hint that this was
a major invasion of my privacy.

"What else do you... check?" I asked suddenly reviewing all the
questionable websites I liked to look at and the texts I'd sent to friends
and the guy I liked.

"We don't need to go over that," he laughed, "But as I said before...  I
know your likes. Don't worry. I only share with your father what he wants
to know."

"Do you check my texts too?" I asked, setting the carton of food down as
panic hit my stomach.

"We know about Rylan. Your father thinks it's a phase," Jag was completely
shameless in this discussion.

"What do you think?" I probed, unsure of wanting an answer.

"I think you're a boy who is figuring out who he is. It's a natural
development," Jag set his food down and turned towards me. "Let's finish
your show... Please eat some more."

I made a good dent in the food as Jag finished his carton. I gave him the
rest of mine to eat and he polished it off. We watched a little more TV in
silence before my yawns prompted Jag to send me off to the shower.

We got ready for bed and he offered me the one bed but he's a tall guy and
the couch isn't really long enough. Still, he insisted. I laid there in my
pajamas, holding Captain Tiger, until I heard a light snore from the
couch. It had been a few days since I'd jerked off but he seemed to have
the wake-up reflexes of a guard dog, training, I assumed.

I thought about going into the bathroom but he'd probably wake up and the
thin walls of the small cottage offered little privacy. I rolled over, my
kick-stand pressing against the creaky mattress. Damnit, it made too much
noise to even lightly hump the pillow.

I finally drifted off to sleep and had a strange dream that I was climbing
up a pile of stone pavers, chasing a grey kitten. I was trying to help the
little cat but it kept going higher and soon the pile started to shake. My
heart sank like that feeling you get when the roller coaster reaches the
top of the hill and everyone around you raises their hand and screams while
I bury my head in daddy's shoulder. Only he wasn't there and below me were
guards looking for me.

I sat up with a start and heard the tall, dark, handsome stranger pacing
out on the small walkway. I heard him lift a garbage lid, toss a bag in,
slam it shut and cough. It was enough to get me on my feet, holding my
tiger, and pad over to Jag. I was two steps away from him when he reached
out and grabbed my thigh.

"What's wrong?" he sat up sleepily, "You ok?"

"No...  I... can you..." I started to ask him to come sleep with me but
then I felt stupid and immediately back-tracked.

"C'mon," Jag stood up and grabbed my hand. He pulled me and tiger back to
the small bed and laid down on his side against the wall. He laid an arm
across the bed and patted the mattress with his other hand. "Right here."

I laid down on my side in the space he left for me, my neck against his
arm, his warm breath on the back of my neck. Jag closed his arms around me
and pulled me back against his chest then laid his head on the pillow
behind me.

"Good night, Crispin," he said and rubbed my chest lightly.

The touch of his bare chest against my back, his arms around me, his scent
of male brought back my erection. Now I really wasn't going to get to
sleep. I squirmed around a little to bury my erection in the mattress, but
he held me firmly in place. I slid Captain Tiger down to cover my erection.

"Settle down, little one," he laughed, "You need me to sing to you?"

"Please don't," I said sarcastically.

"Your loss, I had several number one hits on the radio in Israel," Jag said
with sincerity.

"Really?"  I turned to look up at him; intrigued and unsure.

"No, little one," he laughed and brushed back my hair, "Sorry, you're too
easy to trick. I could tell you a story?"

"Yeah, that works," I said and put my head against the pillow as he hugged
me to him again and started telling some weird Jewy folktale with lamps and
figs and shit. I closed my eyes and started to drift into that
not-awake-but-not-asleep phase.

"You still awake?" Jag brushed my cheek with a finger. I didn't respond and
he leaned down and kissed my cheek and told me good night. We laid there a
few minutes as our breathing synchronized, lulling off to sleep.

I woke up next to Jag's heartbeat. I'd rolled onto my back in the night and
he was partially on top of me, a heavy muscled leg rested over mine. His
arm was slung across my stomach and his hand gripped my right arm. Captain
Tiger had fallen off the bed and was eyeing us from a few feet away on the
floor. I blinked up at him as the morning sun crept over us from the
window.

Jag's chin rested atop my head. I looked over at his mostly smooth, muscled
chest. He had a slight smatter of hair between his pecs that splayed up to
his collar bone. I don't know why but I reached over and traced a finger
down the rivets of his stomach. He was an incredibly built man. I guess
that was something hammered into him during his army days.

He has two small brown smudges of nipples. I reached up and pushed at one,
the only soft part of his torso. It was a little pointy from the cool
morning. I have such a strange mix of fear and respect for him.  Before
this, I'd just seen him as part of daddy's army of domestics.

We have a housekeeper who seems to change every year but is usually a
soft-spoken older hispanic woman. They never stay long and they never move
in. Daddy doesn't like to share help with a family and most of our
housekeepers have kids or grandkids who demand attention.

The groundskeeper/handyman has been the one staple we've had since I was
very small. He keeps to himself and lives in a small room off the
garage. He doesn't have more than a few hours of work a day to do, but our
house and grounds are always in impeccable shape. He usually hangs out in
his room doing old man things like crosswords and reading the paper. Daddy
allows him long-distance whenever he wants to call his kids or
anything. But he always jumps when daddy wants something fixed or repainted
or changed.

Jag came in shortly after daddy started taking on high-profile cases for
the government. He just showed up one day, hulking around in his uniform of
pressed dress shirt and dark pants. More than our security, I think daddy
wanted a friend around. They watch sports together, workout together and
always get along, but Jag never ate dinner with us and always disappeared
when daddy spent father time with me going over homework or going out to
eat. Usually, he'd drive us and then wait at the bar or in the car.

So I'd never given him much thought other than a few jerk-off fantasies
when I'd see him running around in shorts and a t-shirt during his
workouts. And now here he was, laying on top of me. I couldn't help
touching him and his sleepy breathing indicated he didn't notice.

I touched at the waistband of his boxers. They were a little rumpled from
the night's sleep and pushed down slightly to where his stomach muscles
V'ed down into them. I helped them down a little more on his left side,
slowly. I was just getting a hint at his pubes when I heard a voice that
stopped my endeavor.

"Do I get to explore you next?" Jag asked.

"Uh Um... I was asleep," I stammered.

"Right, well don't stop on my account," he rubbed his hand over my chest
and down to the waistband of my pajama pants. I was full on tenting from
molesting him.

"It's ok to explore," Jag whispered as his lips found my ear.

"Did...  did you ever explore?" I asked.

"I did... quite a bit," his teeth rubbed against my ear lobe which did
nothing to bring down my erection.

"Uh hmm. Do you still... explore?" I asked.

"Not a lot, but if you need to... I don't mind. Boys are supposed to be
curious. Nothing to be afraid of," Jag's hand rubbed up and over my right
nipple. He tweaked it playfully.

"Ahh," I felt my heart pound a little faster, "So you are... like into guys
and stuff?"

"And stuff?" he paused, "What's stuff?"

"You know what I meant," I blushed.

"You're always so serious, little one," Jag traced the tip of his tongue
around the edge of my ear. "Just relax.... Can I touch you?"

"Yeah...  I guess so," I greenlit his hand as he rubbed it down and over
the tent of my pajamas. I lifted my ass up off the sheets, allowing him to
slide them down to my thighs. His hand wandered over the bulge in my blue
briefs and he gripped my cock lightly, running two fingers along either
side of my shaft.

"Ahhh," My cock twitched at his touch.I arched my back to push it up
against his palm.

"You like that?" Jag asked as he gripped it and pulled it up, stretching my
briefs.

"Yeah...  don't stop," I breathed heavily against his chest.

He pumped it a few times and then squeezed the shaft hard between his
fingers. A small spot of precum formed along the waistband of my briefs.

"Uhhh," I moaned as he started to pump it lightly. He leaned down and
kissed my forehead and whispered, "That feels good?"

"Yes, uhhh, yeah don't stop... please," I whined under his touch.

Jag pumped my cock lightly, slowly, edging me towards a few days of pent up
spew. He was in no rush as he kissed my cheek and held me against his
chest. His own cock was fully tenting his boxers, splayed out across my
thigh.

Feeling myself close to cumming, I wanted to free my cock from my briefs,
but when my hand started to slide down, Jag picked it up and put it against
my chest. He kept up the slow, steady rhythm as my body started to tense
and shiver under him.

"You're close," he said. Lay back, enjoy it.

"Ahhhh," I felt it building up my cock. I wanted him to go faster, he
deliberately slowed down to edge me a little. My face screwed up as my
tummy started to contract, "Ahhhhh faster, please," I whined.

"Shhh, I got this," he assured and kept up the slow, steady rhythm. The
precum stain in my briefs started to spread more as his grip tightened. He
was slow-milking me and pulling me tightly against his chest.

"I'm cumming," I breathed and Jag sped up slightly. He pumped my cock as it
started to erupt against my briefs. Shot after shot appeared in the fabric
and it started to leak through against his palm.

"Ahhhhhh Uhhhhh," I started to buck my hips under him as my cock gave up
its contents, straining and staining my blue briefs.

Jag leaned down and put his lips to mine, sucking in my moans as he pumped
every drop he could get out of my cock. The warm sticky mess coated the
front of my briefs by the time he went back to the slow, steady rhythm,
emptying me fully. He kissed me deeply, his warm, morning-breath did
nothing to dampen my pleasure. I sucked on his tongue as instinct overtook
me.

My body gave a few last shakes before I settled down against the sheets and
Jag rolled on top of me, grinding his boxers against my soaked, sticky
briefs. His cock pushed between my thighs and I clenched them to hold
on. He pushed down his boxers and started to ride me, his heavy dark tool
poking through my thighs.

His tongue worked its way deeper into my mouth and touched lightly against
my gag reflex as he pounded me in that same slow, steady rhythm. Jag
finally arched his back and pushed off of me as his lips pressed into a
thin pensive line.

"I cum," He said and let out a deep groan as I felt his cock spasm and
erupt against my legs. He sped up, then reached down to grip his cock and
pump it, spraying hot seed across my briefs and tummy.

"Ahhhh fuck," he growled as he milked the last of his juice and it dripped
down against my tummy. His torso gave a few last primal shakes as he stared
down at me with pained pleasure.

"Ahhhh Rah!" he roared as he shook out the last few drops and bit his lip,
staring down at me with confused lust and big brown eyes.

"So, beautiful, boy," he said as his breathing slowed and his lips spread
into a smile, "Always so beautiful," he reached down and put a hand to my
cheek, pressing his thumb against my lips.

I blushed, stared up at him and felt a smile creep across my lips.

"Thank you," I said, not sure how to respond. He gave a short laugh, then
leaned down to kiss me again.

Jag got off the bed and used one arm to toss me over his shoulder. He
carried me off to the shower with a few playful smacks to my ass before
setting me down on the cold tile. We peeled off our sticky underwear and
Jag tossed them on the floor.

He rubbed soap all over my body. I still didn't like the scent, but hot
water, warm man rubbing a strong, soapy hand over me made it feel ok.  I
relaxed against his body as he rubbed my tummy, bringing my cock back up to
full mast.

"No, we have things to do today," he laughed as I looked up at him with a
whine. We got clean and then he stepped out and brought me a towel from the
small cabinet.

We got dressed and headed into town using a mercedes that belonged to one
of the people whose house we were using. I didn't see the old car that we'd
used to get there. Jag told me not to question when I asked what happened
to it.

Jag packed a few things, including Captain Tiger in a backpack and tossed
it over his shoulder. He said we should never leave anything we can't live
without. He opened the front passenger door for me and waited for me to get
in like he usually did when he and daddy picked me up from school. He put
the backpack in the trunk and we sped off to the supercenter near the
freeway.

I'd never been in one of these. Of course I never went in any kind of store
unless it was clothes, games or sports gear since our housekeepers did the
shopping at home. It was a crazy store, huge and stocked with anything and
everything.

"This place looks sad," I started as I walked through the security gates
bug Jag grabbed my shoulder and led me over to get a cart. We wandered the
aisles as he picked up supplies we'd need. He got a first aid kit and some
basic medicines plus an inhaler in case I had a reaction to anything in
this new environment. He let me pick out the body wash and shampoo that I
wanted and got some extra toothbrushes and bathroom supplies.

I started to wander over to the game section but Jag grabbed my arm and
told me to stay with him. Finally we got to the clothing section.  There
was nothing I wanted, lots of flannel and cheap t-shirts and plain, ugly
jeans. I protested a little but he said it was just back up stuff. Their
sports clothing wasn't all that bad so I stuck to baseball t-shirts and
workout gear. He got a few different hats for us and some cheap sunglasses.

"This place has everything!" I said excitedly, "It's all gross stuff, but
wow..."

"Think of it as an adventure," he told me, "It's a different culture."

We got food last; lots of fruit and vegetables. We headed up to the cash
register and Jag pulled two hundred dollar bills out of a small pocket
inside his jeans. He paid for it and we loaded up the car and headed back.

We headed back to the house, but when we pulled onto the block, he saw a
few police cars in front of the house.

"Ahh fuck me!" Jag slowed down enough to see an office hiding in the
bushes, watching the house. There weren't any officers out on the road and
the officer in the bushes didn't turn to look at us. Jag pushed me down
into the floor of the car and kept right on cruising, cut through a few
different streets and got back on the highway.

"Were they looking for us? Why would they be looking for us?" I asked with
panic as Jag got onto the freeway and sped towards the skyline.

"I don't think so... I just didn't want us getting mixed up with it. I'd
have too much to explain since I'm not your father and if you ended up on
the news, the cartels would be able to find where we went. It's best to
avoid suspicion. We move on," Jag reached over and pet my hair then rested
his arm around my shoulders.

We drove through the other side of Tulsa and Jag stopped at a mall in the
next town. He parked near the edge of the mall next to a dirty mini-van
with all kinds of My-Kid-Plays-A-Sport stickers. He grabbed a small tool
from the backpack and hopped out. In under two minutes, he jumped back in,
started the car and rolled slowly out of the parking lot.

"What was that about?" I asked.

"I traded license plates. Cars like that have drivers who won't notice for
a few months. They also usually have clean plates and don't get pulled
over," he nodded without looking at me and we sped off back onto the
freeway.

"Where are we going to go? We can't just keep driving off places," I felt
my heart racing and a few tears formed in my eyes. I sniffed them back but
looked over at him, open-mouthed and flushed.

"I'll find something. Don't worry. You're with me... You're safe," Jag
hugged me to his side as we sped past a billboard that advertised Missouri,
"You're safe, little one."

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think.
-CJ :)
http://cjwritesfilth.blogspot.com