Date: Fri, 27 Nov 2009 15:03:24 -0800 (PST) From: William Rush Subject: This Love Lost in My Heart Part III Alternate/Correct Ending This Love Lost in My Heart Part III Alternate CORRECT Ending by William Rush Disclaimer The content and opinions expressed in this story are not necessarily the personal view of the story's author and not necessarily those of anyone responsible for this archive or website. This story contains depictions of sexually explicit erotic acts. In some cases these acts may be of a homosexual nature, if this is illegal where you are at, please stop reading now. This story depicts simulated sexual acts between adults and minors. If this type of material is offensive to you, then stop reading now. By reading further you declare or affirm that you are not a minor or in the company of a minor and are entitled to read this material, furthermore you declare that you will not hold the author and the archive or website publishing this story liable for any damages incurred from reading this story. The author grants permission for this work and all his other works to be reposted on any site as long as the site does not charge for membership and as long as it is legal to post the story on that site and that there is no illegal intent when posting the story. If a site charges membership, permission must be granted prior to allowing the story to be published. The author retains all rights to the story and permission to publish this story does not alter or transfer those rights. I also want to make my normal speech now. This is a work of fiction and as such, should be treated as that. I do not endorse anything that happens in this story, nor do I encourage anyone to participate in any activities like this. This is fantasy. If you feel that you are in danger of molesting or harming a child, then you should seek immediate psychiatric help. Remember in most countries there's nothing illegal about having those thought, but if you act on them that's an entirely different matter. Any similarities to real people or places, is completely coincidental. Also I feel it's important to point out that, although I am writing this story in the first person, I am not this man. This man's life is the creation of free expression, not of reality. With that said, I hope you enjoy the story. Introduction Hello. I wanted to take this time to apologize for my initial installment of Part III. I have received so much feedback about this story, that I felt this need to get the third installment out and ended up submitting a rather awful ending. I love this story, I think it's my best work to date and I can't leave it like that, whether I want to or not. I guess I need to start finding an editor, so these kinds of things don't happen in the future. In the meantime, I sincerely hope people get a chance to read this new ending. The beginning of part III is the same, I added hash marks so you know where the new part begins. Again, sorry for the lack of vision and grandiose ending, I hope this one lives up to the story. I would love to hear your opinion about the new ending, so please feel free to contact me at greenphone69(at)Yahoo(dot)com. Part III I watched Ricky squirm around in front of the television, laying down on his side, his bottom sore. The boy was obviously suffering, but he said nothing. I felt this wave of guilt wash over me, realizing that I pushed the boy further than he wanted to go. I wondered what he'd have to say about this day if I met him on the streets in ten years. He looked over at me every once in awhile, then back at the television, I'm sure he was worried I'd want to do it again and I did, but there was no way I'd fuck him so soon after his first time. I was thankful there was no blood, at least I hadn't damaged his body. I poured a glass of whiskey and sat down at the kitchen table, trying hard not to think about the sordid act I'd committed. Ricky's mom had been in rehab for a week now. Phil said that she'd been doing well. She'd be out of inpatient in five weeks, then move to outpatient. I wondered how many times I could convince Ricky to fuck me before he went home, then hated myself for thinking about him like that. I loved the kid, I couldn't deny it, not a simple fondness for a boy in trouble, but actual love. I felt myself breaking down inside, all these feelings that I had pushed aside for years came back like a flood, washing over the landscape of my memories, clearing away all the debris and forcing me to remember things I never wanted to. When I was fourteen I was picked up by some guy who said he was having a party. He offered me five hundred dollars to come and help entertain the guests, problem was, I was the only one entertaining them. I can't remember how many guys were there, all I can remember is the groping hands and the brutality of it all. When it was done they dumped me on a street corner. My jeans were soaked in blood and I could barely walk, I was so sore, a cop spotted me and I tried to run away, but he caught me and I ended up in the emergency room. I was in the hospital for a week. The doctors kept asking me if I was gay. A therapist came in, but I didn't want to talk to her, I was too ashamed about what had happened, I just wanted to forget everything about that night and once I got out I did. I hadn't thought about it in a long time. I knew it would hurt, why did I make Ricky do that if I knew it hurt? 'He'd like it eventually,' I told myself, 'just like I did.' I enjoyed it before that party, at least I liked doing it with the guys who were gentle, but after that night it all changed, I never let anyone fuck me again after that. I guess I should be happy he's only taking mine up there, if I hadn't found him maybe he'd have had to go through that too, or maybe I'm just making excuses, either way, I don't want to hurt the kid. "Why are you drinking," Ricky asked, I could tell he was worried. "It's just one," I said, "I just need something to calm my nerves." "Why are you nervous," he asked. "I'm sorry buddy," I said, feeling the tears welling up in my eyes. "I shouldn't have done that to you." "It's okay," he said, "I like you, I wanted to do it." "No," I said, "you didn't want to do it. I know that." "I did," he said, "I wanted to make you happy." "You already made me happy," I said. "We didn't need to do that." "I'm okay," he said, as he came over next to me. "It doesn't hurt that bad." I pulled him down so he was sitting on my lap and looked at him, without thinking I kissed him on his forehead. He smiled and leaned back against me. "We don't have to do that anymore," I said, "I love you and I'll never leave you, okay?" He nodded and leaned up and kissed me on the cheek. I ran my hands through his hair, looking into his green eyes, trying to see how much pain there was inside of him, but instead I saw sadness, not for what had happened to him, but what he thought he'd done to me. "It's not you buddy," I said, knowing that he had no idea why I was sad. "Its just things happen in your life and when you remember that it happened, it hurts." "I'm sorry someone hurt you," he said, wrapping his arms around me. "I know buddy," I said, holding him close and rocking him back and forth in my arms. We sat there quietly holding each other, then he turned to me and asked, "do you really love me?" I realized it was the first time I'd told him I'd loved him, I tried to say it again but couldn't, all I could do was nod. "I love you too," he said. "You're my best friend in the whole world." I smiled and said, "I know." Two weeks later Ricky was bent over the side of the bed, moaning as I slowly pushed inside of his bottom. I loved watching my dick slide in and out his ass, and he seemed to love having it in there. It was still painful when I first entered him, but I learned if I gave him some time to adjust he opened right up and we could both enjoy it. "I'm going to cum," he said, his little hand stroking his cock like mad. He cried out when his orgasm hit him and it sent me over the edge, I thrust inside of him roughly, causing him to grunt as my cum shot out and coated his intestines. I could feel the walls of his bottom spasm around my cock, as his little fist coaxed the last of his own orgasm from his body. I watched him as he walked, slightly bowlegged, to the toilet and sat down. He watched me as I cleaned my cock off with a towel. Afterwards we lay down on my bed and watched cartoons. He loved to snuggle up next to me. As he leaned against me, he rubbed his hand on my stomach and looked at my cock, I'm sure wondering if he could get it stiff without touching it. His mother would get out of rehab in three weeks. She was doing great and she'd asked to see Ricky, but Ricky didn't want to see her yet. She didn't force the issue, which to me was a good sign. I wanted Ricky to go home, even if it meant losing him. He needed to be with his mother, to have a normal child's life and that was something I couldn't give him. ((--------------------------- Alternate Ending ------------------------------------)) Claustrophobia was setting in on Ricky. He constantly looked out the window, wanting to do something. The weekends at the beach could only do so much for him, so I took him downtown and we went shopping. I bought him a pair of shoes and we got some hot dogs. He took his hot dog out of the bun and started to slide it in and out his mouth, I slapped him upside the head before anyone could see and he gave me this dirty look. "Don't do that," I said. "You didn't have to hit me," he said rubbing the back of his head. "I'm sorry," I said, "but you can't do that. You could get me in a lot of trouble." He rolled his eyes, something I was beginning to find annoying, and we continued our little walk. We stopped by the arcade and Ricky went inside to play some games. I watched little boys come and go as they entered the arcade, surprised at how many didn't have parents with them. One particular boy caught my attention, a tow headed angel with long blonde hair and a nice little tan dressed in his karate uniform. I don't know if it was the uniform or the boy that got me horny, but it definitely had an effect. Ricky came out and plopped down on the bench beside me and said, "I ran out of quarters." "You want to catch a movie," I asked. He nodded and we headed to the theater. I would've liked to have seen a drama, but Ricky had his heart set on some new animated family movie. I sat through it and listened to him laugh. He put his hand on my arm and looked at me and smiled. I smiled back. As we walked back home he quoted lines from the movie and I would laugh. Once we got back we settled down in my bedroom and watched some television. He wasn't really into the show I was watching, so I turned the channel 'til we found a documentary about lions. Apparently Ricky loved lions, something I was not aware of, it just reminded me that there was a lot about this boy I didn't know. As I felt his body next to mine, I couldn't help but be reminded that soon he would be gone and I wondered what I would do then? I looked at him and I already started to miss him, not because I wouldn't have access to his little body, but because I wouldn't be able to hear him talk about robots and video games. I marveled at his ability to get excited over the smallest thing. That night I fucked him in his favorite position, his knees pulled back to his chest, his bottom resting on a pillow. The first few times we tried the position we didn't use the the pillow, one day, I slid one under him, to make it easier to enter him and I found out that when I fucked him like that, I slid across prostate almost constantly. The third time we tried it in that position, he had his first and only anal orgasm, his dick spasming and jerking without him ever having to touch it. I could hear by his whimpers that he was close, my cock stretched his hole taught as I slid inside of him with long slow deliberate thrusts. He moaned, his eyes closed, his knee resting on the side of his head, his little chest heaving up and down as he came closer and closer to his own peak of joy. He didn't like me jerking him off when we fucked, I don't know why, but he would eventually move my hand away and take over. I teased him now and again, reminding him that I made it feel better when I did it, but he would just stick his tongue out and smile. "Harder," he said, pushing his bottom off the bed. I could tell he was getting close, his face took on this serious expression. I watched him, excited to see the effect my cock was having on his body, the past guilt of sodomizing the boy had long since diminished, now that he seemed to like the act every bit as much as I did. Nearly every time we had sex he wanted me to fuck him, but I worried it might stretch his hole out and cause him problems, so I kept it down to a couple of times a week, with the odd one thrown in when I couldn't resist the urge. Right now I enjoyed how tight the little guy was, his bottom clinging to my cock, I felt every inch of his insides as I slid in and out, and I'm sure he felt every inch of me. He hissed now and again when I thrust in at an uncomfortable angle, but he never asked me to stop. I got the feeling he liked the occasional pain, I know I did when I was his age. I used to have a regular john named Dominic, he was a black guy that I guess had a fetish for little twelve year old white kids. He wasn't hung like a horse mind you, only about seven inches long, but he loved to make me come while he was fucking me. He made it into an art form. He would slide into me and just go nice and slow, pushing in and out, watching my body, running his hands over my chest and stomach. He never touched my dick though and he wouldn't let me touch it either, not until he was sure I'd gotten primed. Once my little four inch dick was hard and sticking up like a nail, he'd start to speed up and stroke me, trying to coax an orgasm out of me. He'd fuck me for an hour like that. It was torture sometimes, as he sped up and slowed down, bringing me to the brink, only to stop and squeeze my little penis hard, sending the pleasure back down, then starting all over again. After the bust I lost contact with him and since the city is a big place, I was never able to find him, but man was he a great boy fucker. I feel guilty sometimes that I enjoyed it. I was just a pre-teen hustler and he was my trick, but for some reason, it felt like more than that. I missed Dominic and the memory of him fucking me was getting me turned on. I sometimes wondered what it would be like to be with a guy, to maybe have another go at it. There are so many bad memories, that I keep forgetting the good ones, it's like a grain of pepper in a salt shaker, you keep shaking and seeing all this salt fall out, you don't notice the speck of pepper coming out with it. Ricky was whining, tugging on his little prick, I knew he was close and I reached down and grabbed his wrist to stop him. He had this desperate look in his eyes, wanting to come so bad, but I didn't want him to, not just yet. I held still in his bottom, occasionally flexing my dick inside of him, when I was sure that his urgency had passed, I started to fuck him again, quick and fast. I saw the flicker of lust in his eyes, how his mouth would part and his tongue would come out to wet his little pink lips. I felt a sudden urge well up inside of me, so I reached down and for the first time, I kissed him. He was shocked and struggled at first, surprised to feel my tongue push into his mouth, but after a moment he got the idea and I felt his own tiny tongue fight back. I could tell he wasn't sure what to make of this new act, but the feelings in his body were outweighing the strange intrusion. I pulled my mouth away from his and said, "I love you buddy." "I love you too," he said, smiling, his arms wrapped around my neck. I thrust into him, pulling nearly all the way out and then pushing back in, causing him to gasp. I covered his mouth once more with mine and we continued to kiss. I could feel his arms tighten around my neck as he grew accustomed to my tongue probing his mouth. I could taste bubble gum and I had to laugh. He laughed too. It all became to much and I sped up my thrusts, driving into him in quick rapid thrusts, trying as hard as I could to push every inch of my cock inside of his little body. I felt the first tingles of my orgasm rise up from inside, welling up like a balloon ready to burst, then it was there. My cock lurched and surged inside of him, causing him to cry out as he felt my cum shoot out in thick gobs and fill his inside, he tried to reach his little cock, to tug on it, frightened he'd miss his chance to come as well, but he couldn't. As my dick softened inside of him, he looked at me, pouting, upset he hadn't finished with me, but I had other ideas. I pulled out of him, but kept his legs on his chest, I moved down to take his stiff rod in my mouth, sucking it as I pushed two fingers inside of his ass, I found his little prostate and started to run my fingers across it, causing him to whimper and squirm under my assault. I slurped on his stiff little rod, licking my tongue up and down the length, continuing to thrust my fingers inside of him, massaging his prostate. Finally he cried out and I felt his dick jerk inside of my mouth sending a little spurt of his clear boy juice to the roof of my mouth. I kept sucking him 'til he was done. He looked at me, surprised by the intensity of it all. "Did you like that," I asked. "Yeah," he said, "but why did you kiss me?" "Because I love you," I said, smiling at him. Ricky was a strange kid sometimes. After that he would kiss me, but only when we had sex, outside of sex, it was only a peck on the cheek, or on a rare occasion, my lips. He enjoyed it, but he couldn't separate it from sex. That was fine with me, I didn't want the kid thinking it was something you just did, I was happy that he knew it was a part of the passion we shared. As the time for his mother's release grew near, Ricky's attitude started to change. He began to throw tantrums at the slightest things. He didn't want to be touched at all and sex seemed to be out of the question. In my constant paranoia, I began to worry that he was starting to feel ashamed about all the things he had done with me, but as usual that wasn't the case. One night, before bed, as I sat beside him talking, he reached up and held my hand. "Will you still love me when I'm gone," Ricky asked. I looked at him, shocked that he even had to ask that question, and simply said, "of course I will, why would you think something like that?" "Because I'm leaving you," he said. "Doesn't that make you mad?" "No," I said, "it doesn't make me mad. I want you to be where you need to be." "Don't you want me to stay with you," he asked. "More than anything in the world," I said, "but this isn't where you're supposed to be." "I don't want to leave you," he said. "Yes you do," I said, "you want to be with your mom. I want you to be with your mom." "But I don't want you to be lonely," he said. "I wont be lonely," I said, looking at his messed up hair and bright green eyes, then added "well maybe a little bit, but I'll still see you buddy." "What if my mom doesn't let you see me," he said. "There's no point in worrying about that 'til it happens," I said. "Get to sleep buddy. You're tired, we can talk about this in the morning." He pulled the covers tight against his chest and his eyes fluttered. I leaned down and kissed him on the forehead, smoothing his hair out. I left him and went in my room and sat down on my bed. I could feel the tears well up in my eyes, and I looked at the door, wishing there was some way I could keep him forever. I tried to get to sleep, but I couldn't help but think of Ricky. At one point I got up and went out in the living room and watched him sleep. He seemed so at peace, his small chest rising and falling, his hands cradled under his cheek. I loved that boy, as much I could ever love anyone. I wanted so much to pack up everything and leave, to take him to Las Vegas, or maybe Seattle, someplace where no one could find us, but I knew I couldn't. I knew what was best for Ricky, and I think he did too. After that we talked about him leaving often. I made sure that he knew I wasn't upset or angry, that I would still love him and that I wanted the boy to be with his mom. He was sad, I could tell, caught between his feelings of abandoning me and the hope that he would have his old mom back, the one he knew before she started to do drugs, the one that would tuck him in to bed at night and take him to the park to play on the swings. He wanted what every boy wanted, to be accepted and loved, and he deserved that. I could give him acceptance and love, but I knew he needed his mother's love more than anything else. I knew that the only thing that could cure the scars that covered his heart was the being with his mother. I worried that she might relapse and that he might end up on the streets again, and at other times I hoped she would relapse. A week before Ricky's mom got out, he called her at the facility she was at. They spoke on the phone. Ricky talked to her in the bedroom, when he was done he came out and he was crying. "What's the matter buddy," I asked. "Nothing," he said, wiping the tears from his eyes with his hands. "You can tell me," I said. "I miss my mom," he said. "I know buddy," I said, "you'll see her soon." He nodded his head and sat on my lap, wrapping his arms around my neck. I put my arm around his waist and gave him a quich hug. He relaxed and rested his head against my shoulder. "Did you get to talk about much," I asked. He simply nodded, not willing to divulge any more of the conversation. I was okay with that, I didn't want to intrude or make him feel like I didn't accept his decision. The night before he went home. He lay next to me in bed. He stroked my penis up and down in his small hand and looked at it. "I'll miss you little Luke," he said. I smiled, not realizing he had named my penis. I watched him as he crawled towards my crotch and planted a kiss on the tip of my cock. I felt his tongue roll around the head, lavishing it with tender flicks. I pulled him on top of me and reached up to take his cock in my mouth. He groaned and set to work sliding my cock as far as he could into his mouth. Ricky wasn't a natural with oral sex, I guess some people just aren't born that way, but what he lacked in that department, he made up for in passion, his ability to enjoy the act, to want to give pleasure as much as he received it, was so much more enticing. I pulled him off of me and rolled him in to a ball. He smiled up at me, and then it was gone as he grimaced, accepting my length inside of him. We made love for what seemed like hours. I know you might think it's impossible for a man and a boy to make love, but it isn't. The Greeks believed there were many forms of love, that there was no one description that could contain the wellspring of emotions one felt for another. I knew that was true, my love for Ricky was more than just that of eros, more than just passion, it was one that sprung from deep inside of me, a love that even I couldn't define. All those years ago, when I met my first boy, the first boy that loved me, it was different. I loved Brian, but it wasn't the kind of love I held for Ricky, it was a love for his body, the sounds Brian made when we had sex. With Brian that's what it was, sex. Ricky was different, the love that I felt for him, I could never define, or put in to words. That last night was nothing spectacular, we prolonged it because it would be our last time. When I rolled off Ricky, we tried to talk for awhile, but there was only silence, neither of us knowing what to talk about. Finally I got up and finished packing his things. We ate ice cream and watched television. He sat next to me and I knew this would be our last night together. As I stood at the door to Ricky's old apartment, my hand on his shoulder, it took all my courage to knock. The door opened and I saw her, for the first time. She wasn't what I expected. She was younger than me, and she had long brown hair, the same color as Ricky's, in fact I saw where Ricky got his looks from. She looked at me for just a second, then she saw Ricky and she broke out in a smile and reached for her son. "Ricky," she said, pulling her son towards her, hugging him tightly. "I missed you so much." "I missed you too," Ricky said, looking up at his mother. We sat at the kitchen table, just me and her. She looked me over, as if she was trying to decide what to do with me. I squirmed, uncomfortable, not knowing what to say or do. "Why did you do it," she asked. "Do what," I asked. "Take him in," she said. "You could've taken him to the cops, why did you keep him?" "I don't know," I said, "I really don't know." She looked at me, not satisfied with the answer, worry on her face. I could tell she knew what happened, or at least had considered it, who wouldn't have. "Phil said he was happy with you," she said. "That he wanted to stay with you." "I wanted him to stay," I said, looking at Ricky sorting through his things. She paused, not able to say anything, tears forming in her eyes, "I know you did things." "I know," I said, "I'm sorry." "I'm not going to call the cops," she said, "but you can't do them anymore." "I know," I said, not able to look at her. "I think it would be best if you don't see him anymore," she said, stirring her coffee. "I understand," I said, my throat tightening. "If I didn't think they'd take him away, I'd have you arrested," she said, looking at me, rage in her eyes. "If you come back I will." "I wont come back," I said, looking at Ricky as he came walking towards us. "I just want him to be happy." When I got back to my apartment I stared out the window and took out the picture I had of me as a little boy. I thought back to that first night on the streets, how I was so frightened, I couldn't sleep. I hid in an alleyway under a streetlight and cried. Some homeless guy found me and took me to a diner and bought me something to eat. "Kid," he said, "You're not going to last out here if you keep doing this shit." "What do you mean," I said, "I haven't done nothing wrong." "You know," he said, "You're lucky it was me that found you and not someone else." "I can take care of myself," I said, not able to look at him. "Sure you can," he said shaking his head. "You need to go home kid." "I can't," I said. "Then at least go to the cops," he said. "They'll get you a home." "I don't need a home," I said, "I can take care of myself." The man looked at me and handed me ten dollars, then got up and started to walk away, then stopped. "My names Carl," he said. "I stay down at the 5th avenue bridge. If you need anything, come down there okay?" "Alright," I said. "I can't give you anymore money," he said, "so don't spend that on candy or booze." "I wont," I said. "Good," he said and walked away.