Date: Wed, 06 Dec 2023 12:26:55 +0000 From: jacklynch945 Subject: The Prince The Pauper And the Chief Chapter 37 Can you imagine life without Nifty? Please show your support with contributions to keep the Archive online. You can find out how at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html This story includes episodes involving underage minors having sex with adults. I expressly condemn this kind of activity. I have made every attempt to present these acts in a thoughtful, sensitive manner. You may not agree. If so, I encourage to avoid reading it. This story mentions real people, real places, and real events, but the characters and the story are entirely fictional. It contains descriptions of sexual interactions between minors and adult men. Your feedback, whether in the form of comments or constructive criticism, will always be welcome. Please email me: jacklynch945@proton.me. The Prince. The Pauper. And the Chief. By Jack Lynch Chapter 37. Dizzy and Nauseous. "You really are a lovely looking boy," Pip Torrance said. As uncomfortable as he felt, Prince rocked back and forth on his heels. He couldn't help but smile, the dimple appearing on his right cheek. He swept the messy blond hair out of his eyes. Less than an hour ago, Larry had swung by Edgartown Paper Store and picked him up. At Harvey's behest, he had brought The Prince to the Granary Gallery on Old County Road to meet Pip. Pleasant surroundings, an old barn complete with beamed ceilings, wood plank floors, and whitewashed fir and cedar shingle covered walls. Rich, colorful acrylic and oil paintings in ornate frames filled the walls. Just yesterday, Harvey had received a call. "So, Harvey," Pip chuckled. "I've heard about the spectacular success of your new work. What's it called, `One Sexual Expression?'" "No, that's not what it's called," Harvey responded in a low voice. He went on to tell him what the pencil and watercolor drawings were about, not sparing any obscene detail about what they depicted. "Not for a Vineyard crowd, I suspect," he chuckled lightly. But, amidst the sexually charged work, there were some that could be construed as appropriate for a wider audience. One, in particular, of just the boy's head and bare shoulders. A couple of others with Kip modeling a pair of Bermuda shorts. Or, was it Prince? Another, when he wore that mesh t-shirt. You couldn't really tell he was naked below the waist. All in Harvey's signature style. Details that faded away, shapes that were barely visible, leaving much of it to the imagination. Washed in pastel water color. "Bring them over and let's take a lookee loo." "Oh, and bring the boy," Pip added at the end of the phone call. After Harvey showed him the work, Pip decided to take them all. The prices he came up with were unbelievable. $450 to $600 apiece! Larry roamed around, looking at the colorful oils and acrylics lining the walls. He was still trying to process all that had happened. As soon as Phil had gotten back to the house from the police station, a greasy looking guy and an old fat man appeared at the door. Phil just tossed him the keys to the truck and left with the two men. As Prince stood there in his t-shirt, shorts, and sandals, Pip looked at him with a toothy smile as he alternately glanced at the art. Harvey chuckled. At the bottom of the stack, he had added a couple of the more risqué pieces. Licking his lips, Pip said, "I'd really like to see the others sometime." "We might be able to arrange that," Harvey replied, his eyes narrowing. *** "Drop me at the pier." Larry and Prince had just left the Granery Gallery in Phil's pickup. "Awww...Kippy. Let's go home for awhile. I'm suddenly in the mood." Larry turned to Prince, an evil grin on his face. "Larry? Will you do me a favor?" "Sure, you sexy little thing. What do you want?" "I want you to fuck off!" Larry grunted. In an instant, his fist shot out, hitting Prince so hard his head went right into the truck's door frame. It felt like his brain had come loose from his skull. No more was said. Prince tried to refocus his eyes and get the throbbing inside his head under control. When they reached Vineyard Haven, he thought about jumping out as the truck slowed in traffic. Larry seemed to be distracted, lost in thought. "Get outta my sight," he said blankly. Prince got out and headed away, toward the ferry. "You ok?" Fergie stared down at Kip. He looked sort of dazed. There was a bright red mark on the side of his head. Prince jerked the messy hair out of his eyes, looking up at Fergie as he took the ice chest and pretzels from him, squinting into the sun to try to see him more clearly. He just nodded. Trudging along the side of the asphalt parking lot, Prince set up just as the next ferry tooted its horn signaling its arrival. "Cold sodas. Hot pretzels," he mumbled. Robotically, he dispensed drinks and pretzels as the throngs passed by. Deep in thought. What if I just got on the ferry and left, he asked himself? He looked out into the distance oblivious to the hubbub of arriving and departing passengers swirling around him. How would he get home once he crossed over to Woods Hole? Maybe take a cab? How much would that cost? First, he had to get back to the house and dig his money out from under Kip's mattress. Just call home and have Sarah or Isaac pick him up. But what if his mom answered the phone? What if Kip was right there with them? How would he explain? For most of the afternoon, Prince was rooted to the spot, basically playing every possible scenario over and over in his head. Toward the end of the afternoon, a voice in his head appeared. Not any voice. His own voice. "Wait for me! I'm coming!" *** Mike couldn't help but smile to himself as he threw clothes into their robin's egg blue Samsonite Silhouette suitcase. This had been a fun trip. He had basked in all of the attention. He loved getting it from Larry, Winkie, that cop, the Black kid, and, of course, from Charles. He always liked the looks he got, especially when he was naked. The trips to two nude beaches convinced him that publicly displaying himself was thrilling and satisfying. It wasn't just the attention he got from the guys, it was strangers, both men and women, other boys, even some girls, stealing glances at him. He made it a point to stand up straight, his legs slightly spread, turning this way and that so people could enjoy every inch of him. Languishing in bed earlier this morning, his arms behind his head, he groaned softly, Winkie kissing the insides of his thighs as he headed north to his balls and thickening cock. Nearby, Roger sat in a chair watching as he stroked his own dick. Before Charles left the Island, he had smothered him in kisses. He let out a cute giggle as Charles kissed around the back of his neck, holding his hand. Naturally, Mike drew Charles's hand between his legs, offering himself up. "No, no," Charles whispered. "Don't get me started." Mike sighed. Although vague, there was some chatter about bringing him out to LA. He had no clue if he could act, but the idea of being on a television show or in a movie sounded really exciting. Even a porno. Mike wouldn't mind. In fact, he could really get into that. Just then, Roger burst into their cabin. "Take a look at this!" In a nearby cabin, Winkie threw the last of his shirts into his suitcase. Time to go home. He'd thought about staying another week but Calvin was full, the last couple of weeks of the season, booked with guests who came back year after year. It was too bad Roger and Mike had to get back to Michigan. But, Mike was starting school soon. Otherwise, he would have gladly invited them to Greenwich. What a romp they could have had, all over the house. Maybe he could have even gotten Prince to spend some intimate time with his little group. Prince. The vision of that cute little brat still gave him a little tingle between his legs. It was rather unfortunate that he'd somehow hooked up with that Black kid. Winkie frowned. He wasn't sure if he should feel jealous or not. If worse came to worse, maybe he could finagle getting Quash to come to Connecticut. He'd love to watch sometime. It would be special to see that big black cock get stuffed into The Prince's asshole. Winkie snapped his aluminum Halliburton shut, grabbed his soft sided valise, and ambled out the door of his cabin. He'd called for a cab to take him to the airport a few minutes earlier. The boys, Roger and Mike, were going to take the ferry over to the Cape. He turned the corner on the path, expecting to see a Jon's Taxi waiting. It was there, but so were Mike and Roger. They were holding hands, jumping up and down, and dancing in a circle. Out of breath, Mike ran up to Winkie and grabbed him by the shoulders. "I'm gonna be famous, Winkie! Famous!" When they finally stopped whooping it up, Roger thrust a piece of paper into Winkie's hand. A Western Union telegram. "Audition secured for Mike. *Stop.* Jimmy Bidgood wants him for new film. *Stop.* Proceed at once to Logan. *Stop.* Tickets at TWA counter. *Stop.* Regards, Charles. Winkie clapped Mike on the back, shook Roger's hand, joining in the general reverie. All the while, he was searching his memory banks. Bidgood. That name sounded so familiar. Then it dawned on him. Two of the videotapes he kept in the back of a drawer next to the TV. X-rated, all male. Directed by a guy named James Bidgood. "Jeez!" He smiled. "What an opportunity!" *** Prince groaned. Just after handing over the empty cooler to Fergie, he suddenly realized Kip's bike was still parked by the Edgartown Paper Store. A few minutes later, after one hitch, he was at Lyme Street. Feeling starved, still dizzy, he made his way to the house. Thankfully, Larry was nowhere to be found. Prince made himself a cheese sandwich, washing it down with a glass of milk. Back on Temahigan Ave. he held his arm out looking for another hitch. Fortunately, the White family happened by, on their way to dinner at the Edgartown Yacht Club. Prince sat in the back seat next to Ross and his little sister. "Wha-cha been up to this summer, Kincaid?" Ross asked. "Nothin,'" Prince replied. "Just work. You?" "Same. Well, I'm not working," Ross smirked. "Hey, I met someone who asked about you." "Yeah? Who's that?" "A guy I met. His name's Prince. At least, that's his last name." Prince looked at Ross. "So?" Ross chuckled, "So...I dunno." He looked back at Prince for a moment. Suddenly, his eyebrows shot up. Oh no! Busted? Instead, Ross said, "Hey, Kip. Ya ever wanna go swimming or something? You know, over at Seth Pond." This was getting weird, Prince thought. "We can check out the woods on the far side of the pond," Ross said. Just then, his knee bumped into the side of Prince's leg. "Never been over there," Prince replied. He felt himself starting to get red in the face so he looked out the car window. The car slowed in traffic as they wound their way through the center of Oak Bluffs. "Kip, I saw your dad's name in the paper today," Ross's dad said as he looked back at him through the rear view mirror. "My dad?!" Prince was confused. He was thinking of his own dad. "Phil isn't Kip's father, he's his step-father, Peter," Ross's mother admonished. "Why was he in the paper?" "The captain of his boat got killed. They think it was murder. I guess your, ah, Phil was somehow involved." Prince's mouth fell open. He didn't know what to think other than he felt afraid and even more confused. He looked down, suddenly aware that Ross had placed his hand on the top of his thigh. With a hazy smile on his face, he slowly let it creep between his legs and up toward his crotch. "Cut it out!" Prince whispered hoarsely. He glanced over at Ross's sister who was watching, a look of disgust on her face. They dropped him off after they stopped at the Yacht Club, handing their car over to one of the valets. It was just a block from the Edgartown Paper Store. As Prince approached his bike, a wave of dizziness mixed with nausea overcame him. No way was he going to be able to ride his bike back to Oak Bluffs. He staggered along the crowded sidewalk in the direction of his own house, looking something like a drunken sailor. They kept an extra key hidden behind one of the sconces. Prince used it to open the front door, the empty house echoing with his footsteps. Climbing quickly to the second floor, he pulled the covers back on his bed, collapsed on his tummy, and fell fast asleep.