Date: Sat, 27 Aug 2005 16:34:24 -0700 From: Joseph Farrin Subject: JOE 2 While holding the screen door open for the two officers, I pointed out the hole in the screen door was near the bottom, pointed to a parked car across the street and called their attention to the fact that it looked to be quite low due to the steps up to the porch. Then I showed them the hole in the woodwork above the kitchen door. Next I pulled Joe over next to me, kissed him on the cheek, gave him a love swat on his behind and said, "Go downstairs and fool with the computer or go to my room and watch TV, but keep it low. He said "Goodnight" and detoured though the kitchen to grab a beer and stuff it in one of his pockets before going to my bedroom. Later I heard the TV, but barely; I knew he hadn't closed the door so he could eves drop. The cop with the stomach said, "We might need to talk to the boy later." "No you won't talk to him later or ever, as far as that goes. The boy's father died a couple of months ago. He's upset by what happened this evening. He doesn't know anymore than I know." "Are the two of you related?" "No, he's a long time friend. His mother just bought a house here and will be moving to town in autumn. Meanwhile he's living with me. His name is Joe Carlton, he's the nephew of John and Dorothy Page." "Is that the John Page that owns the auto body shop on South Central, across the railroad's mainline tracks?" "It is." "And may I have your name?" "Richard Stone, I've lived in McCray all my life, and as of last year I teach at McCray, high school." I saw from the other cop's badge that his name was Whitman and added, "Officer, if you have a teen age son by the name of Lance Whitman, he is a student of mine. "He sure is, now I recognize why your name seemed familiar." "The big stomach" piped in again with, "Do you have any known enemies?" "No." "Anybody who could be angry with you?" "Well, I dished out a couple of "F's" last year in Geometry, but I don't think they're sufficient grounds to get myself shot at." "Now, could I ask you a couple of more personal questions? "No, you may not." "Are you being uncooperative?" "If that's what you want to call it, yes I am. I might have been the intended victim, but I can't see all the questioning. Certainly I was not the perp. Find him and ask him questions. Not me." "Perp is police slang for perpetrator, how did you know that expression?" "I read a lot of mystery novels." Officer Whitman spoke up and said, "Thanks Mr. Stone, you've been very helpful. We have all the information we need for now. I'll call you tomorrow and arrange for an expert to come and remove the bullet from your woodwork." I gave him my cell phone number and he said, "Sorry you've had such a terrible experience. I just hope it's not the start of drive-by shooters. We've never had one before in McCray." The stomach just growled and followed Whitman out. I wondered if I'd just witnessed a performance of the good cop, bad cop routine. Fuck em! Let them find the bastard that shot at the house. If they gave me any shit, I'd call the Chief of Police, he was a friend of my dad's. Stomach had pissed me off. Why hadn't they used their flashlights to see if they could find a shell casing on the street before they started in on me, or call in for more manpower, if they had anymore? I slammed the front door closed and turned off the porch light. Joe came in all smiles. He thought I'd handled everything "cool". "You still nursing the beer you swiped." "No. Finished it." "Well tonight you can have another one and I'm going to have a man sized scotch. Then you're going to the end this evening's mystery by telling me who did it." When he started, I fucking couldn't believe a word he was saying at first. Then I realized he was telling the truth. He started back years ago by saying John Page had been molesting him for as long as he could remember. At first it made him feel good, like a dry orgasm before puberty made you feel. Then John had him hooked and he liked being played with, even though he never felt any affection toward John. In fact he became frightened of him if anything. When he came to McCray and Dorothy arranged for me to take him for the summer it pissed John off big time. She ruined his plans for some extracurricular sex. And, John was now sure in his mind, at least, the two of us were having sex together. Suddenly all the " I know, I don't like, I want you to stop" notes made sense and I decided to show them to him. His first question was why I hadn't shown them to him before and I explained I thought we had pissed off one or two tradesmen by working on Carol's house. Joe didn't ask but went to the kitchen and came back with another beer and another scotch. Jesus, that made his third – two too many. It was a good thing the bedroom was less than 25 feet away even allowing for a trip to the bathroom. "Joe, I don't want to seem prying, but do you mind telling me what kind of things he did to you?" "No, I want you to know. At first, when I was really little, he'd have me sit on his lap and he'd put his hand under my clothing and just rub my penis, and my balls. I could feel his hardness with my bottom. That was one of my first memories. Then he began taking my penis in his mouth while he pushed his finger up my behind, and then he'd make me take his in my mouth. Around two years ago when he found out I'd reached puberty he started fucking me. Where did he do all this? "At home, in the basement or in the garage, when Aunt Dorothy had gone down town shopping, usually on Saturdays and on Sundays. Sometimes, he'd ask my mom if he could take me to the body shop, as he had to pick up some paper work to bring home." "So it always happened when your mom and you were on visits in McCray? Yea, and they were often if you remember. "I'm sorry Joe, I hope it wasn't too painful for you to tell me." "No, I'm OK. Remember the first morning we did something and I told you it was what I thought it could be like when you were making love?" "I'll never forget it. "Are you afraid now?" "Somewhat, but I think I'm more concerned than frightened. "Know what I'm worried about more than John?" That you'll think it's dangerous doing stuff with me and you'll want us to stop." "I grabbed him and hugged him, saying, "Joe I think I know how you feel. We're doing stuff once or twice every day; that should be reassuring but it's like when I was your age, I knew my dad and mom loved me, but I was insecure and always was wondering if they really did." "It is like that, but, at the same time it seems like a real worry every time I think about it and sometime I wonder what will change when my mom and I move into our house and I don't get to see you every day?" "God, Joe I've had the same thoughts and I should have told you how I buried them. Your mom won't be here much before school starts. Then I'll see you in school and have you in Algebra once a day. No matter where your mom works, she won't get home until after school does which leaves us time to fuck around here on you way home. Then, you can pick me up in the mornings and we can walk or drive to school. Hell, I'm sure not going to dump you. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone in my life. I feel so possessive and protective of you and desperately want you to love me." "Now you know what I meant that first time. And, I've got one more thing to tell you then I think we should go to bed. I told you I liked being molested. It turned me into a homosexual. That bothered me until the morning we made love together." He turned and kissed my cheek and continued, "Let's sleep together. I want you to fuck me. You never have but now you know I'm not a virgin, so you don't have to go easy; you can fuck to please us both." One in bed, he reached down, took hold of my erected cock and guided it to the opening to his love hole. I entered him slowly, like an ocean liner with underwater thrusters being inched carefully, almost imperceptibly, toward a dock. He pulled me down, wrapped his legs around my back, moved his face up to mine and open mouth kissed me. We were as one, locked together in passion and in sex by my big, swollen, man cock sunk deep into Joes teenage, hot boy pussy. I started at a slow pace and intended keeping it that way. I wanted it to last all night, or even forever. Besides Joe, my only thought was, "Fuck you John, I don't give a shit what you don't like. Joe and I are lovers. He's my boy toy now. Eat your heart out." It turned out to be an uncontrollable experience. In the intense heat of passion that arose from my first time in fucking Joe, I yielded to the new sensations that I felt and started fucking him so fast, so hard, that later, after I'd climaxed, I apologized to him. My mind flipped back to Morgan, how he'd taken my virginity and fucked the hell out of me time after time, week after week, for two years. I tried to recall some of the things that he did that made me so wild when he fucked me; I prayed that Joe was feeling like I remember I'd felt.. Then the whole world erupted. I had the biggest, most intense orgasm that I'd ever had in my life. Joe tightened his legs around my back and began pushing his buttocks against me as if he were trying to get my cock further in than it already was. He was fucking my cock, for lack of a better way to describe it. It was as it I was being jacked off but not by a hand, but by Joe's entire body. I think he, too, wanted it to last all night, even for an eternity. He did succeed in making us both reach a second orgasm before we both collapsed. We didn't get to collapse for long. The phone rang. Dorothy heard what happened watching McCray's local, TV, evening news. As I told her what little I knew, Joe went to the bathroom to clean up. When I'd finished with Dorothy the phone rang again; it was Roy Bailey, Superintendent of Schools. Joe knelt down in front of me using first a warm washcloth and then a hand towel to clean up my cock. That made it difficult to concentrate on the conversation with Mr. Bailey. Joe compounded the difficulty when he began sucking on my dick, trying to get me hard again. Finally Bailey hung up, I unplugged the bedroom's phone extension, buried my cell phone in a kitchen drawer, turned off the lights, cuddled up to Joes's back and told him again how much I loved him. Surprisingly I went to sleep. I awoke with Joe's head on my stomach looking down at my morning, piss hard-on. In the morning, I grabbed a rather old copy of the Omaha Telephone Directory before leaving for Carol's house. As soon as I'd roller painted a couple of ceiling as Joe washed light fixture globes, I had telephone calls from Officer Whitman, my school principal, Joe's mom and a few other people, I looked in the Omaha Directory under "Private Detectives" and was instructed to look under "Private Investigators". The only name that I could think of was Pinkerton, but there was no such listing. In fact there were very few and I selected one called "The Gumshoe Detective Agency", on the basis of their having a sense of humor. I told them what had happened, who I suspected it was, John's name, home address and business address and my belief that he had grown up in Grand Island, Nebraska. They asked for a credit card number and I gave them one. They told me to give them a couple of weeks. I told them to give both my and Carol's new house address for delivery and try both. Eight days later I received a Fed-Ex envelope at Carol's. Joe and I read it together. The report gave us John's date of birth, parent's names, schools and churches attended and the fact that, at 21 years of age, he'd been apprehended for child molestation. The case was dismissed as the women who reported it said she'd seen from her from window, a man parked in a car that had evidently spoken to an elementary school boy walking home and had him approach the car. The open door of the car obstructed her view and she could not testify that she actually saw John molesting the boy. Soon, he moved to Lincoln and worked in a garage owned by the State that serviced and repaired State vehicles. Within 3 months he was again arrested by a police officer that had actually seen him sucking a teenager's penis. There had been no conviction in Grand Island so he had no record of a previous offence. Consequently, his lawyer got him out of a six-month prison term in exchange for his receiving Psychiatric Counseling for a period of one year and the fact that he was a first offender. After that his pedophile career ended, or he became more skilled at it, or he just plan didn't get caught again. Take your choice. Our problem, now, was what to do with the information. Joe said he knew John went every Monday and Wednesday night, from 8 PM to about 10 o'clock, to a bar on Hwy. 24. So, Monday evening, Joe and I went to the bar, Joe Stayed in the car and locked the door. I went in and John was, to say the least, surprised to see me. I told him I needed to talk to him and asked him to come out to the car. I think curiosity got the best of him. I turned on the two lights above the windshield and he sat in the front, passenger seat. Joe was in the back seat. I simply handed him the report from the Gumshoe Agency. He read it and said, "What the fuck is this, some kind of a sick joke?" "I think its a little more than that John, despite the comical name the Gumshoe Agency is a licensed by the State as a Private Investigators. And, it's certainly no joke to me. But it need go no further. I'm am, however, telling you that I want no more notes in my mail box, which in itself, is a Federal crime, and I want no more bullets fired into my house. If you agree, this is the end of the trouble. If you don't agree, I'm going to give the notes and the report to the Chief of Police and the Postmaster. I hope you didn't leave any fingerprints on the notes." John turned his head around, looked at Joe in the back seat and said, "Is this guy molesting you Joe." "No, Uncle John, you're the one that's molested me ever since I can remember. John got out, slammed the door and stood against the wall of the bar, his arm raised and resting against the wall, his head resting on his arm. Joe and I went home, didn't make it to the bedroom, but did some cocksucking on the living room couch and I fucked him for the umpteenth time since the night John shot a bullet through the room. I knew by now that Joe didn't need slow motion entry. I rammed my big, man cock deep inside his love hole and fucked him hard. He kept hollering. He loved it; the little bastard couldn't get enough. And neither could I. "Later, coming down from our sexual high, Joe said, "Remember when Uncle John asked me if you were molesting me and I replied that you weren't." "Yea why, have you changed your mind?" "Hardly. I know the difference between love and molesting. But do you know how I would have liked to have answered him." "I can guess but why don't you tell me anyway?" "I'd have liked to had said – No Uncle John, but were making love every day, starting with me putting my head on his stomach looking at his huge cock with a piss hard-on. We suck each other's cocks and Rich fucks the hell out of me every night before we go to sleep. Then we jack off each day at mom's house with Andy. Andy's another guy I want you to leave alone. Don't ever ask him again if you can suck him off." "I didn't know about Andy." "I didn't either until today." "I can understand your wanting to vent your anger. Look at it for the best though. Now we have all the ammunition. If you'd told him what you just told me he'd have some ammunition. For my part, I just want it to end. I don't want to start a family war." "Rich, do you think I could jack another load out of your nuts?" "I don't know but you're welcome to try." TO BE CONTINUED