THE JOURNEY OF ZACH by Tiny Tim Note: This story is only marginally original. I got most of the ideas from other people; sorry if I stole stuff from you. . . Disclaimer: This story includes descriptions of consensual sex between a man and a teenage boy. If the laws of your state prohibit this kind of story, STOP! You are about to commit a ThoughtCrime. If you are likely to be offended by this type of story, why the hell did you come here? Get outta here, and stay in alt.hypocritical.moralistic.bullshit! If you are under the age of 18, be advised that reading this type of story will make you go blind, grow hair on your palms and probably go insane. Remember to thank your wise elders for thus protecting you from independent thought, and remember that blind obedience to arbitrary authority is the only true path true enlightenment. This story never happened; it's totally made up, and any resemblance to any real boy or man is a total fucking accident. 14 Spotted Owls, 103 Snail Darters, 7 Dolphins and a partridge in a pear tree were accidentally harmed during the creation of this story, which was uploaded without the express written consent of Major Leauge Baseball. Sorry! (PART ONE) Chapter 1 It was somewhere east of Winfield, Texas where destiny brought Zach and me together. I was headed east on I-30, trying to hit Texarkana before dawn. I hate driving in city traffic, and I always try and pass through cities early in the morning or late at night. The trip had been a total disaster, at least the first half: the long flight from Bradley to LAX had worn me out to start with. I truly hate flying, and between the hassles of air travel and my creeping paranoia of being locked up in a flying coffin, I always arrive exausted and irritated. On top of the trip, my visit was less than pleasant: despite the success of three of my previous scripts, highly profitable action movies, the studio execs showed their contempt by offering a ridiculously small sum for my latest effort. Despite a week of negotiations, I left dissatisfied; they got their script (of course), I got a lot less money than it was worth, and everybody got a whole lot better picture of what we all thought of each other. It wasn't the money; I already had more money than I could ever possibly spend. It was the fact that I hate having those smug bastards tell me my work has no merit (even if they're right), even though they anxiously await the next installment. When my agent offered to make the arrangements for my return flight, I snapped "Fuck the plane, get me a car". I had decided to be a tourist for a while, driving home through the Southwest. Besides seeing a part of the country I always wanted to see, I might get some background for another script I was working on, an old-fashioned western (this one was definitely not going anywhere, I figured; westerns are not exactly the "in" thing these days). Being rich, single and gay has certain advantages: one, you can do what you want; two, you can do it when you want; three, everybody expects you to be a bit weird, so nobody's too shocked when you do eccentric things. Like driving across the United States because you feel like it. I had enjoyed my trip so far, and I certainly felt a lot better, a lot more relaxed. I love driving, and my agent had found me a beautiful car for travelling, a shiny black Mustang GT. My story was beginning to come together, and I had begun to nourish some hope that I could find a buyer. Maybe if I could pitch it to Eastwood. . . I had left Dallas somewhere after sundown, hit the interstate and set the cruise control at 70. I really wanted to open that V-8 up and hear it scream, but I knew better. I travelled enough to know the score. Down here, in the "Bible Belt", if you're gay, the last thing you want is to attract the attention of some redneck with a badge. I might not act like a "queer",and it might be possible to avoid trouble, but it's best not to take chances. My attention was really not on driving; I was working on the story in my head and the CD player was blasting out Metallica. My eyelids were beginning to droop as I daydreamed. Next thing I knew, I was drifting into the breakdown lane. As I was regaining my orientation, SOMETHING was right in front of me. "Fuck!" I jammed the wheel left and punched the brakes. Amidst the squealing of tires, I felt the can of soda I had been drinking spill in my lap, and then I was sliding, backwards, through the grass of the median strip. I stopped, apparently with no damage. My pants were soaked, and I suspected it wasn't all soda. Dust and tire smoke filled the inside of the car. My laptop and CDs were scattered on the seat and floor. My chest hurt, the result of the seatbelt doing it's job. Regaining my wits, I shut the car off. It was in 'park', although I didn't remember putting it in park. I flipped on the hazards, and stepped out on very shaky legs. After examining the car, I determined there was no damage done, just a few clumps of grass hanging here and there. Whatever was in the road had apparently escaped unscathed. "What the hell was that, anyhow?" I asked the night sky. My wet pants gained my attention. Popping the trunk open, I dug around until I found a pair of pants in my bags. I looked around; no trees nearby. Dawn was approaching, but it was still fairly dark. Oh fuck it, I thought, kicked off my shoes and dropped my pants. After looking to make sure there were no cars coming, I also stripped off my boxers. I quickly pulled on the clean pants and put my shoes back on. Hoping I had not been seen and reported for indecent exposure, I stuffed my dirty clothes into the trunk. I slammed the trunk and my poor heart missed a few more beats. I was staring into a pair of eyes not three feet away from me! Chapter II "Jesus Christ!" I hollered as I jumped back at least three feet. As I gasped for breath, visions of carjackers danced through my head. At the moment, I was too paralyzed to do anything. If I was about to be gunned down, there wasn't a hell of a lot I could do about it. As my heart stopped it's hammering, I realised that the possesor of those eyes was standing motionless. I scanned the figure quickly, but the hands were hidden by the fender of the car; I couldn't tell if this spectre was armed or not. I looked to the car door; it was open, but I wasn't sure if I could make it that far on my still shaky legs. Remaining frozen in place, I tried to determine what my visitor's intent was. As my eyes adjusted to the pre-dawn darkness, I determined that the figure didn't appear too threatening; it was, in fact, a boy. I was never good at guessing ages, but I figured the kid was about twelve or so. He had a small backpack slung over his shoulder, and was wearing some kind of ballcap. Although he continued his steady gaze, it seemed as though he was shaking. "God, you scared the hell out of me", I gasped, my voice not as loud as usual. The kid blinked, but made no other move. "You trying to give me a heart attack?" He shifted from one foot to the other, but continued to stare at me. Now, I was getting a little irritated. "What the hell are you looking at, anyway?" The eyes dropped to the ground and a small voice said, "I'm sorry". Curiousity mixed with my irritation. "What are you doing out here?" I demanded. "I just wanted to make sure you were ok. I'm sorry I made you crash your car." The boy seemed to be shaking more violently. "That was you? What the f-, I mean, what were you doing on the highway, in the middle of the night?" I was regaining control of myself, and my anger was turning to concern. "You didn't get hurt, did you?" I suspected the kid might be in some kind of shock. Then again, he might just be shaking because he was cold; it was a cool fall night. "I'm ok. I was trying to thumb a ride." "Thumb a ride? Are you crazy? Don't you know all the bad things that can happen to you?" "I'm not afraid. I do it all the time." I mulled that over briefly. Then something else popped into my head. "Do your parents know where you are?" "Parents? Hah!" There was more than a little bitterness in his voice. I considered that briefly. Well, Tim, I thought to myself, we can sort this out soon enough. "Well, I sure can't leave you out here. You may as well hop in." Chapter III I moved around to the passenger side to clean up the mess. As I passed the boy, I stopped. "By the way, my name's Tim." The habits of a lifetime kicked in, and I extended my hand towards the kid. Even in the dim light, I could see the kid flinch, the side of his face screwing up as if he expected to get hit. He opened his eyes and stared blankly at my hand, still extended. He hesitated, as if he was slow in recognizing the gesture. Even more slowly, he extended his hand and grabbed mine. "Zach", was his only reply. Even though I recieved a rather listless handshake, I couldn't help noticing his hand: soft skin; long, delicate fingers. Sensitive, a piano player's fingers. His grasp was also ice-cold. "Jeez, kid, you're like ice! I'll crank the heater up!" He mumbled something that I couldn't understand, and dropped his hand to his side. I quickly cleared up the mess and announced, "Ok, it's safe now. Jump in", and walked around to the driver's side. When I looked, the kid was still standing there, not moving an inch. "What's the matter? Get in." He obeyed, slowly. He pulled off his pack, got in and sat the pack on his lap. I jumped in, started the engine and turned the heat up all the way. I was going to be suffocating in a matter of minutes, but the kid obviously needed to get warmed up; I believed I had had enough first aid training to know hypothermia when I saw it. I was about to put it in drive when I saw that his door was still open. "Zach, it will get warm much faster if you shut your door. Besides, it will be much safer to drive with the door closed." My attempt at humor went unremarked upon, but he reached over, still looking straight ahead, and pulled the door shut. In this same manner, I managed to get him to stuff his backpack on the floor, and then fasten his seat belt. He followed my instructions like a zombie. This was getting kind of spooky! I eased the Mustang back onto the highway and kicked it up to 65. I figured from the map that I was maybe 25 miles from Bassett. I would just find a hospital or fire station, and turn the kid over to somebody who knew what they were doing. They could treat him and figure out where he belonged, and I could go on my merry way. I figured that would cheer him up, so I told him: "Zach, in about half an hour, we'll be in Bassett. I'll stop there and get you taken care of." "NO!" "What do you mean, no? You need medical attention! If I don't get you help, you could get even sicker!" He was now fully alive, and livid. " All I wanted was a ride, I wasn't doing anything wrong. If you turn me in, my stepdad will get me, and he'll kill me. And it will be your fault." He was screaming at me now. I cringed, getting as far away from the kid as I could. Time to try and calm the Psycotic Munchkin down. "Ok, we won't stop. Look, I'm just concerned because you looked sick." "I'm fine!" "You sure? I thought you were in hypothermia or something." "I'm ok, really. I was just freaked out from what happened. I'm ok now. I'm sorry." I noticed that, as the boy spoke, his tone changed from anger to fearful apology. It was almost as if he got five years younger as I listened. He sounded like a frightened little boy. Alright, Tim, let's try a different approach: "Look, let's start over. I'm Tim, you're Zach. I'm from Massachusetts. Where are you from?" He hesitated. "Vermont. I'm going to Vermont." "If you're from Vermont, what are you doing in Texas?" Again, hesitating, "I ran away. But now I'm trying to get home. If you take me as far as Massachusetts, I can walk the rest of the way." "How old are you, Zach?" "Thirteen." "Is your stepfather really going to kill you, Zach?" "I don't have a stepfather. My parents are dead", he mumbled. The kid was obviously falling asleep. "Then who are you going to in Vermont?" No answer. The boy was sound asleep. Chapter IV I drove on in silence, trying to figure out what I was going to do. I suspected the boy was not telling me the truth, or at least not the whole truth. Maybe he was a runaway, but I doubted he was from Vermont. More likely, he was just trying to get as far away from Texas as possible. Well, maybe we could get to the truth later. Well, we'll get to Texarkana, get some food, and maybe the kid will be more talkative. . . Oh, fuck! If I took the boy across state lines, wouldn't that be a crime? Even if I turned him over to the authorities, there would be a lot of questions asked, especially if he had been reported missing. I didn't mind helping the kid out, but I wasn't sure I wanted trouble. I could see the headlines. . . 'Gay Hollywood writer found with teen runaway'. Lovely. Now that it was light out, I glanced over to get a better look at the boy curled up in the passenger seat. He was wearing an L.A. Dodgers hat. The brilliant blond hair underneath was cut relatively short, except for a shock that stuck out the front, obscuring the left side of his face. Small, upturned nose and full lips. Under a tattered jean jacket, his yellow tee-shirt advertised a company that apparently made surfboards. Baggy, faded jeans with holes in the knees and ragged ankles. Hi-top Nikes that appeared to have been worn far beyond their useful life. If he really was 13, he was small for his age. His face and hands were deeply tanned. The bones in his cheeks and wrists stood out prominently. From this examination, I concluded that he hadn't been near a shower, laundromat or a decent meal recently. The hat and shirt hinted that he had been to California, but that was just a guess. Maybe the kid had run away from home. The condition of his clothes indicated that he didn't come from wealth. It was also possible that he had been on the road for a while. Could he have thumbed all the way from California? I doubted it. For one thing, I didn't think any kid could have thummed all the way to Texas without getting picked up by the cops. Second, he'd have to be very lucky to travel that far without getting snagged by a pervert or psyco. Finally, from what I'd seen, this kid didn't seem like he was old enough or mature enough to even think about trying it. Sure, it was all possible; just damn unlikely. Zach stirred, and stretched out in the seat. Looking again, I was impressed by how skinny he looked. The kid definitely needed a hot meal. Come to think of it, I needed food. And some sleep. I had been driving all night, and my eyelids were starting to get heavy again. I also realised something else; I didn't want to turn this kid over to the cops until I found out what his problem really was. Call it a need to be needed, or call it being nosy, but I wanted to find out if there was anything I could do to help him. 'You dumb-ass', I thought to myself, 'you can help him the most by turning him in. If he's in trouble, there are people who can help him more than you. Besides, the longer he's with you, the more trouble you could be in.' I quickly brushed aside pesky logic; I decided I'd try to get him to talk, then figure out what to do. Chapter V. As I got near Texarkana, I figured that I'd better tell the kid what I was doing. If he thought I was planning to drop him off at the police station, there was no telling what he'd do. I gently shook his shoulder. "Zach? Wake up, buddy." He yawned and stretched. Looking out, he glanced over at me. "Where are we?" "Almost in Texarkana. I'm gonna find a motel." He looked at me with an odd expression. "I've been driving all night. I was falling asleep when I almost ran you over. I'm even worse now. You hungry?" His face brightened somewhat. "Sure." "Look, we'd better get a couple things straight. First, I think that there's more to you than you're telling me. Fine, you tell me what you want me to know. In the meantime, I promise I'm not going to turn you in to the cops, at least until I'm sure that it's the best thing to do. But you have to promise me that, from now on, you'll tell me the truth. And, that you won't do anything foolish, like jump out of the car while I'm driving." His face darkened. He spent some time thinking about this. "Sure. Whatever." Fourty-five minutes later, I checked us into a moderately expensive motel as Tim and Zach Roberts. I told the boy that for a while, we would say that he was my nephew. He gave me a look that said he thought that was a pretty good joke. I had gotten the largest room in the place; two bedrooms, two bathrooms, living room and mini-kitchen with bar. I pointed to the open door of the second bedroom. "You can have that room. Drop your stuff and we'll get some food." "Can I take a shower first? I bet I smell pretty bad." "I guess I hadn't noticed. Sure, just don't be too long. I'm gonna pass out if I don't eat soon." Twenty minutes later, we were seated in the dining room. I told him to order whatever he wanted and he took me at my word. I watched in awe as he inhaled at least 10 pancakes, two orders of homefries, four tall glasses of milk and an entire platter of bacon. When the pastry cart appeared, he continued his pillaging with three doughnuts. I couldn't recall ever seeing anyone eat so much. More striking, he displayed almost perfect table manners, and said 'please' and 'thank you' to each waitress. I was stunned; most teenagers have all the courtesy of your average Visigoth. When he finally stopped to catch his breath, he said, "Thanks a lot. I didn't eat for three or four days before this". "My pleasure. You full?" "Yeah. I bet you can't wait to hit the sack." Another strange look crossed his face. "You know it." I signed the check, and we sauntered back to our suite. When we entered, Zach disappeared into his room. I hit the bathroom. After I answered nature's call and brushed my teeth, I decided I'd start trying to get some information from the boy. As I re-appeared, I called out: "Hey Zach, before I crash, I was curious. . ." Silence greeted me. I looked into the second bedroom to see Zach lying face-down on the bed. After assuring that he was only asleep and not ill, I pulled his shoes off and pulled the comforter over him. At that moment, I realized just how good-looking the kid was. That angelic face. . . 'If he was gay. . .' I thought to myself. 'You asshole! He's thirteen years old! Just a child, for chrissake!', my conscience screamed. 'If he were a few years older. . .' There was no denying that voice. 'I'm gay. I like men, yes, but not little kids!' Still, if he had been a couple years older, I would have been tempted to slip into bed with him. Shaking my head, I slipped out of the room, closing the door as I left. I changed into shorts and climbed into bed. I laid thinking for a while, considering my recent thoughts about the boy, about the fact I knew little about him (and what I knew, I couldn't trust), about all the crimes I could be charged with right about now (kidnapping, unclean thoughts, mopery with intent to creep, etc., etc.), about the fact that the boy WAS pretty attractive. . . Chapter VI. I was having a dream, a really cool one. Some nameless, hunky blond Adonis was giving me the blow-job of my life, his miraculous tounge driving me to spasms of ecstasy. I was quivering with delight. As I approached the final approach, I looked down to see that blond head bobbing up and down, I was moaning in delight in a dark hotel room in Texarkana. . ."HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!" Zach looked up from my groin, a look of confused terror on his face. As he did, my orgasm hit me. As I tried to piece together what the hell was going on, my first blast hit him right between the eyes. WHAT THE HELL?. . .my second shot nailed him in the chest. The boy just stared at me, his eyes were huge, I wished somebody would tell me what was going on, two or three streams hit ME in the chest, the boy was in bed with me, sperm splattered on my stomach, Jesus H Christ the kid was naked, another load hit my stomach as I gasped for breath, what the hell is happening?. . . Anyone who has made the mistake knows the rule: do not wake me up suddenly. If I'm startled, I come up violently. Zach did not know that rule. As I gasped for breath, I started piecing things together, and I didn't like the picture one bit: apparently the boy was sucking me in my sleep. Why would he want to do that? Only one way to find out. . . "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING?!?!?!?!?!?" I screamed at him, as I sat up in bed. Zach let out a startled squeek and fell over backwards, hitting the floor with a solid thump. I looked over the side of the bed and saw the boy, curled up in a ball on the floor; "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I though you'd like it! I'm sorry! Please don't hurt me! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He had pulled his arms up to cover his face and head. He was sobbing. 'Things are going way too fast', I thought. I needed a little time to think about this. I rolled out the opposite side of the bed, leaving wet spots all over the sheets. I rooted around in my stuff untill I found my cigarettes. I lit up and inhaled deeply. As I dragged on the cigarette, I considered what had happened. Zach was still sobbing from the other side of the bed. I lit another cigarette and walked around to that side. It dawned on me that I was naked, and it wasn't proper for me to be naked near this boy, especially since he was also naked. Oh sure, Tim! The kid just had your cock in his mouth, and you're worried he's going to see your hairy ass? Regardless, I located my shorts. I finally got up the nerve to look at the kid. He was still lying naked in his defensive position, whimpering softly. His eyes were locked on me; a wounded animal waiting for it's tormentor's next attack. I sat down on the bed in front of him. "Get up, Zach", I said as gently as possible. He slowly stumbled to his feet and stood in front of me. He stood there naked, his arms hanging limply at his sides, sobs convulsing him. He was very obviously scared shitless. He stood there in this vulnerable position, waiting for whatever I planned to do to him. I kept my eyes firmly on his face. As much as I wanted to satisfy my curiousity and check him out, I did not want to give him any idea that I might want to resume the activities of earlier. "Why don't you put some clothes on." He searched the floor until he located a tattered pair of boxers. Keeping a close watch on me, he pulled them on. I guessed he still expected an attack to commence at any second. He made no move to retrieve any more of his clothes. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt you. Sit down." He sat down in a chair facing me. Ok, he's a little calmer, you're a little calmer. You wanted to find out what his story is? This is as good a time as any. Just keep your cool and be careful what you say. Zach sat quietly, scanning my face for any clues to what would happen next. At least he had stopped crying; 'Ok, Tim, just try and keep him calm, and whatever you do, don't start yelling at him again'. "Ok, Zach, I've got some questions." "Sure you do. Go ahead." "Remember, you promised to tell me the truth." "Yes. I remember." "Alright. First of all, why did you do that?" "Come on, you know why." "No, I don't. I really don't understand." Zach studied my face for a moment, then his bright blue eyes opened wide. He almost smiled. "God! You really don't, do you?" I waited for him to continue. The smile vanished. The eyes seemed to change color. And tone. They were the blue of tempered steel. These eyes weren't laughing. "Ok, this is how things usually work. You give me a ride, maybe some food, if you're really cool a place to sleep. I blow you, you blow me if you want. Next day, you leave a couple bucks and head down the road." I sat there, shocked; shocked that this kid could make such a statement. Shocked that he thought that was how life worked. Shocked that I was so clueless; thinking back on those odd looks he had been giving me, I realized that I had led him to believe that was my game. The revelation was blinding, like a flash-bulb in the face. "Shit, for an old guy, you're pretty naive. You wanted to know. Want to know more? Check this out; I'm a fag, just like you." "How do you know I'm gay?" "I saw you on TV once, talking about it. I know who you are. You're some kind of writer." No denying that; after my third movie was released, I had appeared on a few talk shows: in the course of some of the shows, I had discussed the fact I was gay. "Hey, I bet you're rich. Maybe I could. . ." "Maybe you could what?" "Nothing." He started crying again. "Sorry." The little boy returned. That was all I could stand. I went over and sat on the arm of the chair. I wrapped my arms around the sobbing boy. "Hey, it's all right." He returned the embrace, his tears soaking my bare chest. "Its all right. Just let it out." At that moment, I thought I could feel the pain in this small, angelic boy. I wanted more than anything in the world to take all the hurts and cares this kid carried away from him; if I had to bear them for him, that was fine. "It's going to be all right." Chapter VII. We sat, wrapped in each other's arms, for a long, long time. Zach babbled incoherently much of the time. I tried to listen carefully, hoping for some clues. Most of the stuff he said made no sense. As he slowed down the bawling and just clutched me, quietly sobbing, one thing became chrystal-clear to me: I HAD to help him. It was just THERE, no logic or reasoning behind it. Not cops, not social workers; ME. I never understood that feeling, it was just there, undeniable. I realised that, at that moment, I would do anything to help the boy be happy. 'Ok, Mister Helper, whatcha gonna do? You don't have clue one, do you? Be honest, you just want to keep him so you can fuck him. Come on, that's it, just admit it.' NO! HE'S A HELPLESS BOY. HE'S BEEN USED BADLY. I CAN'T ADD TO THAT. I tried to argue against what my conscience knew, but it was a losing battle. My fate was sealed the minute I picked Zack up. I don't know about 'love at first sight' but the one certainty in the world at that moment was that I was attracted to the boy. Was I a 'boy-lover', a pedophile? I considered my past partners; ever since I was a teenager, my lovers were almost always younger than me. Not necessarily boys, but definitely younger. Whatever you want to call it, it was in high gear now. And was Zach really so helpless? I had the feeling he was a lot smarter, and tougher, than he appeared. Zach was staring at me. What was that look in his eyes? Certainly, it wasn't fear. Gratitude? Love? Lust? I realized that I didn't know him well enough to tell. Hell, I didn't know much of anything about him. I tore my eyes away and looked at the clock: almost 8PM. I considered travelling tonight; fuck that. I had paid for two nights (plus extra to check in at 8 in the morning), so I might as well take advantage of it. Besides, I wanted to know more about Zach before we got too far down the road. "I'll call room service. What do you want to eat?" Half an hour later, we were busy stuffing ourselves with burgers and fries. When we were done, I snagged a beer out of the fridge. Zach looked at it, and then me, speculatively. "Oh, what the hell. What can it hurt?" I shoved the beer across the table to him and grabbed another. He took two big gulps and belched loudly. Then Zach poured out his guts to me. VIII. The blond boy fixed me with a steady gaze and, without any preamble, started telling me the story of his life. He had been born in San Fransisco, and lived there with his parents until he was eight. He was the only child, and I could tell from how he talked that he loved his parents very much. One night, his parents went out to dinner, leaving him with a baby sitter. His parents were killed in a car accident that night. Two days later, Zach spent his ninth birthday in a foster home. Eventually, he was sent to live with his grandmother in Los Angeles. He spent a lot of time in counselling. Telling this part, he could hardly conceal his contempt for the various people who tried to help him deal with his loss. "They were trying to tell me how I felt. How the fuck would they know?" After a while, the professionals left him alone, and he settled into a regular routine with his grandmother, who he also loved greatly. Then, one day, he came home and found his grandmother dead, apparently of a heart attack. With no other relatives available, Zach was put in a foster home. As Zach described the foster home, I could hardly contain my disgust. The lovely people who were entrusted with Zach's care spent the money the state gave them on themselves and dressed Zach in hand-me-down clothes from their own kids. They seemed to go out of their way to make Zach feel like an outsider in their home. Even worse, Zach was constantly being 'punished'. Whether he did something wrong, or one of the other kids did it, Zach was beaten up. After about a year of this, Zach ran away. He was found and returned to more beatings. When he ran away again, he was sent to a youth detention center. Shortly after his eleventh birthday, he broke out and drifted into the L.A. underworld. Zach lived on the streets for over a year, 'hanging' with some of the other runaway children who populated the L.A. streets. He begged, he ate at soup kitchens (and sometimes out of dumpsters), and he occasionally turned "tricks" to make money. Since he was young and attractive, he found he could make a lot of money in this way. By the time he was twelve and a half, he had managed, somehow, to rent a run-down apartment. He lived there for seven months with six or seven other kids, selling his body to pay the rent and buy food. He 'took care' of the others (even though he was the youngest), some of whom were drug addicts. One night, while he was 'working', one of the druggies lit the place on fire. Zach returned to find his home and his few possessions going up in flames. Fearing the police would find him and return him to the detention center, Zach hit the road. Without knowing where he was going to go, and with nothing but the clothes on his back and twenty dollars in his pocket, he headed East. Zach had spent the last month wandering the Southwest, thumbing rides and doing what he had to do to survive. Then, I came along. Zach had been talking for more than an hour. The entire time, he had kept his eyes firmly on me. For my part, I had sat silently, stunned by what he told me. I got another beer. I motioned to Zach; he shook his head. I grabbed a cigarette. Did I believe the kid? Yes, I did. Again, there was no logic, only the feeling. This innocent-looking boy had been surviving on his own for over two years, in an environment that was not exactly conducive to survival. I found that I loved him even more. And there was no doubt that, if he would give me the chance, I wanted to take care of him. Zach got up to strech his legs, and I couldn't resist running my eyes over his body. He was wearing only socks and gym shorts. He was five feet three, maybe five-four, and not an ounce of fat on his lean body. His blond hair accented his tanned, angelic face. His body hinted that he was more than a boy, but not far on the road to manhood; his taut chest and stomach showed the promise of muscles that would appear later, and a coating of scarcely-noticable fuzz covered his cheeks, upper lip and thighs, betraying the hairy man of the future. I sat back down. "So, what next? Where are you going to go?" He just shrugged. "Well, if you want, you can ride with me for a while. I'm going home to Massachusetts, and I can take you as far as you want to go." "That would be great! I wish I could pay you something, though. You've been way too nice." "Don't even think about it, Zach. You don't owe me anything. Anything." I emphasized the end, hoping he got my message; you don't have to have sex with me. I doubted I would be able to control myself if he tried again. "You want to watch TV or something?" "That would be cool." We spent the rest of the evening watching TV. We sat together on the couch, my arm around him. He rested his fair head on my chest, just like a little kid. I suspected he was grateful for my attention, and I was glad to give it. I still wondered if I was doing the right thing. I certainly had no experience with situations like these. What my head told me to do, turn the kid in, seemed so horrible that I knew I could never do it. I would just have to 'play it by ear', as the saying goes. Before we went to bed that night, Zach crushed me in a massive bear-hug and whispered, simply, "Thank You". IX. We awoke fairly early the next morning. After Zack inhaled multitudes of french toast, we packed, checked out and hit the road. Our first stop was a local clothing store. I told him to get a couple sets of clothes, to replace the beat-up stuff he was wearing. "Just don't buy anything that makes you look like a drug dealer." Each time he picked out an item, he looked at me, as if for my approval. We quickly got carried away, and when we were done, he gaped as the total reached $500. He looked stunned as I calmly pulled out my gold card and handed it over to the young saleslady. Back in the car, I ventured to ask him which way he wanted to go. He just shrugged and replied that wherever I went was good enough for him. I decided on a more direct route home. The days and the miles flew by. We spent many hours talking, and we tried to get to know each other. I learned that Zach knew of no other relatives he could live with, so that idea went down the drain. He also made it clear that, should I decide to betray him, he would take whatever measures necessary to avoid going back to California. I had no intention of doing that, and told him so. Zach was very talkative. He talked about anything that came to mind. He was fairly articulate for a 13-year-old, his speech dotted with California slang, but his spotty education became more evident the more he talked. It didn't matter to me, I loved him, but his education was going to require some attention. This cheerful, curious boy deserved a better life than he had been stuck with so far. At one point, I hesitantly tried to bring up his habit of behaving like a little kid in times of stress. Zach just laughed, explaining that when he was selling himself in L.A., he put on that act to make himself more enticing. Later on, he discovered that it had a way of disarming people, and made it easier for him to get what he needed. It also helped him out of some dangerous situations. "I guess I don't need to use that act on you anymore, do I?", he snickered. I also spent some time thinking about what I planned to do. I figured I would get home, and contact a lawyer friend about the possibilities of adopting the boy. I knew it would not be easy for a single man to adopt a child, but I figured there had to be a way. Assuming, of course, Zach was amenable. I could see I was going to have to have a very long, very serious discussion with him; I was going to have to tell him about my feelings for him. I was afraid it might scare him away, but I owed it to Zach to be honest. Whether or not he could accept me, it had to be his decision. The thought of losing him terrified me, but living under false pretenses seemed like an even worse alternative. Our last night on the road, we checked into a nice little motel outside of Scranton, Pennsylvania. We got a room with two beds and set out to forage for dinner. A couple hours later, stuffed with Chinese food, we returned and plopped down on the couch to watch a hockey game. Zach was totally unfamiliar with the sport, and I spent a lot of time explaining the game to him. He seemed to genuinely enjoy this time; we were just like father and son. I think I enjoyed it even more. When the game was over, we talked a while longer. Zach became very quiet. He kept glancing at me, then looking away. "Something on your mind?", I finally asked. "Yeah, kind of." "Well?" "Why are we like this?" "Like what?" "Well, you know, like. . . why are we fags?" He couldn't look at me. I thought he was blushing. "Look, Zach, just because you had sex with men for money doesn't mean you're gay." "When I was in the youth center, I kept checking out the other guys in the shower. It made me feel weird. I thought about what it would be like to, like, do 'stuff' with them. Sometimes, I'd start getting a boner and I'd have to leave before somebody noticed. I was scared they'd beat me up if they found out. When I was older, I'd jerk off, and I always thought about guys. I never thought about girls like that. I was really freaked out. I thought I was crazy or something. Finally, my friend David told me he felt the same way. I guess it wasn't so bad when I knew somebody else like me. I miss him a lot." I could see he was fighting back tears. I hugged him tight. "Well, Zach, to be honest, I don't know why we're gay." "Does anyone know?" "Not for sure. Some people think it's something in our genes. Other people think it's some kind of chemical imbalance in the brain. Anyway, it doesn't matter. There's no cure. We are what we are, and nothing can change it. The best we can do is accept it and be happy." Zach sighed. "Sorry I can't give you a better answer, Zach, but that's the truth, as much as I know. So, what happened to your friend?" He shook his head. "I don't know. After the fire, I just took off. I never said goodbye to him or anyone else. I don't even know if he's alive." He was losing his battle to hold the tears in. I thought for a moment. "Maybe, someday, we can find out what happened to him. I don't know how, but we can try." "Yeah, we can try." Zach lapsed into silence. He was still fighting his tears, so I just held him. The evening news came on. I realised I hadn't seen the news in at least a week. As I tried to catch up on what was going on the world, Zach continued clutching me. Slowly, so slowly I hardly realized it, his hand began roaming, around my chest and down, down, down until it rested on my crotch. I was finally awakened to this fact as my manhood began to stir itself, getting ready for possible action. I looked over and saw that he was looking up at me, smiling. "Zach, I told you, you don't have to do this." "But I want to." "You don't understand. . ." "I understand plenty. I want to, and so do you. Why are you resisting me?" "I dont think. . ." His face loomed up, blocking out the TV. That beautiful face! "That's right, don't think." His lips were on mine. I surrendered without a fight. X. Zach started forcing his tounge between my lips. The only coherent thought I could muster was the standard greeting of the Star Trek villans, the Borg. 'Resistance is futile. Prepare to be assimilated.' I was prepared! I let the boy in, his hot young tounge probing my mouth furiously. When I returned the favor, he sucked my tounge right in. I couldn't believe it; this kid was sucking face with me and liking it! I started to get comfortable with the whole idea, weird as it was. As we explored each other's mouths, we were both getting worked up, like two dogs in heat. Zach let out a giggle, and I realised that there was something minty rolling around in my mouth; his chewing gum! This was unexpected, but sensual in a weird way. I did the only plausible thing; I chewed it a few times (careful to avoid biting the boy's tounge), and passed it back. We continued this way for a while. My cock now felt as hard as steel, so hard it hurt. I felt like my pants were about to explode with the pressure. After I passed the gum back yet another time, Zach suddenly pulled away. Standing up on the couch, he straddled my hips and pushed me back. He slowly peeled his t-shirt off, exposing his lightly-muscled chest and hard stomach. As he continued, he revealed the beginnings of hair under his arms. Finally, the shirt was gone, and he stood over me, his lean torso heaving with passion. I reached up and caressed his bare skin. I teased his hard nipples, and he threw his head back in abandon. I traced circles around his navel, drawing small moans out of him. My hands slid down to his waist, and circled around to the mound of his young ass. He suddenly grabbed my hands and pushed them down to my sides. Straightening up, he started rubbing his own chest, down to his hard stomach. He suggestively slid one hand into the front of his jeans. I could feel my pre-cum soaking my underwear as he pulled his hand out, and traced the outline of his boxers, which stuck out of his jeans in the current teen style. When he reached the button on his jeans, he looked down with an questioning look in his eyes. "You're the boss", I whispered. Reassured, he continued his little striptease act by slowly undoing his jeans. He slid them down and stepped out. His boxers were tented, poorly concealing the treasure hidden beneath. Slowly, so slowly he worked his thumbs into the waist of his undershorts. His hands were shaking. My whole body was shaking. He deliberately worked his shorts down, finally revealing the sparse patch of blond hair around his 5 inch boyhood. His dick was not that long, but it was suprisingly thick. It pointed almost straight up, his circumcised head shining with pre-cum. I looked, but kept my hands at my sides. He finished pulling off his shorts and jerked himself a couple times, sending droplets of pre-cum flying. Zach's whole body was shivering now, the goose-flesh evident everywhere. He leaned forward, bringing his cock almost in contact with my face. My tounge darted out, and I slowly circled his glans with it. He was leaking heavily now, panting and shuddering. I opened my mouth a little more and gently ran my teeth across his sensitive helmet as I licked the pre-cum from his piss slit. The boy let out a whining sound from deep in his throat. Zach leaned forward more and pushed his pulsing boymeat into my mouth. I swirled my tounge around, licking as much of him as I could reach. I reached up and started to caress his velvety legs, the skin seeming to jump at my touch. I could feel his built-up passion, straining to be released. Zach grabbed my head with both hands and started fucking my mouth. Starting out slowly, he was soon thrusting at a furious pace. I continued stroking his legs and putting my tounge to its best possible use. Zach's head was thrown back, and he grunted with each thrust. Slowing slightly, Zach looked down at me. "Oh shit, Tim, can I come in your mouth?" I answered by grabbing his smooth, tight ass and pushing him further into my mouth. With that encouragement, he increased his tempo to a frantic pace. I could hardly breathe, but I was determined to hold on. In a frenzy, he began making little guttural growling noises. He was sweating, his blond hair matted to his head. His eyes were shut tight, his teeth bared. As I felt his rod start to twitch, I stopped toungeing him and sucked harder. His thrusts became even more violent; I had a brief vision of him knocking my teeth out. Zach was beyond control. "Oh Fuck. Oh God. AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!",he screamed. His cock went totally rigid and his body froze. His first blast of cum fired right down my throat, as did the second and third. I swallowed, mainly to avoid gagging. The amount and velocity of his cum was incredible; I had never experienced anything like it. "AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH" Three or four more shots filled my mouth with his cream. I swallowed, and increased the suction, trying to milk every drop out of his loins. I felt him have two or three more dry spasms, and his boyhood started to soften up. I cleaned every drop of cum off of his cock before he finally pulled out. Zach collapsed, gasping, next to me on the couch. He was totally drained by his ferocious orgasm. He stared at me, speechless. I slowly wiped some stray drops of his seed off of my lips. "Holy shit!", he gasped, "that was incredible!". As his breathing slowly returned to normal, he grinned sheepishly, "I swallowed my gum!". We both laughed. My laughing was interrupted when Zach leaned forward and began undoing my jeans. "You don't have to. . ." "I know, but I want to. Your pecker's in an uproar, and I know what to do about it. Just relax." There was nothing to do but lean back and let Zach have his way. He quickly stripped me down, and began massaging my chest. I was shaking almost as much as he had been earlier. Ever so slowly, he worked his hands downward. I was so hard I could pound nails. I hadn't been this worked up since I was a teenager. When Zach's young hands reached my manhood, I thought I would come right then and there. His fingers softly caressed the shaft, and he slid one hand down to gently massage my balls. I moaned loudly. I knew I couldn't last long. Suddenly, his soft lips wrapped around my member. I came within 30 seconds, not even having time to warn Zach to get out of the way. I felt my cock twitch wildly as I flooded his mouth with my cream. I felt him swallow as I continued to shoot. When I was done, Zach returned my favor of earlier by expertly cleaning my flaccid dick before letting it flop out. "My God, Zach", I gasped, "that was the best". "Thanks" he grinned, a dribble of my juice running down his chin. "Nobody ever got me off that fast before. You're incredible, kid." "And you're pretty good for such an old guy." Shortly, we went to bed together, wrapped in each others arms. XI. I woke up with Zach's arm and leg flung over me, and his hard boy-meat digging into my side. I looked at his peaceful, sleeping face and decided this was the best possible way to wake up. Still, nature called, so I gently untangled arms and legs, being careful not to wake him. I padded off to the bathroom and performed my duties; then I dug up a cigarette and ashtray and sat down in a chair facing the bed. Zach looked so peaceful, so angelic, one would never guess the incredibly hard life he had lived. The boy had experienced so much pain, so much loss, that I wondered if I could have coped as well as he had. I realised that, even though I didn't think so at the time, I had lived a near-idyllic childhood and adolescence. My parents were always there for me, even if they didn't understand me. My friends were always there when I needed them. Although I went through the initial shock when I realised I was 'different', I had quickly become comfortable with my preference. Of course, there was always name-calling, but I was always physically big enough that nobody tried to mess with me. Thinking about this, I realised that I could never really understand what Zach thought or felt. Despite the fact that I was twice his age, he had much more experience in life than me. He knew things I could never know; had felt things I could never feel. He was, in his own way, much more mature at thireen than I was at thirty. Could I have survived on my wits at his age, on the heartless, violent city streets? I doubted I could do it now, never mind when I was a kid. I thought I understood why he had attached himself to me; for all his street-smarts, he still needed affection. He seemed to want someone to take care of him. He needed to feel safe. How he ever selected me, I couldn't tell. And wasn't I really just taking advantage of a scared, lonely little kid? I thought I loved him, but wasn't it just lust? Adults are supposed to protect kids, not take advantage of them; they definitely aren't supposed to have sex with them! My conscience started whipping me with that: 'you scumbag, you're no better than those animals who lure kids into their cars. Zach needed help and affection, NOT a blow job! The kid is going to be even more messed up than he already is, thanks to you'. But, didn't he start it? Didn't he initiate things last night? 'Sure, just like he did with total strangers, except then he did it for money; he did it last night to show you his appreciation. It's probably the only way to thank you that the poor kid understands.' I sat there for a long time, smoking and wallowing in my guilt and self-loathing. Eventually, Zach woke up and stretched. He flashed me a radiant smile. Still smiling, he admonished me, "You shouldn't smoke, you know; it's bad for your health". I was feeling so guilty I couldn't answer. I just sat there. Zach frowned. "Something wrong?" I still couldn't speak. "C'mon Tim, say something. Are you mad at me?" "No, Zach, not at you. At me. What happened last night shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry I was too weak to stop myself." He stared at me a second, then he started shaking his head. "You didn't do anything wrong last night. I wanted it as much as you, maybe more. And I can't wait to do it again." "But Zach, don't you understand that it can't happen again? Maybe you wanted to do it, but I don't think you're old enough to make these kind of decisions." He looked me straight in the eye. His voice seemed older, much more mature than any teenager I had ever known: "Maybe, but I don't think so. I've had to make more important decisions than THAT, ever since I broke out of the Youth Center". Zach threw the covers off, revealing his lean, naked body. He jumped out of bed and climbed onto me. He sat on my lap, facing me with his legs wrapped around me. He wrapped his arms around my neck and fixed me with those brilliant, hypnotic blue eyes. "Listen to me, Tim. It sounds weird, 'cause I'm just a kid, but I love you, and I'm pretty sure you love me, too. It's not just sex; I want to spend my life with you. I once heard somebody in a movie say, 'love means never having to say you're sorry'. Stop being sorry for what you did. You're supposed to do things like last night when you love someone. "I know you feel guilty, but just stop it, ok? We both did what was in our hearts last night. We'll do it again, even if I have to wait until you're asleep. "You worried about the cops? I'll never tell them, why should I? Shit, I practically raped you! "Maybe I am too young to decide about things like this. I'm also too young to have no family to take care of me. I was too young to sell my ass on the street. I was too young to have to keep my junkie friends from dying when they got some bad smack. And, I know I'm too young to be thumbing across the country by myself. Everybody has to do things they're not prepared for; that's life. Don't ever tell me I'm too young to decide who I love! "Let me tell you something else. Last night was like my first time. All those other times, it was business. Hell, I never even came once when I was with a trick, I just faked it. Last night was the first time I did it cause I wanted to. The only other times I came was when I was jerking off, but this was totally different. Now I know what 'making love' really is. "You want to apologise for that? It's the greatest thing anyone's ever done for me in my life. If you can't handle it, if you don't want me here, say so. Otherwise, you'd better learn to deal with it, 'cause I'm stickin' with you." Zach's eyes were defying me to respond. My mouth opened and closed, but words failed me. I couldn't believe how adult he sounded. I tried to think of something logical to counter with, but no luck. "Well, I guess that means I can stay. If you're not gonna talk, I have another use for your mouth." With that, he kissed me. I gave up all resistance and returned the kiss; the sensation was comfortable, familiar; like we had been together for years. After a while, I broke it off with, "Where's your gum? Swallow it again?" Both of us collapsed in hysterical laughter. Zach was laughing so hard, he fell over backwards, once again hitting the floor with a thump. This time, though, the tears were from laughter. When he finally caught his breath, Zach grabbed his cock, which was standing ready for action, and looked up at me hungrily. I pointed at his boner and said, "You can just save THAT until we get home, you horny little twerp. We can make it there by tonight, if you don't make me crash the car on the way." That set him off in more gales of laughter. Without another word, I stepped over him and headed for the shower, leaving Zach rolling on the floor, as happy as I had yet seen him. XII. As I drove along and Zach chatted continuously, I considered my situation. Very simply, I was a goner. Everything Zach had said that morning was absolutely true. Even though I had known him only a short time, he seemed like an indispensable part of my life. I didn't think I could live without him. Next problem was, what was I going to do about it? Not only had I transported a minor across the country, I figured there was a warrant out for him in California. If anybody (like the police) took the trouble to check thoroughly, he would be discovered. If it became known that I had sex with a 13-year-old boy, and even if I didn't go to jail for 300 years, my life would be ruined. Well, I'd just have to find a way. . . "Hey, didn't you hear me?" Zach interrupted my thoughts. The boy studied me intently for a while. "You're not still feeling guilty are you? That stuff is getting old , dude." He sounded exasperated, like he was talking to a little kid who wouldn't listen. "No, thats not it. Heck, if anybody finds out, I'll just blame it on you. THAT was all your fault, you seduced me." He grinned at me. I continued, "What I was thinking about, is this; how am I gonna work it so that you can stay with me? I mean, somebody's bound to notice you, eventually. If they tell the cops, I'll go to jail, and you'll probably get sent back to California". "How would they find out?", he asked innocently. "Well, you can't hide in my house until you're 18. You'll have to go to school, the doctor, the dentist, and so forth. Pretending you're my nephew is only going to work for so long. What we need to do is find a way that you can legally stay with me." "Why don't you adopt me?", Zach suggested, a hopeful look in his eyes. "I'd love to, Zach, but the authorities don't usually approve of single men adopting children, especially when the man is gay." "Yeah, I guess they'd probably figure stuff was going on." Zach thought a while. "So, what are you going to do?" "Well, I figured I'd call a friend of mine who's a lawyer. He may be able to figure something out." Zach objected instantly to the word 'lawyer'. I'm sure, with his experience, anybody connected with 'The Law' was untrustworthy. It took a while to explain to him about 'attorney-client priviledge', and that anything I told my lawyer was confidential. He finally accepted my explanation, but I could tell he wasn't totally convinced. I also explained how this lawyer helped gay people with their particular problems. This made him a little more comfortable, but not much. "What if he can't help us?" "Well, we could always go to Europe. Some countries there are more open-minded about these things. The only problem is, we probably couldn't ever come back." Zach shook his head. "No, we have to find another way." He explained that, someday, he wanted to go back to California and find his friends, and help them if he could. I looked at him with admiration. After what he had been through, Zach would have been justified in accepting his good fortune and forgetting about the hell he had escaped from. Instead, his first thought was to help others. What a great kid! We drove and chatted as the miles rolled by. Finally, we were rolling along I-90 as dusk descended. The west slope of the Berkshire Mountains rose up around us, the last of the brilliant fall foliage barely visible in the fading light. Finally, we passed the big blue sign: "Bienvenue. Welcome to Massachusetts." XIII. It took another hour to reach my home. Zach was silent. I sensed he wanted to be alone with his thoughts, so I made no attempt to initiate a conversation. I live in a bustling college town, a cross between Victorian splendor and modern art-deco flashiness. I intentionally drove through the center of town, filled with pedestrians and shoppers despite the fact it was Thursday night. I gave Zach the driving tour of my hometown, and then aimed towards home. My home, a rather large, restored Victorian, was the last on a dead-end street of similar homes. Perched on a hill overlooking the street, each house had a huge, tree-filled yard and long driveway. Once the homes of bankers and judges, most of the homes were now inhabited by well-off professors and professionals, most with fairly large families. Although they were all more or less concerned about me being gay (especially the ones with sons), we were all on a first-name basis and enjoyed a friendly, comfortable co-existence in our little corner of the world. As we drove slowly down the well-lit street, Zach examined everything closely, especially the kids still out riding their bikes. A few stopped to 'check out' the strange car, relaxing when they saw me behind the wheel. A couple waved. Most just went back to their activities when they realized it was just 'that queer writer guy'. As I turned into my driveway, Zach was startled out of his silence when lights began going on all over the place. "Holy shit! Wow! That's cool." "Thanks. They're run by a motion detector." The house was now lit up enough to be seen distinctly. "Well, this is it, Zach. Home sweet home." "Wow. It's so huge! Do you live here by yourself?" "Well, I have been. From time to time, other people have lived here with me, but not right now." "Other people? Like boyfriends and stuff?" He asked slyly. "Yeah, like boyfriends and stuff." I pulled into the garage, and Zach followed me excitedly into the house. He stared in awe as I took him through each and every room in the house. Besides the sheer size of the grand old house, he was impressed with what I called my 'toys'; big-screen tv, a stereo with enough power to put the house in orbit, state-of-the-art computer, jacuzzi, and so on. I always referred to myself as 'comfortably wealthy'; to a boy who was accustomed to getting his dinner out of a dumpster, it must have seemed like I was rolling in wealth. At one point, he exclaimed, "Wow! You must be wicked rich!" When we went down to the basement, he was suitably impressed with my regulation-size pool table, but when we went into my weight room, he was totally stunned. "Oh my God! This is so cool! Can I use this stuff, too?" He was practically jumping up and down, like a little boy on Christmas Day. "Of course you can, but wait 'till I show you how to use it properly. You can get hurt, if you don't know what you're doing." Next stop was the back yard. Zach was most impressed by the pool. He looked a moment, and then looked at me, quizzically, "Why is it covered up?" I was mystified for a moment, then I remembered that Zach was from California. "Because this is New England. You have to cover it during the winter so it doesn't get wrecked." "You mean real winter? With snow and stuff? Wow, that's cool!" I couldn't help but be mildly amused. "You mean you've never seen snow before?" "Only on TV. When does it start?" "Whenever Mother Nature feels like it. Maybe tommorrow, maybe in two months" "I can't wait!" "Well, while you're waiting, let's get our stuff out of the car, and find you a room." XIV. Within an hour, Zach had his own room; I told him to pick any of the six bedrooms and, without hesitation, he picked the one next to mine. I rustled up some food, realizing it was 9:30 at night and we hadn't eaten since noon. As I puttered around the kitchen getting it ready, I realized Zach was watching me closely. When I glanced over at him, I saw a single tear trickle down his cheek. "What's the matter, Zach?" He sniffled. "I was just thinking about my mom. She used to cook dinner for me and dad every night." I hugged him and he squeezed me as tight as he could. "I'm so sorry Zach. I bet you miss them a lot." He pushed me away, smiling despite his moist eyes. "Lets quit this before I start bawling again. Hurry up and cook, I'm hungry." Fortunately, I had found a family-size package of lasagna in the freezer. The 'human vaccum cleaner' ate in his usual prodigious manner, and when we were done, nothing remained but an empty pan and a few bread crumbs. After asking where he could find a towel, he disappeared upstairs to take a shower. I cleaned up the dishes and sat down to watch some TV, figuring that by now, Zach was crashed. It had been a long day. "Tim!", Zach bellowed from upstairs. "What is it?" "Can you come up here? Please?" I detected a note of urgency in the voice. I hurried upstairs, mildly concerned. When I entered Zach's room, the first thing I noticed was that he had made himself right at home; that is, his clothes and belongings were scattered all over the place. By the light of the small lamp on the nightstand, I could see he was already in bed, his hair still shining damply from the shower. "What's the matter?" "Well, I've had this problem all day long, and you promised you take care of it when we got home. . ." With that, he pulled down the sheets, revealing the fact that he was naked and fully engorged. "I thought you might want to take care of this before I went to bed and messed up the nice sheets", he grinned. I noticed he had wisely closed the blinds. I walked over to the side of the bed. He reached out and grabbed my now-hard member through my pants. "Hmm. You seem to have a bigger problem than me. I'll just have to wait until you're taken care of." Zach sat up facing me, and started pulling my clothes off. My shirt was quickly gone, and my pants and shorts soon were around my ankles. As I stepped out of them, Zach put his arms around my neck and hoisted himself up. He wrapped his legs around me and pressed his lips to my waiting mouth. His tounge intruded, soon followed by the minty presence of his gum. We were soon passing his gum back and forth. I never understood why this was such a turn-on for both of us; well, whatever. Presently, Zach leaned backwards. Although my 5-10 body was strong enough to support him, the suprise move caused me to lose my balance, and we both toppled onto the bed. I twisted sideways as I fell, trying not to hurt Zach by landing right on top of him. The end result was that Zach ended up on top of me on the bed, still maintaining his grip on my body, and on my lips. The gum was in my mouth when Zach finally broke off. "Let's see if you can last longer than last time", he giggled. He started sliding slowly down my body, kissing me all over as he went, lingering at each of my erect nipples. He bit them gently, making me gasp and moan. I stroked his damp hair as he journeyed further down, stopping to dart his tounge into my navel. When he got to my crotch, Zach nudged my iron-hard cock aside as he licked my pubic hair. Without any warning, he sucked one of my balls into his mouth and started rolling it around. He repeated the process with the other. I felt like I would explode, but I wanted to make this last. I started trying to think of anything but what the blond boy was doing to me. I realised that Zach's gum was still in my mouth; I started chewing it, trying to concentrate all my thoughts on that. This worked until Zach turned his attentions to my tortured manhood. As he slowly ran the tip of his tounge up the underside of my shaft, I almost screamed in pleasure. He seemed to sense my condition, and stopped briefly while I calmed down a bit. When my breathing slowed somewhat, he grasped my cock and slowly sucked it in. I moaned as he slowly bobbed up and down on me. He started using his tounge, moving in unpredictable patterns. I started petting his beautiful blond head again. Zach gradually picked up the pace, bringing more moans from me. He was trying to force more of me into his mouth, but I didn't think he could take my whole 7 inches. No sooner did I think this, then he proved me wrong. I felt him relax, and suddenly my entire manhood disappeared. I could feel the head enter his throat. Zach repeated this remarkable feat several times. This was more than I could take, I was ready to go. I knew the boy had swallowed my load last time, but I didn't think he had planned to. This time, I could at least warn him. "God, Zach, this is fucking incredible, but I'm gonna come real soon." He responded by taking me all the way down and staying there; that pushed me over the edge totally. "Ok, kid, you've been warned. Aaauuuugh. Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh." I fired away, and kept firing. I figured I was coming directly down his throat. As I started to slow down, Zach started backing away, keeping the suction up until my dick was limp. He let it go and looked up at me. There was come and saliva all over his lips and chin. As I basked in the afterglow of my orgasm, he smiled at me, thoroughly pleased with himself. "How'd you like that, you old fart", he grinned. "I can't believe you, Zach. How'd you learn to do that?" "On the job training, what else?", he quipped, collapsing in a fit of giggling. "Very funny, smart guy. By the way, I hope you don't want your gum back, 'cause you made me swallow it!" Zach was convulsed with laughter at that. When he finally caught his breath, he declared, "Ok, my turn!" He stretched out his firm body, putting his hands behind his head as I moved to my task. I started out by massaging his chest, feeling each rib faintly outlined through the tanned skin (I noticed the tan was beginning to fade; Zach was going to be a lot whiter by spring). I worried his already-erect nipples. Just then, he looked up, pleading in his eyes. The message was clear; hurry up and finish the job. Those eyes were impossible to deny. Without further delay, I moved down to his rock-hard boyhood. As Zach had done to me, I slowly ran my tounge up the sensitive underside. He thrust his hips up, forcing his boner into my face. I ran my tounge around the head, causing the boy to wimper with desire. For a while, I just kissed and licked the lovely boy-cock. I would have continued the sensual torture for hours, but Zach begged, "C'mon, suck it, please". I complied, slowly drawing his prick into my mouth. I began the familiar up and down rythmn, running my tounge around as much as possible. Zach was totally spastic, thusting his hips and groaning almost continuously. His sweet pre-cum was flowing freely. My next move took Zack by suprise. I backed off until only the tip of his glistening cock remained in my mouth, then I lunged downward. Relaxing my throat, I managed to take the whole thing at once. Zach gasped as his cock twitched powerfully in my mouth. He let out a wild yelp, thrust his hips up desperately and started flooding my mouth with his cream. As his pulsing meat fired away, he clutched at my hair and gasped through clenched teeth. As his orgasm subsided, Zach relaxed, panting. I cleaned his softening organ and let it flop out. The powerful orgasm had left him spent. I stretched out next to my boy, smiling contentedly. "So, who lasted longer that time, huh?", I asked tauntingly. He looked at me in wonderment. "Jeez, where did YOU learn to do that?" "Oh, I think you know where. Remember, no good deed goes unpunished." I grinned, then leaned over and kissed him gently. "Good night, Zach." "Good night, Tim." (End Part One)