Disclaimer: This story has sexual content, if this offends you: Bye, bye. Even worse it has gay themes and gay sex between two minors, and an adult and a minor, if this offends you please find another story. Sex is not the major topic of this story. If you are looking for a pure adult erotic story try another one on this site, there are some good ones. If erotic stories are banned where you live, leave this site immediately before you are arrested (you were warned), or if you are deemed to be underage by your government and two young to read this then you should leave now (in either case go look up the names of these people and be sure to vote against them when you are old enough).
This story is fiction. That means I made it up. As the author I may make real life problems disappear with a sentence or two. If you want real life read the newspaper. I may actually have a point or two to make other than life can suck.
Anyway, if you think you recognize yourself or anyone you know it is pure chance, go by a lottery ticket this could be your lucky day.
Copywrite 2006: str8mayb –– that means the story is copyrighted by me in 2006. Do not re-post without my written permission.
There is also sexual child abuse in this story. It is not described in detail. It is in no way meant as a turn on but as an explanation and motivation to the characters. The author is appalled by this and in absolutely no way condones pedophilia or abuse. Where possible the guilty do suffer, one of the perks of fiction, the bad guys lose. Although this is posted in Adult – Youth do not expect hot sex. There are some mild scenes and talk. There are however some fairly graphic explorations between the boys.
No animals were hurt in any way in the production of this story. Actors who are at least 21 years of age portray all characters in this story.
I hope you enjoy. E-mail to email@example.com E-mail lets us writers know if what we are doing is worth further posting. This story is also posted in The Padded Room, www.paddedroom.us if you are interested and may be slightly ahead. Special thanks to Akeentia the Warden of the asylum.
Special thanks to my favorite authors for their encouragement; Fritz, Josh Aterovis, Cole Parker, Scribe1971, Miguel Sanchez, Darkstar, and Radio Rancher (order above is not by rank but by the order I discovered them, so don’t get angry guys). Radio Rancher has offered to be editor and I have very gratefully accepted. At least until the fee for punctuation becomes outrageous. Maybe Darkstar and I can form an alliance.
Chapter 1- Bus Stop
I was walking aimlessly through the city. This past week, the first of June, has had amazing ups and downs. Monday I was laid off from my accounting job that had been the center of my life the past seven years. Wednesday when I got home from searching for another job there was a notice that my apartment building was going to be razed to build a new apartment building so I had 30 days to leave. Then earlier today (Friday) I had a call from a Mr. Clemets, an attorney, who told me my last living relative wasn’t.
I was now incredibly rich, and had a large estate in the country, Haven Manor. I had $100,000 in my bank account for expenses until I settled my affairs here, and moved to the estate in western part of the state. I had been wandering for several hours, and my feet were getting sore. I took a look around, and realized I was not in the best part of town. In another hour, the working girls would be out. I looked for a safe haven. I spotted the bus station, and figured I could get a bite to eat, and then a taxi back home.
Inside, the station was pretty much deserted. I let my eyes adjust to the dim light. There was a kid over in the corner. I wondered why he was alone. Maybe his Mom had gone to bathroom. Something about the boy captured my attention. He looked about nine or ten, was dressed in worn clothes that were a size too small. I took a seat where I could watch him. He didn’t move from his seat, the whole time I was eating. Before leaving, I headed to the men’s room. When I came out there was a guy talking to the boy. The kid was obviously afraid, and the guy looked like a pimp to me.
What the hell, I went to the rescue. I quickly walked up to them. “Billy, I’m sorry to be so late. I got caught up in an accident. I had to wait for the cops to take my statement. Come on let’s get you home, and some dinner.”
I held out my hand, he stood up and grabbed the book bag, backpack, and said “Uncle Sam, I was worried you forgot me.”
The ‘pimp’ was gone. I walked out front to the taxi stand, hailed the first cab in line. I opened the door, and motioned for the boy to get in. He hesitated, then tossed his backpack in, and followed it. I got in and gave the driver my address. The boy sat as far away from me as he could, and didn’t say a word the whole trip. He followed me into my building, and into the elevator. When we were outside my door, I stopped and said, “This is my apartment and you are welcome to stay here for a couple days, or you can leave anytime.”
He nodded his head and went in, when I opened the door. I turned on the lights, and locked the door. “Okay, I’m Tom Richards. I’ve just found out I own a farm and I’ll be moving, in a few weeks or so. You want something to eat? I got some stuff for sandwiches, and chips.”
“Okay,” was all he said. He followed me into the kitchen, and stood next to the door. I got the impression he was trying to make himself as small as possible. I fixed him a sandwich, put it and some chips on a plate, and set it on the table. I turned around and got a soda out of the fridge. When I turned back he was stuffing as much into his mouth as possible. When he saw me looking at him, he froze with a look of dread.
He was obviously thinking he had done wrong, and I was going to punish him. I moved slowly and placed the drink next to his empty plate, and went around the table and sat down. His gaze studied me, as he slowly started to chew, and finally swallowed. He cautiously took a drink from the can. When he had finished, he moved back away from the table.
I was pretty much at a loss at this point. I figured the boy must be tired, and I knew he was dirty, so I figured to get him cleaned up, and into bed. “How about we get you cleaned up, and ready for bed?” He hugged his backpack, and looked towards the door. I could tell he was scared, and totally at a loss as what to do. “Look, there’s a lock on the door, I’m not going to do any weird stuff. Let me get you a towel and do you have P-Js?”
He shook his head, no. I went and found a clean towel, and got him one of my T-shirts to wear. I set these in the bathroom, and returned to find the boy. At first I thought he had left, but he was still by the door. “You have clean clothes or would like me to wash for you?”
He shrugged and moved to follow me back to the bathroom. I showed him where everything was, and said he could put his dirty clothes by the door, and I’d collect them later. I left, closing the door behind me. There was a pause and I heard the click of the lock. I smiled, this was one scared kid. I went to make up the old fold out sofa. I wondered what his story was. It occurred to me that he might need legal help. I heard the shower start, and figured tomorrow or maybe Monday, was soon enough to worry about all that.
As I finished with the sofa-bed, the shower cut off. A few minutes later he emerged. He looked so damned cute. His hair was spiky wet, his big brown eyes that could make a puppy envious and his body draped in my T-shirt.
“I’ve made up the sofa bed for you. There’s a movie on the cable if you want to watch, or just go to sleep. The remote is there by the lamp. I’ll go get the laundry started.” He moved to the side to let me by but didn’t say a word.
He had put all his clothes in a pile in the corner. His backpack was there also. I picked it up to check for more clothes. He had taken all the clothes out, but a few things remained. There was a picture of him, about a year younger, with a couple, that was obviously his parents. A letter addressed to Master Neal Huxley, with an address from the Pittsburgh area. A game boy that looked broken, and a few other kid stuff items. As I was leaving, I noticed something in the trash. Curiosity got me, and I pulled it out. It was a pair of his underwear that at first I thought he had messed in, but there was no strong smell. Suddenly I realized it was blood. No wonder the kid was terrified, he had been badly abused. I took the clothes to the laundry in the basement, and started the wash. I noted that all his underwear was worn out, and the elastic stretched out too. I decided to get him some new stuff that fit.
By the time I returned with the clean clothes, he was asleep. I turned off the TV and light. I left the bathroom light on, so he could see, if he woke up in the middle of the night. I went into my room, and decided to call Mr. Clemets, and find out what I could do with Master Neal Huxley. Mr. Clemets wasn’t real thrilled with the 11:00 call on Friday night, until he recognized me. I explained what I had done, and wanted to know what my legal responsibilities were. He recommended Child Protective Services, which I refused immediately. He said that in that case we needed to find out more about this boy, and was I willing to care for him, until the situation was resolved? He said he would call a private eye, and let me know what he found out.
I got ready for bed, and drifted off to sleep with visions of a cute little angle in a baggy T-shirt.
In the middle of the night, a thunderstorm woke me, and then running little feet and a small body climbed into my bed. He was shaking, and wrapped around my arm for dear life. I lay there for several minutes, and every flash and rumble made him jump, and hold tighter. I shifted so I could put my arm around him, and he seemed to just melt into me. After the storm passed, we both drifted off to sleep again.
When I woke up in the morning, I felt incredibly rested. When I opened my eyes there was a pair of brown eyes staring at me. “Good morning,” I said.
“You got a stiffy,” he accused, almost crying. He was trying to pull away, but his arm was trapped under my shoulder.
That took me back for a second, as I realized my 6½ inch hard-on was pressed between his legs and his little 3 incher was pressed into my stomach. Thinking about my discovery in the trash can I wanted to reassure him that I wasn’t a threat. “Sure do, just like you. Got one most mornings till I piss.”
“Oh.” He looked worried. “You mean it isn’t a bad thing?”
“No, of course not. Most men have them when they wake up. It’s as normal as . . . peeing.” I almost said jacking off, but didn’t want to go there, and certainly didn’t want to explain a lot about sex.
“Then why…” he stopped mid-sentence.
My gut told me this was important, very important. “Why what?” I asked keeping my voice light.
“Why did they pick on me for that?”
“Well I don’t know right off. Who is ‘they’?” I asked.
“The other boys the, older ones.” He said.
“Oh, well, they were probably embarrassed that they had boners so they picked on someone littler than them.” I explained.
“Oh, but why were they embarrassed if everybody gets them?”
“ I guess they haven’t figured that out, or had someone they could ask about it. How about we go piss, and get something to eat?” I pulled back the covers, and got out of bed.
“Wow, you’re naked.”
I stole a line from Chevy Chase, “And your not.”
He giggled, and ran for the bathroom. He joined me at the toilet, and pulled up the T-shirt to pee. I stood in shock, his arms and stomach and back were covered with bruises, in various stages of healing. This boy has been abused big time. I promised myself that he would be safe from now on. How could anyone beat a child like this. I was absolutely furious. Now all I had to do was get the whole story.
After getting dressed, we went to the corner diner, and I ordered scrambled eggs and bacon, and he ordered pancakes and sausage. Then we got a cab to a mall. I had a blast, buying him all new clothes. The clerk was surprised, when I told her he needed everything form the skin out.
Then I caught another Taxi, and we went to a car lot. I was looking for a car for the drive across the state. My little buddy went right for a custom van. I had to admit it had about everything you could possibly put in it; DVD, CD & cassette, built in ice chest, seats that convert to beds. Soon the salesman was on us. He was doing his routine, and I cut him off. “Look cut $10,000 off the sticker, and I’ll take it. He started in on how it had all the accessories. I cut him off again, “Okay, take $11,000 off.” He stared at me, I just broke the haggle rule. He started to say something, I asked, “$12,000?” “No, let me go talk to the manager.” He pleaded. We left two hours later, in a brand new Custom van, with all the accessories, a full tank of gas, and two grinning occupants.
I returned home, once inside I decided it was time to clear the air on some things. I closed the front door, and locked the dead bolt, and removed the key. I didn’t want him to bolt. All the bags of clothes were heaped on the sofa. I sat on one side of the pile, and he sat on the other. As we worked on removing tags, I asked, “So, here we are, and you haven’t told me your name.”
He looked at me, and a blush colored his ears. “Neal.”
“Hi, Neal. I’m Tom, or if you prefer Mr. Richards.” I held out my hand, and he shook it. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”
“I ran away,” he admitted.
“I figured that much out. I’d like to help if I can. I’d even like to have you stay with me, if it’s possible, and you want to.” I figured I would put my cards on the table, as it were. I kept working on tags, waiting for his response.
“What have I got to do?” he asked.
I thought I knew what he was asking but decided to side step that issue, until he brought it up. “Well, let’s see. Keep your stuff reasonably neat, and clean. Help with chores, like laundry and cooking, and dish washing, go to school, and most important of all, never lie to me.”
“I don’t gotta do stuff to you?” There was so much hope in that little sentence it broke my heart.
“No, you never have to do anything against your will, except what I just said.” I looked him straight in the eyes, and hoped he could see the truth there.
“What if I mess up?”
“I turn into the Wicked Witch of the West and turn you into a flying monkey.” He gave me a blank stare. “You know The Wizard of Oz? Oh well, it wouldn’t work anyway, the Wicked Witch is a Girl so I couldn’t turn into her anyway.” At that he laughed.
“No, your stiffy is much to big to be a girl,” he agreed.
“So, Neal, Tell me about it.”
A tear ran down his cheek, as he gathered himself to tell all. “Mommy and Daddy died in a crash last year. It was during a big thunderstorm, and loud thunder still scares me. I had nobody so the police put me in Juvy. I was put in the little boy section at first, and that was okay. Then when I turned ten, they moved me into the older boys section. I thought that was going to be cool.” Now the tears really started. I picked him up and sat in the recliner and held him on my lap, and let him cry and continue at his own pace. “The Big guys started picking on me, and then making fun of me, and then . . .” he trailed off into tears again. I held him and let him cry. He needed the release. After a few minutes he continued, “They made me do things to them, and then they did bad things to me, that hurt, and if I cried or made any noise, they hit me. Some of them just liked to hit me. I couldn’t take it any more, so I stole all the money I could from them, and ran away. I bought a bus ticket for as far away as I could, and then realized I didn’t have any more money and then you got me.”
Well, now I knew. It was worse than I thought. This poor little guy had been abused by the system, when he needed human contact, and understanding more than anything else. I continued to hold him and he relaxed for awhile. When he got down from my lap, he went back to the sofa, and stared at me. I knew he was waiting for something, but didn’t, for the life of me, know what. “You want a Coke?” I asked, as I got up and went into the kitchen.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. What about what I just told you?” He asked my retreating back.
I grabbed a beer and a Coke, and returned. “What about it? I asked what was going on, and now I know.”
“Aren’t you going to kick me out?”
“Was your story a lie?”
“Well then, no, I’m not kicking you out.” I ruffed up his hair, and smiled at him.
“What if not everything was forced on me? What if I liked some of it?” The worry in his eyes showed, and he was holding his breath, waiting for my reply.
“The point is, Neal, you didn’t like part of it, and they made you do it anyway. When someone is forced to do sex stuff, it is called rape, and is a very serious thing. Now, when boys are involved, they make you feel guilty, and tell you that you really wanted it, because they played with your dick, and made it hard. That is an old trick and when your dick gets hard, you don’t have a lot of control over it, like waking up in the morning.”
I picked up the pile of new underwear, and light colored clothes. I carried them into my bedroom and sorted my dirty clothes, and turned to get the other clothes and Neal was right there with them. I divided them into the right piles and loaded my laundry basket. “Come on lets go to the basement laundry, and get the wash done. While waiting for the laundry, we talked about the farm, and I told him we had to leave by the end of the month.
“What about all your stuff?” he wanted to know.
“Well, I thought I’d give it to Mrs. Sanchez. She lives across the hall. She doesn’t have much, and since her husband disappeared, she has been working two jobs. I thought it might make her life a little easier.” He nodded, and smiled. I guess I had passed some sort of test, in his eyes. I was glad.
Once the Laundry was started, we sat in the old plastic chairs in the laundry room.
“What do you like to do, Neal?” I asked.
“Games and stuff, I guess.” He looked at me with that curious-wary look of his.
“Good, I like games too. Do you play cards or board games?”
“Huh? No, you know video games. I used to have a really cool X-box, John and I would play all the time. He was really good. I was real sad when his dad got a promotion and had to move. He was my best friend, ever.” Neal got real quiet then for awhile. Then he looked back towards me, “In Juvy, the older boys made comments about how jew boys had theirs cut off. John was Jewish, and he had a dick, and it looked just like mine, and I’m a Methodist.”
I smiled, “Once again those boys were pretty dumb. What they were talking about was circumcision. That is a procedure where the foreskin is cut off the penis. All boys are born with a foreskin, the Jews believe that it is a sign to God that this boy is a Jew, to have a circumcision. In this country, a lot of parents decide to have their sons circumcised, for health reasons, or just so the son will look like his dad. In other countries it is rarely done.”
“Oh, ah, what’s a foreskin?” Neal asked hesitantly.
“It’s a piece of skin that covers the head of the penis. I suppose when we were running around the jungle before clothes were invented, it was for protection.”
“If it covered the end then how would you pee?” His curiosity was bringing him out of his protective shell.
“It’s Kind of like a sleeve. When its soft it covers the head but still has a hole so the pee can come out. When it’s hard the sleeve can pull back.” I answered as best as I could.
“Why would it need to pull back?”
“Well the part that feels good when you play with it is exposed. It also needs to be pulled back to clean it. Sometimes it won’t pull back and can cause lots of problems, then a circumcision has to be done. Usually this happens when the boy goes through puberty.” I saw the look on his face, so continued my little sex-ed. lecture. “Puberty is when you make the change from a boy to a man. A lot of changes will take place, and I want you to always feel free to come and talk to me about any of them. What happens is that your growth hormones trigger your testicles, your balls, to start developing. They, in turn begin making testosterone, the male hormone. This starts making a lot of other developments, such as hair under your arms, on your arms & legs, chest and of course around your dick. Then your voice gets lower, and you produce sperm and shoot it when you come.”
“Yeah, the older boys did that a lot. They said they were real men, cause they could do it.“
“Well, a lot of guys think that. I think there is more to being a man. I think that a man takes care his responsibilities, and doesn’t have to show off or hurt people or animals to prove himself.” I replied.
“Yeah, you’re right.” Neal said.
When the laundry was done, we carried it back to the apartment, and into my bedroom. I went into the kitchen and brought back a large plastic bag and dumped one of the drawers of my dresser in it, and told Neal to put his things in there. I showed him how to fold the clothes, and put them away. By the time we were finished, it was getting close to dinner time. We walked back to the diner, and had their killer burger. I have some trouble eating that thing, but Neal made it disappear, along with a huge chocolate milkshake. I was beginning to wonder if he was a bottomless pit.
Back home, we watched TV for awhile, then made up his bed, and hit the sheets. At some point during the night, I became aware of something, and opened my eyes, and Neal was standing there looking at me. I held up the covers inviting him to join me. Without a word he climbed in, and snuggled up to my side. He soon was asleep. Now I lay awake thinking about my new situation. This boy beside me, had been through hell, if his story was true, and I thought it was, and the details would be worse. The very system that was supposed to protect him had literally raped him. Somehow events had brought him into my care. God works in mysterious ways. This time one week ago, I wouldn’t have even noticed him, and certainly wouldn’t have done more than turn him back to the system. How could I protect him from the system? Documentation was my best course of action, tomorrow, I would get a digital camera, and at least get his bruises recorded. Now, a little part of a plan but enough to let me sleep.
Hope you enjoyed the beginning of the story. Chapter 2 will be ready soon. Comments are welcome, so let me hear from you, firstname.lastname@example.org. I promise to answer but writing is a spare time obsession so it may take a little while. Wish I had about 48 more hours in a day.
Hey, that looks familiar. Where have I seen that before?
It seems strange, I am editing another story by a guy named Darkstar.
It seems to me that it is about this guy that found a boy that needed help. Well, Tom here seems to have an interesting story to tell, and I hereby volunteer to edit it for him. I hope he takes me up on the offer. We have to work on details, like who will be responsible for acquiring all the necessary commas and semi colons. I will take care of the periods and question marks as well as half of all the dashes and exclamation marks. Those are more expensive since you don't use as many of them as you do commas or semi colons. I usually buy those wholesale. Those of you that have seen my editing before, may notice that I get rather insane sometimes, when it comes to punctuation. Don't worry it wears off with time.
See you in the next chapter. Soon, I hope.
The Radio Rancher