Date: Sun, 18 Jun 2000 00:33:01 GMT From: Jeffrey Jeffy Subject: ST: Fool For Love Fool For Love By Jeffy All of the usual disclaimers apply. This story is entirely fictional. No house pets, rain forests or lab animals were harmed in the writing of this story. It is intended for adults only. You can send comments or constructive criticism to Jeffs71@Hotmail.com. Flames will be ignored so don't bother. This one is very different from the stories I have done in the past, hope you like it! There's not much sex in this part but rest assured that there will be in future parts. Also, please don't e-mail me about the gun control debate. Otherwise, enjoy! "I don't know. I'm makin' this up as I go." - Dr. I. Jones Part One: Frustrated. Sexually frustrated. I sighed. This was no way for a grown man to live. Here I was, 38 years old and still alone. I have a great career, good friends, a nice home and still I was alone. I've known since I was in my early teens that I was gay but it remained my secret. Nobody, not even my closest family knows about me. Worse, I'm attracted to young boys, even though I've never actually had sex with anyone (other than one extremely drunken night at a friend's Halloween party, but that's another story). Both guys and girls have actually propositioned me more than once, but I never had the nerve to do anything about it. I work out regularly (one way that I get rid of my excess energy) so I'm in good shape. I bought a computer last year and finally got on the Internet where, to my surprise, I found others who feel the same way that I do about young boys. I was both surprised and gratified to know that I wasn't alone in my feelings. I've even chatted on line with some boys (or at least they claimed to be young, anyway) who are gay and in need of someone to talk to. My sex life since then had consisted of reading erotic stories and looking at pictures in the newsgroups while jerking off. I wish the Internet had been there when I was a kid! But lately, even that had begun to lose its appeal. I wanted someone to love, and I wanted it badly! I had discovered, through an on line buddy who happened to live in the same town, that Freedom Park near my house was a good place for meeting young guys looking for sex. Tonight, I was finally going looking even though the prospect scared the shit out of me. I showered carefully and made sure that I had some condoms (I often joked that one would be a lifetime supply for me) stashed I my nightstand. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, heart hammering, and told myself, "Go for it!" With that I stepped out of my apartment to discover that the weather channel had been right and a light drizzle had begun falling. What a miserable night out! Just my luck, the park would probably be deserted. I drove the short distance to the park and sat in my car for a minute, considering what I was about to do. I knew in my heart that I wasn't looking for a one night stand, I wanted a boy to love, to teach, to care for. One who would love me back and understand the way I felt. Would I find that here? Probably not but I was too horny to care. I slowly drove through the park, noticing a few guys lurking around. I refused to make eye contact with any of them. Then I spotted him on the far side of the park. A small, slight figure leaning against the bathroom wall. I couldn't really make out much other than the fact that he had dark hair and looked like a kid. I parked my car and went over to him as casually as I could (yeah, right!). I leaned against the wall beside him, neither one of us so much as glancing at the other. My heart was pounding so hard I was surprised he didn't hear it! "Hi." Said a light, boyish voice from beside me. Seems he was saving me the trouble of making the first move. "Hi yourself. Come here often?" I replied inanely. God, couldn't I come up with anything more original? "Sometimes I do. What about you?" he responded. Now that I was closer I could see that he was only about 5'1" tall or so, slim, with dark hair and a small button nose (with little drops of water dripping off of it). He was shivering slightly, not really dressed for the chilly and rainy conditions. "My first time here. I don't get out much." I could see him smile slightly at this. "Why don't we sit and talk in your car? It's probably drier in there." He seemed to be an old hand at this and was trying to put me at my ease. I silently wondered how many times he had done this with different men. We got into my car and I cranked the heater up to max for the kid. We just sat there for a while getting warm until he looked me in the eye for the first time. As he did I got a good look at his face and he was beautiful! He had high cheekbones, bright blue eyes, a cute pug nose, lips that made me want to kiss them, and a square little chin. I revised my estimate of his age downward; if he were 13 I'd be surprised. My mouth went dry at this realization. "I'm Andy," he said. "My name's Jeff," I croaked in response. He leaned toward me for a kiss. I leaned toward him and my lips met his. My first boy kiss! I put an arm around him and our tongues met. I felt a jolt run through me almost as if I'd gotten an electric shock! I abandoned all control and we began Fench-kissing madly, our tongues dancing against each other as we traded hot gobs of spit. After more than a minute of this we finally broke our kiss, both breathing hard. He grinned at me (I could feel the blood rush to my already rock-hard dick) as he put a hand on my crotch and squeezed firmly. It felt so good! I put my hand between his legs and gave him a gentle squeeze, too. I could feel his slim, hard cock through his damp pants. He grinned at me again and squirmed around on the car seat until he was able to pull his pants down around his ankles. Standing there in all its glory was a gorgeous 3" hard cock sticking straight out from a hairless groin. He pulled up his shirt and all I could see was an expanse of smooth, hairless boy skin. He was definitely prepubescent. I opened my own pants and took out my straining 6" dick. We began to feel each other up, exploring and caressing. I felt like I would cum any second! Finally I was able to gasp out "Why don't we go to my place? It's not far." Andy shakily agreed and we composed ourselves for the short ride to my apartment. My brain was swimming as I realized that I was going back to my place to have sex with a young boy. I honestly don't know how I was able to drive home in that state. As we drove I tried to make small talk, but Andy answered in short, noncommittal sentences. I got the message and shut up. Then in what seemed like no time at all, we were pulling up in front of my apartment. Without another word we both got out and walked up to my front door together. If anything, the weather had gotten worse out. I figured that if nothing else, Andy would at least have a warm, dry place to spend the night. I took him by the hand and led him inside. As we got inside, I took Andy in my arms and kissed him gently. Unlike when we were in the car, he didn't seem to respond much to my attentions. He felt so small and fragile in my arms! Something inside me wanted to hold and protect him forever, but realistically I knew that I'd probably have only one night with him. I was determined to make the most of it and to make the experience special for him. I undid his pants and caressed his small, hard erection and balls. They were still small and hugged his body closely due to the cold. I got down on my knees and began to explore every inch of his dick and balls with my mouth, licking, sucking, and gently nibbling. He tasted of old sweat and something that I can only describe as boy. I found I could take both of his little jewels in my mouth easily, which I did, and I began to suck on them firmly. Andy, appreciating my attentions, began squirming and moaning. I got up and kissed him again, this time sticking my tongue as far down his throat as I could. How this hot kid was turning me on! Then he spoke for the first time since entering my apartment. "I gotta go to the bathroom real quick. Will you wait for me in the bedroom? Please?" How could I say no? So I went into my bedroom, dropping my wallet and keys in the basket where I always kept them. Let me tell you, I wasted no time in getting naked. I heard Andy in the bathroom, but I didn't hear the toilet flush. Then I saw the light go off in the den and thought "So, the little devil wants to be romantic, eh?" I waited a minute, but no Andy. Puzzled, I walked (still naked) out of my bedroom and into the den. All I could see was darkness, then I felt a line of pain trace itself across my right ribs. What??? Then I was aware of being attacked by a whirlwind with a knife, slashing and stabbing savagely. I felt horribly vulnerable and defenseless being naked, and I had been caught completely off guard by the attack. My eyes then began to adjust a little and I saw Andy's face, contorted in a grimace, as he continued to slash and stab at me. I abandoned all reason and fought and kicked my way clear of him, getting enough leverage to sink my fist into his belly; I got another slash from the knife as he doubled up, still clutching his knife. I ran into my bedroom and my mind finally began to kick into overdrive. I felt a weird kind of calm come over me as I began to do things in order. 1) Fish out my spare keys from their hiding place in my change jar 2) Unlock the gunsafe bolted to my extra nightstand 3) Open the door and take out my Ruger P89DC 9mm, leave the P95DC in the safe since it doesn't have a rubberized finger-groove grip on it (and my hands and arms were bleeding profusely) 4) Take out a full mag and insert it into the gun 5) Rack the slide, chambering a live round Still glacially calm, I opened the door and again walked into the den, holding my pistol in a classic Weaver ready stance. Where was the little shit?!? He rushed up to me, knife at the ready until he saw the gun. If I live to be 100 I'll never forget the expression of shock and surprise on his face. As if in a dream, I raised my pistol and centered the sights on the middle of his chest. I waited. He took another half step toward me and I relaxed, held my breath, and took the slack out of the trigger in preparation. Our eyes met over the sights in a moment that seemed to last forever. Then Andy dropped the knife and bolted from my apartment with a wail of rage and despair. My adrenaline rush went just as fast as it had started. Shaking, I sank down on the couch and tried to kick my stunned brain into gear. My hands were so unsteady that I almost couldn't press the decocker to safe my gun. I locked the front door and went to the bathroom to clean myself up. It took about 3 seconds to realize that I needed an emergency room. I had slashes all over my hands, fingers, and forearms to say nothing of the rather nasty one in my side. Shit they hurt! I hurriedly threw on the first clothes I could find, bleeding the whole time. I briefly considered taking one of my guns with me in case Andy was waiting outside but decided that the only thing that could make the night worse would be going to jail. On the way out I grabbed my wallet and keys. As I expected, there was now no cash in my wallet. In passing I picked up the knife. A Sabatier paring knife. I snorted in bleak amusement; at least the kid had expensive tastes in cutlery. I dropped it into a drawer. I drove myself to the hospital, savagely cursing and driving like a madman the whole way. How could I be so stupid? How could I be so blind, picking up some street kid for sex and expecting him to fall in love with me? This was life, not some fucking story on the Internet! I got to the hospital in record time (not surprising the way I was driving). The ER nurse took one look at me and yelled for a doctor. Soon I was the center of attention, with the docs trying to see how many places I was bleeding from and some pest of a nurse asking me if I had insurance, if you can believe that. Well, a long, painful time later I was the proud owner of 239 brand new stitches in my side, hands, and forearms. The doctor kindly warned me that when the anesthetic wore off it was gonna hurt and gave me some pills to take home with me. I thanked him and he wisely left while I continued to mentally curse myself. Well, I didn't have long to wait before the police got there. Shit! I even knew the guy. "Detective Glenn, how are you?" I greeted him. He had fingerprinted me when I applied to my pistol purchase permits (in NJ there is no such thing as a carry permit unless you are white, rich, and politically connected. Sadly, I was 1 for 3.) "How are those twins of yours? They must be getting big my now." He looked startled that I'd remembered his kids but started in on me right away. "So, how'd this happen?" he asked. I looked him straight in the eyes. "Horniness," I told him, "and stupidity." He barked a short laugh, surprised. "Well, well, the truth on the first try. Your wounds are classic defensive, you know. Looks like someone was pretty determined. Wanna tell me who it was?" He took out a small notebook and began writing in it. "No." "That's it? Just 'no'? Come on, give. Who was it?" We went round and round like this for a minute until he got annoyed with me and tried a different tack. He tried to threaten me with an obstruction of justice charge. I told him to go ahead and try. The pain was really beginning to hit me now. I felt faint, and the next thing I knew Detective Glenn was driving me home in my own car, one of his uniformed officers following us in his car. He continued to press me all the way home as I just sat there and stared out the window. When we got there he ushered me inside and gave me a pill to swallow. He put me in bed, telling me that when I was ready to speak to him he'd be happy to hear from me. He left his card on my dresser as he walked out. I drifted off to sleep, still cursing myself. The next day I cleaned up all the blood. God, there seemed to be no end to it, all over the bathroom, the den, and the bedroom. The hardest part was cleaning it off of my pistol because of the bandages on my hands. Ridiculous as it seemed, a kid half my size had very nearly killed me. The very thought was chilling. Well, needless to say I was a complete prick at work the next week, snapping at my staff and generally being nasty to everyone. The smart thing would have been to stay home for a few days, so naturally I didn't do this. My stitches alternately itched like crazy and hurt like crazy. Have you ever tried to tie a tie with bandaged hands? Don't bother, it's impossible, take it from me. Same for typing at a computer. Of course everyone had questions, so I told them I'd been mugged by a kid with a knife over the weekend. It had the virtue of being at least mostly true. I went to my regular doctor to get the stitches taken out so I had to listen to his lecture too. I had to restrain myself from telling him to fuck off (it's never a good idea to say this to someone hovering over you with a sharp instrument). With the bandages off and the stitches out my hands and arms looked like a badly sewn quilt. One long slash on my forearm was particularly ugly, enough that my doctor suggested surgery to make it less noticeable. I declined, saying it represented an object lesson. From time to time I wondered about Andy. I doubted that was his real name and wondered why he'd attacked me. But most of all, I wondered if I'd see him again and what I'd do when I did. I had been a heartbeat away from killing him that night and to be honest, it bothered me that I had been so ready to take a human life. To be continued.