Thanks for the encouraging mail, guys, and forgive me if I' get off to a slow start again-- but some of you actually wanted to read a good story instead of a catalogue of how many inches, fingers, etc. In this episode, nothing especially sexual happens until the end, but early chapters are mostly for setting the scene and character development. Bear with me, though -- I've delivered some pretty good meat yankers over the years, and when I get warmed up, it can get very hot.

GOD'S WILL, part 2

Well, Ed did drop me off on the road the next day, but he fed me breakfast at a roadside joint and gave me a pretty good ride first, all the way over into Missouri where he was going to pick up some more Bibles to sell. Ed was a nice man, but he said he couldn't be seen with me nowhere near his head office.

So there I am with my thumb stuck out when a guy in a pickup comes along and stops for me. "Where you going?" he asks me.

I figured I better not tell him I was headed for the Old Union because folks here in the Christian States don't think much of Yankees, and some downright hate them, so I told him my Daddy got killed and I was trying to find my aunt's house.

He asked me where my Mama was, and I had to say she was gone too. I didn't know it, but that was a big mistake.

You see, the Christian States of America are very strong on states' rights, and each state decides its own laws on pretty much everything. Missouri, I came to find out, was a slave state -- but unlike Mississippi and Alabama, they made white people slaves too. Can't pay your bills in Missouri? Too bad, you're a slave now.

Me, I didn't owe no money, but I was a kid with no parents -- and in Missouri, that meant anybody took me in could sell me off for a slave whenever he got a mind to. I didn't know that, riding along in that guy's truck. He did, though, and I guess he was already wondering what I might be worth.

In the meanwhile, I was thinking it was kind of him to give me a ride, and I ought to say thanks, so I reached over into his lap and started trying to get his zipper down. I was real surprised when he slapped my hand away, but then I thought maybe he's just not filled with the Lord, poor soul.

I didn't have much time to think about it, though, because he stared at me hard and said, "You a faggit?" I started telling him how I was a Christian, but he cut me off and said, "I'm asking you do you like cock?"

Now, I knew that word, even if Mama always called mine my "wiener" and the Reverend Big Bill Jurkin told me to call his "the Holy Scepter." So I knew what he was talking about, but I didn't say nothing. I just kind of nodded.

"Good," he said. "Real good."

That left me real confused. If I was being good, how come he slapped my hand away? I couldn't figure that out nohow, so I just kept my trap shut a while until he asked me, "Ever been to Branson?"

"No, sir."

"I think you're gonna like it there, and I know just the place."


Well, as we went up the highway towards Branson I started seeing billboards that made me think maybe he was right. It looked like a real family kind of place, and even if I didn't have a family no more, I figured it would be friendly. I still had Ed's fifty bucks in my pocket, and I wanted to try some mini-golf and hear the Talking Rocks at the cavern and see the waters waltz and go up on top of the Inspiration Tower and get inspired.

It was past dark when we pulled into the drive of a big house a little way off Highway 76. I got pulled out through the driver's side door and all the way up into the house's parlor, which left a bruise on my left arm lasted for more than a week, but that was the least of my problems. The pickup guy, whose name I never learned, yelled out for Fat Alice.

I had bad feelings. I smelt booze and cigarette smoke worse than Daddy's breath ever been, but the worst smell was the sweat. When my eyes got used to the low light, I saw where the smells was coming from. There was ladies in the parlor, along with some boys a bit older than me, all dressed in clothes that would shame a hellbound idolator from Bible times.

Fat Alice waddled through a beaded curtain, cast an eye on me, and said to tell her my name. I thought about lying, but didn't see no sense in it, so I just mumbled "Jimmy."

Then she and the pickup guy started to discuss what I was worth. I was just getting the idea I was getting sold when Fat Alice told me to strip. I must have been turning all red when I said, "But, there's ladies present!"

That got a big laugh from the room, but me, I was crying when they pulled my clothes off. Fat Alice gave me a good hard look and said, "Well, I gotta admit, he's pretty cute. But can he perform?"

She crooked a finger at one of the older boys. I found out later his name was Clint, and he was fifteen, but I couldn't tell for sure then because when he dropped his lace panties he had no hair down there even though his wiener was near as big as Big Bill's. Turns out they shave him, and he says it itches something awful when it grows back in.

"On your knees, boy," Fat Alice told me, "and we'll see how well you suck a cock."

I looked up at the big boy from my knees. He was poking out a little, but not yet at full scepter. Well, I had to ask him, of course, if he was filled with the Lord.

"You just suck it good, sonny, and you'll find out what it's full of," he told me. The ladies in the room started laughing again. He took hold of it and smacked it across my face, then poked it at my nose. I figured there was not much else I could do, so I opened wide and sucked it up, just like Daddy told me I should.

He was a little sweaty, and had a bit of that puckery taste comes with body spray, but he was pretty much fine otherwise. Clint had the first one I ever saw didn't have no skin on the end -- seems they like to cut it off up in some parts of the Old Union and the Holistic Empire of the West. I didn't know nothing about it then, but later I come to know that when guys don't wash enough the cut ones often taste and smell kind of better.

Fat Alice stopped me before I got anything to swallow, saying, "Hey, that boy's been around a little. Let's try him from the other end."

Clint went around me and gave me a little shove so I went on hands and knees. Then he said, "Gimme some lube, Alice. He's just a little kid." Clint, I came to know, was a kind boy who was just filled up with the Spirit of the Lord. I got to care for him a lot.

Somebody tossed him a tube, and a greasy finger slid into my hole. I remembered to push like I was taking a dump. If I wasn't so embarrassed with all those people watching, it might have been real good. Just the same, nobody seemed to care that my little dinkie wasn't getting hard.

Clint really banged at me hard, slapping right up against my butt cheeks, over and over, and inspiring some of the ladies to yell, "Ride 'em, cowboy! When I felt him go tight and just leave it shoved up there far as he could get it and start trembling like a snake handler about to start speaking in tongues, my wiener popped right up.

I think maybe I heard an angel singing while the ladies gave Clint a round of applause, but maybe it was just me, singing God's praise. Anyway, that was it. It was over.

After some haggling, Fat Alice gave the pickup guy nine hundred for me. I'm pretty sure he also lifted Ed's fifty from my pants pocket when I wasn't wearing them, so he got a pretty good night's pay for betraying an innocent Christian boy. I wonder how much forty pieces of silver is worth these days.

I wound up bunking with Clint and an even older boy named Mustafa. Mustafa, I soon learned, was one of those Muslim guys. Damnation, I was scared when I heard that, but he didn't blow himself up or nothing. He was kind of a righteous guy, in his own way, and it's a crying shame he has to go to hell.


Next: Jimmy learns some new tricks. Suggestions welcome: