Date: Fri, 19 May 2017 02:25:54 +0000 From: John Marshall Subject: Cox Cocks Chapter fifteen This story does directly follows the previous story, "Jason Turns Ten" however it begins some two years later with largely the same group of characters and many new ones added . The saga which began with "The Working Boys,"continued with "Ecstasy Island," followed by "Ecstasy Renewed," "EcstasyInc," "The Pharm Boys," and "Erotic Isle: the Endless Orgasm." Like my other stories, it is unorthodox but quite seductive, as are the figures depicted. Like "The Working boys," "Ecstasy Island," "Ecstasy Renewed," and "Jason Turns Ten" (all found under Bisexual Adult/Youth), as well as "EcstasyInc," and "The Pharm Boys" and "Erotic Isle: the Endless Orgasm." (found under Gay Adult/Youth), this one is also written in third person with each chapter proceeding in something close to real time. I use extensive dialogue to carry the story along and intense character development. In this story, the sexual encounters are primarily gay. Once more, this story is extremely orgasmic with all ejaculating dialogue written in UPPER CASE. If you do not wish to be exposed to such material as described, leave now. If you are too young for this sort of thing, leave now. If reading this causes you to break the law where you live, leave now. Otherwise, take the time now to get naked and get your cock hard. Start strokin' it. Jack yourself off as you read and see if you can time your own blasts of naked sexual pleasure with those of the characters in the book. This one averages from one to four orgasms per chapter. For that reason, I don't recommend reading more than one chapter at a time. Any more than that might be hazardous to your sexual health...especially your hard, throbbing cock. Note: All drugs mentioned are fictitious. If you like what you read, let me know at crackerjacker18@hotmail.com. I answer all e-mails. THE COX COCKS CHAPTER FIFTEEN "JAMEY!!" Jim London knelt down, opening his arms wide as Jamey leaped from the bed and ran naked to him his hard, throbbing young boycock bobbing before him as he all but FELL into his father's arms, kissing him madly. "DAD, what are YOU doing here?" Jamey gushed "Is there...someplace we could go, a little less..." Jim London began. "Of course," Jan told him, "Out on the terrace. This way." The two fathers with their two sexually aroused sons followed Jan outside to a conversational grouping of two loveseats and two comfortable chairs where they seated themselves. "Jamey, I can't tell you how great it is to see you again, I've missed you...I can't tell you how much," Jim hugged and kissed his sweetly beautiful, slender, young son. "Me too," Jamey hugged his father back. "How long you staying?" "Not long," Jim sighed, suddenly growing serious. "We have to get back to Atlanta as soon as possible. "I'm sorry you had to...you know, see us...us like that," Jamey expressed his embarrassment at their meeting. "I'm not," Jim laughed. "I rather enjoyed the show. You and...Jet, is it?" "Jetson J. Cox, glad to meet you Mr. London," Jet stood and extended his hand politely. "Jamey has told me a lot about you." "Oh, god, I hope not," Jim smiled, shaking hands with the beautiful young eleven-year-old. "He said you got one hell of a big cock," Jet replied. "JET! Forgodsake," both his father and Jan gasped loudly in horror. "Yours is pretty impressive too," Jim, not to be outdone, complimented the boy. "How come you can't stay longer, Dad, I'm sure Jan could get you a room at the hotel," Jamey asked again. "We...we can't, Jamey...you see..." Jim began. " Jamey, I'm afraid I have some pretty bad news." "Bad news? What?" Jamey's face grew sereious. "Jamey, your grandfather died a couple days ago," Jim broke the news. "He had a stroke. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you earlier but I didn't want to use the phone and....I wanted to tell you myself. "He died?" Jamey murmurred in shock. "His last words were..."tell Jamey I love him," Jim added as he watched his son's eyes tear up, his shoulders slump, his cock grow limp. "Granddad...Grandad London?" Jamey sobbed as Jet put his arm around Jamey's shoulders, hugging, starting to tear up himself. "I'm afraid so," Jim said as he moved to set next to Jamey, also hugging him, struggling to control his own tears. "That's why I can't stay. The funeral is tomorrow afternoon. Mr. Cox....Jack has offered to fly us back to Miami this afternoon then on to Atlanta on the Cox private jet tonight." "Grandad...Addy?" Jamey struggled to overcome a long moment of denial as he wiped tears from his eyes, suddenly wishing he had something to cover his nakedness. Sensing the boy's plight, Jack took off his sportscoat and wrapped it around the small boy, making his appear still smaller and still more vulnerable in his grief. "Addy?" Jan questioned softly. "Short for Addison...Addison Abel London." Jim explained. "He's always called him that since he was old enough to talk." "Addison London, Chairman of the Board, the Averill Group, if I recall," Jan said mostly to himself. "I didn't know there was a connection. I hadn't heard of his death," "We just announced it publically late yesterday," Jim explained. "Jamey, I'm so sorry," Jan stood and hugged the trembling young boy, lifting him from his seat. "Jamey, I hate to rush, but....we need to get your clothes packed and..." Jim told his son. "I'll go pack his stuff," Jet volunteered. "But...he don't have nothin' to wear to a funeral." "I left a suit for him on the plane," Jim told the young boy. "That is, if he hasn't grown too tall for it," "That's good, suits aren't a big item here on the island," Jan tried to lighten the mood as they headed back inside. "Except for birthday suits." "You two are probably getting hungry, it's almost lunchtime," Jack reminded them as he heard his son's stomach growl. "My office is just over there, across the plaza and that monstrosity we jokingly call art," Jan suggested as Jet headed for the locker the two boys shared. "It's kind of crowded and noisy down below in the buffet but I can have something sent up." "Subs?" spoke for the first time in several minutes as he worked feverishly to wipe his tears on the arm of the jacket Mr. Cox had given him. When he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror. He almost gave it back. He looked rather pathetic and silly. "Subs it is," Jack agreed. "Make mine Italian. Jim?" "Ham and cheese," Jim ordered. "Steak and cheese with salami, mayo, jalopenas, onion, and mustard," Jamey put in. "Ho my goddddd," Jim gasped at the horrendous combination. "Son, you damned well better not get air sick." "With Pepto Bismol on the side," Jamey added as an afterthought, his sharp wit in no way diminished by his grief. Joking seemed to help, in fact. "You getting all that down?" Jack asked his impromptu aide. "Right, and drinks?" "Bud light?" Jim asked. "Bud light, Bud Dark, even Bud Heavy," Jan joked, taking his cue from Jamey. "The same for me," Jack told their "waiter." "Same for me, too, " Jamey ordered. "Yeah, sure...plain water, maybe a little ice for him," Jim ordered for his son. "Jalopenas on a Philly..." he muttered to himself, shaking his head as the four of them made their way down some steps, across a landing, then back up some more steps on the other side, then into the admin building. ---------------------- "You're actually going to...EAT...that?" Jim London eyed his son's massive twelve-inch bundle of heartburn. "Watch me," Jamey smiled as he took a massive bite, popping out his cheeks as he chewed. "Was granddad in pain?" "Jamey....please....don't talk with your mouth full," Jim told his son gently. Jack's sportscoat lay across the couch. Jamey had lived totally naked for so long he felt horribly uncomfortable wearing anything. Jamey swallowed, coughed, the swallowed again. "You okay?" Jack asked solicitously. Jamey nodded as he gulped down half a glass of water. "One too many jalopenas..." Jim suggested. "Well? Was he?" Jamey asked again. "Was he...oh, your granddad," Jim had lost track of the conversation. "No...I don't think so...just weak, paralized on his left side so his speech was slurred. He was hard to understand. He died peacefully." "What was it like when he died?" Jamey wanted to know as he ate, taking smaller bites, talking only between bites. "He...he just quit breathing," Jim recalled as Jan and Jack listened intently. "Couldn't they...you know, give him oxygen or something? Jamey reasoned. "He was wearing a mask," Jim explained. "They removed the tubes down his throat so he could talk." "Did...did he say anything else?" Jamey asked, his voice choking a little even though his eyes remained dry. "Not really," Jim decided there was nothing else Jamey needed to know at the moment, and most assuredly nothing he wanted to share in front of the others. There was a knock on the bookshelf door. Not waiting for someone to answer, Jet slid open the hidden door. "I got your stuff," He held out a canvas gym bag. "I rounded up three pairs of clean shorts and a t-shirt. You know how hard it is to find underwear around here not crusty with boy-cum ." "No, but I can imagine," Jim smiled at the boy's uninhibited manner. "You didn't order ME anything?" Jet complained loudly. "Here, you can have the rest of mine," Jamey offered. Jet took what he could get, took a bite, then all but spit it out. "Jala-fuckin'-penas?????!!!" "Pussy," Jamey laughed. Impulsively, Jet threw what little there was left of the sandwich back at Jamey who ducked. Jan didn't. "Jet, forgodsake," his father was torn between laughing and chastizing his son. Jan gathered what he could quickly pick up and threw it back at Jet. 'FOOD FIGHT!!!" Jet cried in delight. "JET....JAN...STOP IT, you're embarrassing the hell outta me!!" Jack yelled, putting a stop to the melee. "I'm sorry," Jamey appologized as he dug through the bag his roommate had packed for him. He held up an athletic support. "You packed me a JOCKSTRAP? " "Helps hide a hardon," Jet reasoned. "At a funeral?" Jamey suppressed a laugh as he returned it to the bag, accepting Jet's logic. Jim started laughing. "What?" Jamey asked in dismay. "Oh...nothing," Jim continued laughing. "I just....I just couldn't help thinking what a kick your Grandad Addy would have gotten out of that." "I just wish I could have been there." Jamey's eyes grew damp once more, his voice choked with emotion. "I wish I coulda hugged him." "He would have like that," Jim stood, welcoming his naked young son once more into his arms. "Come, we need to get back to the plane. Jet, it was nice to meet you. I've come to like you as much as Jamey." "Please hurry back," Jet choked up as he shook hands with Jamey's handsome father. "If everything goes as planned, tomorrow night I think," Jim London promised the boy, pulling him into his arms as he had his son, hugging him. He was more than a little stunned with Jet kissed him on the lips. Jan and Jack shared knowing looks but said nothing. "Mr. Dix, lead the way," Jim smiled, recovering from Jet's unexpected demonstration of love. ---------------------------- "This is Spike, your pilot and Andre your co-pilot," Jan introduced Jim and Jamey to their crew as he saw to it they were securely buckled into the small plane. "They'll help you make it to the company jet once you get on the ground in Miami." "Jack's not going back with us?" Jim reacted in surprise. "No...said something about teaching his son good manners," Jan laughed. "Then when he gets done with jet, he'll be ridin' my ass." "You speaking....figuratively or literally?" Jim asked as he watched his son squirm uncomfortably in the first clothes he'd worn in more than two and a half months. "Probably BOTH," Jan smiled. The thinly disguised look of dread on his face suggested he wasn't joking. "You gonna get FIRED?" Jamey asked in dismay. "Fired? Not fuckin' likely...he'd have to stick around and run things here himself if he did," Jan noted. "Or worse, turn the whole shebang over to Destry." "DESTRY?" Jamey cried over the reving of the planes dual engines. "Yeah, Destry," laughed, as he closed the plane's door. The cabin suddenly grew relatively silent. "Have I met Destry?" Jim asked his son. "Probably not, you'd remember if you had," Jamey smirked, reaching between his legs and rearranging his cock and balls. "God, I hate wearing clothes." "Just for a day," Jim sympathized as the plane taxied into position for takeoff. "Will there be a lot of people there?" Jamey asked as the plane picked up speed. "What do you consider 'a lot'." "A hundred?" Jamey suggested, recalling how everyone seemed to love his granddad so much. "Ho, god, I hope not...probably less that fifty," Jim told his son. "It's suppose to be a private funeral, but...you know your Aunt Betsy, I just hope things haven't gotten out of hand while I was gone." "Did Aunt Betsy cry a lot?" Jamey asked innocently as they lifted off and the sound of the wheels on the pavement ceased, causing the cabin to grow quieter still. "Did she...yes, I suppose she did, mostly foul," Jim disclosed, trying to decide just how much the boy should know before being injected into the family maelstrom. "Whadaya mean?" "She plans to challenge your grandfather's will in court," Jim told his son plainly. "Why? "Why? Why...?" Jim repeated thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose, to put it bluntly...and this is something YOU, of all people, don't EVER repeat, tomorrow or anytime. "I promise," Jamey said soberly. "To put it bluntly, because your Aunt Betsy, and especially your Uncle Bob, are...greedy," Jim could think of no euphemism the boy would understand. "Granddad Addy didn't like Uncle Bob very much, did he?" Jamey reasoned. "Hmph...no...and apparently he didn't hide it as well as I thought," Jim smiled down at the beautiful young boy cuddled next to him. "He leave'm high and dry?" Jamey questioned. "High and dry...ohhh, you mean in his will?" Jamey never ceased to amaze him at his adult intelligence and insights. "Oh...no...no he didn't Jamey. In fact he left your Aunt Betsy almost two-million dollars." "WOW! That's a lot," Jamey gasped in surprise. "That makes them millionaires." "Yes, although they've been millionaires for something like twenty years now." "Twenty YEARS? That's older'n me?" Jamey found the financial facts of life without his granddad hard to grasp. "How much did he leave us?" "Everything else, except for some charity gifts," Jim told him, knowing for certain what the boy's next question would be. "How much is that?" "He left me...us...all his stock in Averill." Jim told his son. "How much is that?" Jamey asked once more. "Jamey, your grandfather was a VERY wealthy man, I'm not sure..." "How much?" Jamey repeated, his grandfather's impatience baring itself. "Jamey, I really can't say...a lot, but...well...it depends on what Averill Group closed at today. "More than two million?" Jamey guessed. Jim London fought to suppress his amusement at his son's innocense. "Yes...more like a thousand times that much." "A thousand TIMES...you mean...like...let me see....TWENTY million?" Jamey gasped. "Do your math again, son. Add a few more zeros?" Jim implored. Jamey sat silent, struggling with the mental math. "Two HUNDRED mill...NO...two...two BILLION?" Jamey finally arrived at the right number, though he could hardly believe his own words. "Actually, Jamey, that's...that's conservative," Jim added. "Averill Group owns stock in about 230 different companies, so the actual figure depends on how all THOSE companies are faring on the market. The figure is hard to put your finger on, not to mention the fact it keep changing daily...hourly, in fact. It could be as much as two HUNDRED BILLION...give or take." "NO SHIT!!" Jamey reacted in true disbelief. Jim London would normally have frowned upon such language from his eleven-year-old son but it was all he could do to avoid laughing. "Grandad left us...left us two-hundred billion dollars?" Jamey gasped softly as he sought to wrap his mind around a figure even his dad found hard to fathom. "No son, he left us a 55.5 percent stock holding in Averill, so don't go counting on a new Porsche for your next birthday." Jim teased his son. "The dollar figure, our holdings are probably a little less than half that. You might think about one of those golf carts maybe, like we rode in today...maybe." "GEEEESSSHHHHHH, we're RICH!" Jamey crowed much more loudly than his father would have liked. Andre, the co-pilot looked back over his shoulder and smiled. "On paper," Jim shot him down. "What's that mean?" Jamey reacted as if deflated. "Our assets are highly ill-liquid, that's what it means." Jim gave the boy a lesson in commercial finance. "What's ill-liquid mean?" "It means that while we may own...control...that much stock, we can't SELL it," Jim told him "Why not? What's the point of being filthy rich if ya can't spend the money?" Jamey reasoned. "If I tried to sell more than a few hundred shares, the market would take notice, investors would wonder why, and the stock price would go down. Any more than that and it would plummet!" Jim told him. "OH," Jamey said softly, at least seeming to understand. "You see, Jamey, with great wealth comes great responsibility," Jim continued. "Do you have any idea how many people work for Averill Group and the companies we own in part or in whole?" "Thousands?" Jamey took the bait, venturing a guess. "Thousands...yes...182,467...as of yesterday at the close of business." Jim declared, though part of that figure involved some major guesswork. "That's a lot," Jamey reacted thoughtfully. "And if the stock price plummeted, you'd have to fire all those people?" "Well, not quite, and probably not immediately," Jim explained. "We'd try to move them around, save as many jobs as we could. But, yes, in theory, a lot of those people...good people...would have their lives disrupted, their careers damaged. Many would just QUIT their jobs with us and go to work for other companies, taking with them their knowledge and talents to help our competitors. If fact, losing them would probably hurt us...our companies, as much...or more...than it would them. "And that's why Granddad Addy left US the stock instead of greedy Aunt Betsy and Uncle Bob." It was not a question but a statement of fact as Jamey reasoned, demonstrating wisdom and understanding far beyond his age.