Our hope is that every homosexual youth in this country can find a home
and someone to love them as they are. Does your mother know you're reading this shit?
Warning: This story is PORNO. I have tried my hand at friction, now I'm trying fiction. This story contains vivid descriptions of sexual activity between men and teen boys. If you are underage, or if this is illegal where you are, then please go away. If you're under 18, Adios come back when it is legal for you to read this smut. A strongly worded suggestion has resulted in this statement. Thus said, this story is copyrighted, ©2005-2012. It is therefore illegal to copy or use any part of this story on any other web site without my written permission.
No one deserves to be discriminated against, no matter what their differences from society's norm.
A tidy quote from chapter 137
"titles belong on books, not people" ©Carl Dickson—2007
It contains no truth, partial truth, or half truth. What it does contain is stroking material. If this kind of story turns you off, or offends you, please find something else.
The author does not encourage or condone sex between adults and underage children.
If you lied about your age in order to access this story, remember this is our story. Life doesn't always work out like a story.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either
are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitioiusly,
and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
You may download the CHEROKEE TONT for free at this link. Dowload it, install it, then enjoy seeing the TSAIAGI names in this story. This font is included in the full version Send an e-mail for it.
What a way to awaken, Steve was fully impaled on my morning wood, he was stretched out on top of me softly snoring as his drool ran down the side of my neck. I had no idea for how long we had been in our union, but I was within a split second of firing both cannon balls deep in his tight rectum. I began to hump into him slowly increasing my speed as my orgasm moved through me.
Steve opened his eyes and smiled at me then he began to hump back at me. I felt his rectal canal tighten and spasm as a warmth spread across my belly, that did it for me. I drove my cock deep up into the boy and let him have it, all of it. He was into another massive orgasm of his own that squeezed my already tortured cock pencil thin. At last he fell against me and sighed.
"Don't you never tell me mates about this."
"Why, are you ashamed of me, or are you ashamed of yourself? Steve, you have to face this right here and now, if you are ashamed of what we have done then we need to get cleaned up and pretend it never happened."
"But it did happen, Chris. I ain't ashamed of it, I wanted it, I want it, I want us to do it again. I have no regrets about anything we did or what we did in Cullen's room. I am glad that Cullen and me did it."
"Steve, you said that I should never tell your mates, that means that you want this to remain a secret. If it is to remain a secret then you are ashamed, either of me or of doing it. You may be ashamed of yourself for having done it."
"No, I did it 'cause I wanted to and I ain't ashamed of any of it."
"Okay then. We won't rush out and tell everyone what we have done, that is nobody's business, but ours. At the same time I am not going to hide what we have done. I love you and I have loved being with you. You have worked through a lot of fears and inbred misconceptions of poofs to get to this point. You wanted to do this to the point that you told your best friend, Chris, about it. He brought you to me and you were not ashamed to let him talk to me about doing it. He is your friend and he knows that we would do this at some time.
"What do you think that Jason and Chris thought when you stayed here yesterday morning and didn't go home with the rest of them. They all knew that you were trying to work through your feelings. Now you have to work through your guilt. Either we did it and you are proud, or we did it and you feel bad about it. Which is it?"
"I'm proud. I just don't want people to think that I am a poof."
"Do you think that the other boys in your group are poofs? All of them do it, all of the time. I have done all of them and all of them come to me and want to do with me again and again. Even your friend, Chris. Is he a poof, do you think less of him now that you know that he likes to take it up the ass?"
"No, he is me mate and I do love him, more than I knew yesterday. I need to talk to him and tell him that I do care about him more than as just a friend."
"Listen to me, take it slow. That kind of news is like a fine wine, sip it slowly and let the feelings move through you. If you jump into something at this point you could get hurt and emotional hurts take a lot longer to heal than physical pain."
"What will Russell think? I have known him forever and when I found out that he was queer I had to think about it. He is still the same kid I have always known and I don't care about that stuff now, but I don't know if he will think the same way about me."
"Why wouldn't he. I think that I know that little guy's heart, he is very loving and accepting. Sure, he never believed that Chris would ever do this and he was certain that you never would. I would suggest that you not go telling him, or anyone else about it, but don't hide it and don't be ashamed of it.
"Now, I have to piss. Most of my boys like to have their lover piss in their ass each morning, it really moves the shit around." Steve laughed at that, but was willing to try it. I am long enough and he is small enough that I was able to keep us together as we made our way to the shower where I washed out his insides. I told him to let loose and wash his drying cum from our bellies, his warm water washed between us as our tongues savored the other's morning breath.
Steve is a very sensitive boy of fifteen years old. He has many preconceived ideas about life and people that only he can sort out in his own time. He is not old enough for the emotional ride that we had taken during the last twelve hours so I wanted to cement in his mind that he was okay. I took a long time under the hot water as I washed every micro centimeter of his soft skin.
I worked up such a thick lather of suds on his head that I could mold it in the shape of a snowman. I paid particular attention to those areas of his young anatomy that seemed to be upstanding and any cream that came of my work I mixed into the frothy foam on other body parts. By the time I let him come back to reality his cock was so wilted that I knew it would not arise for at least a half a minute or more.
I had him cleaned out and cleaned up then wrapped in a large towel as I carried him back to my bed where we met three other fresh faced boys with dreamy eyes. "Will you ever give me a shower like that? Cullen says that you do that to all of the boys in your house and I ain't never had nobody give me no shower before."
"Tad, you will receive all of the loving from me that you will accept. I will never force you or ask you to do anything that you do not want to do, but when we get to your new home I will introduce you to things that are only there to make you feel comfortable and relaxed"
"Agnes said that breakfast is ready, she has marmalade and pastries this morning. She said that you can have eggs, but you just had Steve's eggs." Cullen began to giggle in that little lilt of his that drives me to insanity.
"It is no business or yours whose eggs I have had or not had, nosy butt."
"I don't have my nose up your butt, but I will, come here." I reached for him, but he jumped up and ran for the door. This is the boy who will be King? He is all boy and that is his best trait.
The weather was cloudy with a light mist falling through the cold morning air. It was too cold to ride horses naked, horses just don't look good with a shirt and pants on; oh, these were girl horses, I don't even want to think of them in a dress. Cullen told us that it should warm up by lunch time, but the boys wanted to see the horses then, I told them that the horse would not be dressed. Cullen led us out of the door, but wanted to take the electric cart down to the stables, he was afraid that the old man might break a hip on the long walk. The other boys took the cart, Cullen ran, with me hot on his tail.
At the stables I looked toward the front gate and saw Timmy, I took the cart and went out there to pick him up. He was with Boswell and another youngster that had on an FIS wind breaker. I was introduced to Paddy's little dispatcher. Paddy was correct, the boy is a looker, well worth two looks, in fact.
Claude Boswell listened as Paddy had a nice dream on their way back to London the previous afternoon. Paddy was dreaming about Aaren Hedgepeth so after putting the old man to bed he went to the office to pick the youngster up. I had it figured correctly, again, the girl that picks Aaren up after work is his cousin, he has lived with her and her mother since he was orphaned at two years of age. Aaren does favor Paddy and so does Claude, it will be interesting to see how this one plays out.
Paddy had insisted that Aaren use the Bentley to bring Timmy up to the estate, he told Claude that he should catch a ride and save his train and taxi fare. Claude was glad to honor the man's request, he whispered to me that he thought Paddy wanted both him and Aaren to move in with him. I hope the old queen can keep it up with those two fine looking boys.
Cullen had called it, the weather broke and the sun burst through around ten, we saddled horses and rode along the surf until three. Agnes packed us up a large picnic and Cullen had large blankets rolled up and tied to the horse's saddles, just like in the movies. Timmy rode with us for a most enjoyable afternoon. The sea is much too cold to play in the water, but chasing naked boys along the wide beach has no such limitations.
I had put in a call to Harry and he joined us around six, he had spent the past few days with his mother and dad and was quite happy to have done so. The three of us sequestered ourselves after dinner as I laid out my latest intel on a group of people we had thought dead and gone. Both men wanted to break Bradley out of jail and break him in half.
Timmy had spent his time since our arrival late Wednesday evening with his old boss from San Clemente, Calif. He is in Europe taking care of the upgrade of each of our offices to the new FI/FIS division of power. He is a very capable man, one that would work well as a head of station. I would like to put Harry in our London office, but actually Paul Walker is the senior. I am not sure that Toby would leave his young wards this early, he is still very valuable to me as their translator and of course Harry speaks their language fluently as well. Harry and Timmy both told me that they would like to see Paul take the position.
Sunday morning I left Cullen with his parents, Colin and Tad were right at home with Cullen so I had no problem with pawning them off on my sister. Harry and Timmy were both at the Duke's estate and would meet me in Paris on Monday, I was at ease about security for the weekend.
Steve Thelwell would fly down to Nice with us then return with Phil after they dropped me off. I asked Phil if he would like to fly down with me, to guard his son's interest as it were. He assured me that his son did not need guarding from me. I wonder how much he really knows. Phil was in the helicopter as it landed at El and Dukey's house early Sunday morning. I had a full thermos of my coffee in hand as he passed me a thermos of coffee that Jane had made for me, we both had a bit of a laugh.
Phil introduced me to the pilot that has the lives of my favorite singing group in his finger tips every time they fly with him. Daryl is a personable man that intrigued me, I would like to have the opportunity to talk with him at length, no not for sex, pervert, I do like to talk with people just as friends once in awhile. We took our seats and strapped in for the flight to the Mediterranean Sea.
Steve strapped into a seat at the front of the passenger area, he pulled down a monitor and began to play a video game. I knew he would not be able to hear us talking, but it took me two cups of coffee to gather my courage. Ten minutes later I looked at Phil, "I need to clear the air with you, Phil. Are you aware that I am having sex with both of your sons and all of the boys in your house and in their band?"
"Oh my, I was afraid that you were going to tell me something bad. I know what goes on with my boys and I don't feel that it is anything that we really need to be alarmed over. My boys are who they are and I am very proud of them. I know who they are with and what they do with them and with that I have no problem. You may recall that I was with those boys at a wedding you held for two of your own. We spent a bit of time in your house in Albany, if you recall, and as I remember it, there was little or no clothing worn by anyone.
"Chris,…look old man, you are a good man and I quite admire you. I was never able to understand people like you until Jay came into our lives and my son, Gary, announced that they were boyfriends. I had to search within myself and so did Jane. We love Gary very much and we quickly realized that he was the same lad that we had raised up. Jay is a remarkable youngster and we are most blessed to know him and now he is a permanent part of our lives.
"One thing I know that you may or may not know. Those two lads of mine are very level headed. No one is going to get the best of them. If anything is going on then I know that it is because they want it to go on. I sat myself down with those two after your bon-fire night and they each showed me their new gold pins. They are very proud of those pins. That struck me at the time, but it was young Jay that set me straight.
"He told me, 'Dad, you will have to get to know Chris D. We didn't do sex with him so that we could have sex, we did it so we could be with him. All of his boys have told us how great he is and he is all of that, and more.
"'I have learned to love the man for who he is and what he stands for and if he wants to do me up then I am proud to let him. He makes me feel good, but he makes me feel like I am somebody. I don't feel dirty or used when I am with him, I just feel loved.
"'Don't get me wrong, I know that you and Jane love me as much as my mum and dad did, but Chris D. loves me not like his child, but like a person.'
"He didn't think that he was saying it correctly, but I understood him. Now that I have gotten to know you I know that there is something about you that no other man that I have ever met has. I don't even want to think about having sex with you, or any man, but I do know a love for you that I have not felt since I sat in my own father's lap as a boy. Let's never speak of any of this again. You just know that Jane and I love and trust you as much as we love and trust our sons."
That was a lot to think about. I don't know why I am thinking so much about these things lately. I suppose it has to do with the world's awareness that seems to be more keyed into perverts and pedophiles lately. I don't know if it has anything to do with what I have done or if it is just coincidence, but I feel very self conscious about the sex that I enjoy with so many underage children; yes, all of them that are under eighteen in my state are under age.
You're My Best Friend
Written by John Deacon.
Sung by Freddie Mercury
Ooh, you make me live
Whatever this world can give to me
It's you, you're all I see
Ooh, you make me live now honey
Ooh, you make me live
Oh, you're the best friend
That I ever had
I've been with you such a long time
You're my sunshine
And I want you to know
That my feelings are true
I really love you
(ooh) oh, you're my best friend
Ooh, you make me live
Ooh, I've been wandering round
But I still come back to you
(still come back to you)
In rain or shine
You've stood by me girl
I'm happy at home (happy at home)
You're my best friend
Ooh, you make me live
Whenever this world is cruel to me
I got you, to help me forgive - oo oo ooh
Ooh, you make me live now honey
Ooh, you make me live
Oh, you're the first one
When things turn out bad
You know I'll never be lonely
You're my only one
And I love the thing
I really love the things that you do
Oh, you're my best friend
Oh, ooh, you make me live
I'm happy (happy at home)
You're my best friend
Oh, oh, you're my best friend
Ooh, you make me live
Oo oo ooh
You, you're my best friend
The Wild Boys' helicopter sat down at the airport in Nice where a car waited for us. I said good bye to Phil and Steve then was driven to customs, I never left the car, a man looked through the window at me then waved me on. From there I was driven across town to the beach and to the largest palace I have ever seen. François has the largest house on the coast. Seventy nine bedrooms on the five upper floors, ten of them are large suites and sixty of them are guest bedrooms, each larger than Cullen's suite at El's home. There are other bedrooms on the lower levels for staff quarters.
My car drove around the wide circular pathway and stopped in front of a magnificent stairway of solid white marble. To each side of the stairs stood a six foot tall statue of a sitting Sphinx cat with its tail curled up along its back. A most perfect young footman swung gracefully to the car and opened my door for me. Michelangelo's David is often looked upon as having the perfect male physique, but to my eye I prefer a bit less flesh on the torso and a bit more flesh down where it matters.
David is probably proportioned more like most young males, a short cock resting atop two tight orbs, but I like to see a boy swing. It has always been my exquisite pleasure to be around boys whose endowments were a bit longer then their scrotum which allow for it to swing from side to side as the youngster walks, or even flop up and down as his speed increases. Such was the case with this footman and if I am any good at determining a boy's upstanding length from his resting state I was sure that this boy was well on his way to being a true footman.
Another fair bodied lad of equal endowment held the twelve foot tall door open and bowed low as I approached him. Inside the door was a magnificent vestibule capable of garaging two or three Mack trucks and a fleet of automobiles. I was a bit put off by the decorations of the entry way though, everywhere I turned I was greeted by statuary of cats, or pictures of cats. I felt like Harry Potter sitting in Delores Umbridge's study in Jo Rawlings fifth book of the Harry Potter series, The Order of the Phoenix.
Everywhere I looked my eyes fell upon the finest of eye candy that an old fag could hope to see. To my way of thinking that is what the statuary and paintings should depict, hard male youth. One of those hard male youths bowed to me and bade me follow through tall, narrow doors. I was following a rigid erection is what I was following, both his and mine. Inside the door I was stopped short by the sight of François laying in a hospital bed and smiling at me around an oxygen tube stuck up his nose.
Next to him was a young male nurse wearing nothing, but a nurse's cap and a stethoscope. François had an IV inserted into the back of his left hand and three plastic bags of some sort of medicines hung from a metal pole attached to his bed. A frame across the head of the bed held many different types of monitors, but those were turned away from those gathered near him.
Around his bed were many old friends, some good, some I just knew. Athos Henley rushed over to greet me, with him was Terry Upbridge, "Terry brought your Mr. Bradley down last night," Athos whispered to me as he shook my hand.
Also present were other men that I had known and done over the years, several of which had been in the woods with my boys and me over the summer of 2006. I knew them all to be powerful law makers, bankers, policemen, and men of business. I was pleased to see that I was not the only American in the company, my good fried from the FBI and three members of congress were also present. I was amongst friends.
I stopped short when I approached the bed of a very frail looking François. Chained to the hearth inside of the fireplace, with his hands high over his head, was the young doctor from the castle. Petro was dragging a very sharp looking knife across the man's chest, he had an evil glint in his eye when he turned and smiled at me. My step hesitated, a fact not missed by those in the room. I looked around and saw Bradley and others in similar restraints, but I had come to see an old friend.
I leaned down to kiss François and he grabbed me with more strength than I thought his frail body would process. He drew me down for a proper kiss. François would be about seventy six years old, but he looked every bit of ninety three, "Don't worry my dear, dear boy, I am not contagious and I don't have AIDS." He laughed slightly, but was caught short by a fit of coughing, "Damn, I need another cigarette. Somebody should have banned those damned things years ago. Yes, I am dying of lung cancer, I only have a piece of one lung left and breath is a precious commodity to me.
"Now that we are all here let us begin." He smiled as a naked boy brought me a chair so that I could sit at his bedside and look at him. With everyone seated so that we could see each other and François at the same time he told us his story.
I knew that he had married some very old money at the ripe old age of sixteen. He had been the sexual escort to a very rich old lady, the widow of a high ranking former Nazi banker. Her father had been hanged in 1959 for war crimes against the people under his control at a POW camp in Poland. There were millions of dollars hidden in banks along with real property, art work, and bars of gold that had been assembled from the property of those prisoners.
I was only an idealist of twenty one years of age when I met François and was placed in his bed by my benefactor, Charley Weston. I learned some of the story of the man's wealth and became insistent that the money did not belong to him, that it should be returned to those from whom it had been stolen. At the time my pleas fell on, what I thought were, deaf ears. As time went on attitudes began to change throughout the world and François sought to do as I had proposed.
During the late 1990s François had began to contact Charley more often and he always inquired after me, sometimes I would be at home and I would talk with the man. According to François, and the bankers present, Charley knew that the money and art was being returned. Many families had been completely wiped out but, based on records that had been left deep inside several caves about Europe, these bankers had been able to find apparent heirs or extended family for most all of them.
François had amassed an immense fortune from his own efforts over the forty years that he controlled the Nazi funds. Through scrupulous auditing what he gained on his own, and what he gained by use of those funds, were separated from one another. François had actually managed to acquire more than the stolen booty was worth.
François owns many properties about Europe and the records bore out the facts that all, but three of those properties had belonged to either his late wife's father or her first husband's family before the war began. Now they clearly belong to François. The three properties that were acquired during, or shortly after, the war were acquired from the families of other European families that sold them to his wife's father. During his trial as a war criminal it was determined that the man had been quite wealthy and no ties to any ill gotten gain could be found, those three houses belong to François as well.
I felt good with this knowledge. The Bible tells us if we have stolen anything then we need to restore it, with interest, so that we might be saved. That is not always easy to do, but an attempt should be made and if it cannot be restored to the rightful owner then it should be given over for the good of many others, charity or such.
It was very important to François for me to know that he had done what I had suggested. He was genuine when he told me that he valued what I thought of him. He had learned, from those in attendance, what I had and what I was doing for boys that I had found. François told us that he had sought out and used many such boys for his own pleasure over the past fifty years and he owed them a very big debt. He asked me if I would entertain having a school for these boys in Europe.
Of course I would. I had thought seriously about using the castle, but the stench of death in that place filled my nostrils with revulsion. My gathered comrades had an idea, François owned four large homes in Germany. They had from ten to thirty bedrooms and two of them had large estates about them that would make for a nice school. He owned six homes in France and two in Greece. I was welcome to any or all of them as I choose. He hit me kind of low when he told me that whatever I did not want he would give to some of those sitting with us.
I have a lot of compassion for my fellow man, maybe too much at times. I would like to see some of these men have something of their own. François laughed at me as he told me that he is well aware of my hatred of cold weather so he had not mentioned the large houses in Switzerland and Scotland. I was told that I was welcome to them, if I desired. I shook my head no to that with a smile of my own. He told me that he had a small place near Brighton, but that it was too small for a school of any size.
Brighton seems to keep popping up on this trip. The south coast city is rampant with street boys and could use a school, but if it were going to work it needs to be large enough for at least a hundred boys.
I am quite partial to the property that I had rented at St. Tropez, but it was also too small for a school. I looked around the room that I was in and with a few billion cats removed it would be a nice home for boys. There were a lot of eyes looking at me, I was not the only one that felt that way about the house on the beach. A rarity in Nice, the property had a six acre wood to the west. Across from the two hundred foot wide gardens along the back of the house was a long row comprised of many older apartments for tourists to the city. François owned all of it. My mind was racing.
Before anything else was done we were called to dine. A long table was stacked with foods of every sort, from meats to fruits. François was rolled in, still in his bed, and set across the head of the table where we could see him quite well. He spoke to the boys with him, one of the boys stepped to the door and let forth a piercing whistle that was followed by the sounds of naked feet slapping on marble floors all throughout the house.
A quick count told me that one hundred and fifty boys gathered around the walls of the large dining hall. There was not a single boy in the room that I would want to throw out. "Here is the beginning class of your newest school," Athos told me. "These are boys that have been found from all about the continent. Four of these boys you and I have spoken of before. These are sons of Seigy that Petro had helped to escape during the past two years or so." I did recognize those boys, but I don't believe that they are sons of the late Murat al-Hadi. I also recognized ten boys that had been in the house of Athos during my lay over there before I left for Romania. I silently wondered why Athos had not brought those youngsters to England, or why they had not ended up in Tucson with the others.
I asked Athos about the boys and reminded him that he had told me in February that Interpol had located sixty boys that had been located after raids that broke up a major child pornography ring, I suppose that some of these boys may have come from there I asked him if those boys were a part of this group.
Petro was seated next to me, I put my arm around him then I took his hand and led him over to the boys. He introduced me to four boys about seventeen or eighteen. I speak no French whatsoever and I speak even less Romanian than that. Petro was speaking in broken English and the boys responded in English. Each boy hugged me and thanked me for rescuing their little brothers and for giving them a home. I wondered how I could reunite them with those boys in Tucson, or if I should. I walked down the line and shook hands with every boy in the room. I was hungry, but I had to feast my eyes on their beauty first.
My blood sugar was low and I began to swoon, Athos caught me and made me sit down to eat, I wanted meat and cream. "All of these boys are street boys and have been making their way by whatever means they could find. François agreed to bring all of them here and to get you over to hear their story. Chris, all of them want an education. They want to get off of the street and they want to grow up to be somebody. You are the only one that any of us can think of that can make that happen."
"I see at least ten boys that I met at your house in August, my friend," I said.
"As I just told you, these boys are all runaways and street boys. They have no papers that would allow them to immigrate to your country."
I looked the man in the eye, "You sent me Colin Thomas."
He looked away, "I found a lad's papers with that name and thought that they were the same, I erred." I can live with that.
I sat back and looked the boys over once again. I turned and looked at François, "Any property I want?"
"Or all of them, Christopher." I was stunned. Could I do this, of course I could, I can, I will.
As we ate our meal the boys left the room. I could hear their mirth and laughter and rose up from my chair to peer out the window. My eyes filled with a most joyous sight, the boys were playing soccer out on the wide lawn, in the nude. François was tired and wanted to nap awhile so my companions and I opted to take in a game. We were not disappointed.
Remember I said that I enjoy watching a boy swing from side to side and flop up and down? What better way for this to happen than when watching the sweetness of youth in a rousing game of soccer. The boys had on good shoes to protect their toes as they kicked the ball from one end of the field to the other, but they wore nothing else. I was sure that their precious jewels would be tender and maybe even injured as they played without supporters, but then again my friends and I were big supporters of their sport and we would all be more than happy to nurse any tender parts.
Even more arousing than the players on the field were the boys on the sidelines as they bounced hither and fro to cheer the two teams on. I had no idea who was on which team as none of them wore anything to designate such, at least not to my untrained eye. A sweet piece of boy with a high rounded butt chose to stand in front of me and I throughly enjoyed watching his tight twins in action.
I quickly realized that he was giving me a show when I caught his third glance over his shoulder and his sweet smile. Benoît—blessed—is a fourteen year old youngster with jet black hair and deep blue eyes. His high cheek bones tinged in their natural rouge set his face aglow with the virility of robust youth. Of course his four inch pecker made me pucker the most. I offered him my lap and he quickly took it then he reached under himself to open my fly and inserted his hand. His eyes widened and he arose to turn around and pull my cock from the confining cloth. When I was free and exposed he let out a squeal which alerted the boys nearby.
I was surrounded by hot young boys with wide open eyes. I did not catch a word of what was said, but knowing fag boys as I do I was sure that they were talking about my size. Benny bent over and suckled me, it was a stretch for him, but he managed to engulf me and showed me his talents. I was not about to sit there and get a blow job without being able to return the favor, besides that there was a game going on. I took the young sweet body back to my lap and kissed him softly then returned to watching the players on the field.
My companions and I talked amongst ourselves as we enjoyed the game and the boy each of us held in our laps. I learned a few things. The first thing that I learned was to be more attentive, the players wore either green or blue shoe laces to designate their team, dumb me, I was not looking at their feet. I also learned that the men hanging around in the front room were the pimps and serious abusers to some of these boys. I learned that the doctor had been an admirer of Seigy and had wasted no time in letting Pavel know what had taken place in the castle. He let a few others know as well and found himself face to face with Tahl, Petro's friend and driver. The doctor shot and killed Tahl and buried his body where it was later dug up by wild animals.
The French police had plans for the fate of the men hanging around in the front room. The doctor's fate was left for me to decide. I had enough of this sort of thing, but my friends coaxed me to a decision. He had committed murder, but my companions felt that the process through the courts might take too long. I got the impression that the local police had turned their backs and winked at the young man being taken out of their country.
Everybody in the room feared what I might do. Their fear came from knowledge departed by the, now, speechless doctor. He had wasted no time in pouring out every sordid detail of my tortuous and barbaric acts against seven upstanding men. He felt that the mutilation of two influential world leaders, that were only visitors to the castle, was the act of a truly sadistic murderer.
I was told that at that point Petro had about all he could tolerate and cut the man's tongue out. Athos explained about the nuclear device on board an oil tanker, that little bit of news had never been made public. Petro told the assemblage of the barbarism of the two guards, he felt that their end had been much too easy. Everyone knew full well of the atrocities committed by the other three and their deaths had been agreed to before I ever entered the castle. I was slightly relieved that the doctor had not described their end. I know that all of them would have agreed to the end result that had straightened out Dimitri.
Seigy was a bad person, Dimitri was the slime that actually handled the children. It was Dimitri's farms where children were trained. Dimitri had hands on dealing with most every boy that passed through his organization. There was just plainly no excuse for Ibrahim, that sub-creature involved himself for purely self serving purposes. Money was important to him, but his true reasoning had been the overthrow of his brother with the crown of his kingdom falling on his own head. He was the one that had started the entire affair and it was him that had involved all of the rest.
They are no longer a threat to the world. Tom Bradley was a whole different matter. The man had been in a position of authority, a peace officer, he was only after his own piece. I wonder how much money Dimitri and Ibrahim had paid the man for his theft of young boys off of the streets. Everyone watched me closely as I studied the battered face of a man in whom I had often confided. His most recent victim had not survived, in his drunken assault he had taken the life of, what turned out to be, an eleven year old school boy that he grabbed off of street as the lad made his way home from a day of study. I asked Athos about letting both of them join Seigy.
Athos took me aside and told me that he, Petro, and myself were the only ones in the room that knew Seigy's fate or where he currently resides, but he thought the idea to be the perfect solution. I looked at Athos and asked him if the men would be dead before they were placed in the chipper. Athos turned back to watch the game. Did the doctor's telling of what went on in that castle earn him such a brutal death? Did Cullen deserve to have assassins chase him everywhere he went? I took Benny upstairs to my room.
All of us gathered again for our evening meal. I had grandiose ideals for schools throughout Europe and I quickly learned that my present company was very supportive of those ideals. Before we were finished eating title of deed to a thirty bedroom castle near Frankfort, Germany was mine. I also owned a nice forty bedroom villa on the west coast of Greece that sat on fifty seaside acres above the town of Lárisa, just down the coast from Cullen's homeland. My mind played with bringing all of my boys to live in Greece and play the ancient Greek games, naked, all day. I could set up a school for them and still be close to my sweet little nephew.
The palace where I was now belongs to Bradford Academy of France—BAF?—and the villa at St. Tropez is mine for my personal get away. The estate in Scotland now belongs to Terry Upbridge. Athos was given a very nice home, that had somehow survived the war, at Calais on the north coast of France. He now has full custody of his young lover's little brother, Frank and Pete lost their mother since I had met them in August, Athos had been their benefactor for several years. With his full pardon from the English Crown Athos was now free to live in the open again. The home across the channel from his homeland was perfect for him. It would also put him in a better position for his work with Interpol.
François had a very sizable amount of money and he wanted the bulk of it to go to help support the three schools. Athos did receive a few million pounds sterling and Terry was given a half million pounds to help him ease into his new life style. My four American friends each received a tidy seven figure sums to be deposited in Swiss accounts, for their retirement. The balance, over six hundred million pounds was moved into a numbered account in a bank that held some five hundred billion dollars from the former holdings of Seigy, Nicholas, and Ibrahim. The schools would do quite well.
I told my host that I really needed to rest and prepare to face Nicolas Sarkozy the President of France the following morning. He bade me take my choice of bed coverings then had a boy lead me to a room. I did not want to chose, I told the boys that whomever escorted me to my room for the night could stay, if he wished. I had two boys fighting over who would escort me, I slapped their bare butts and told them to lead the way.
The two had heard from Benoît of my sexual procedures and they were eager to learn from first hand experience what I was like, I was happy to show them. I grabbed the young fourteen year old Niels—champion—and turned his previous sexual experiences into old history. I learned that he had left an impoverished farm life to follow his dreams. His sole support had been his willingness to have sex with anyone, for a price. He was smart enough to demand that his patron sheath himself. I offered to don a raincoat, but I was told that François had assured each of the boys as to my cleanliness. Still I offered so the youngster mounted me himself and told me to work on it. I did.
I turned to fifteen year old Otès—wealthy—I was feeling my oats as I sucked a nice thick French cock. Say what you will about French pastries, I will take a live cream puff that is attached to a sweet boy any day. Otès was a cream puff, I had the cream in mere seconds and then I took him on his first flight of fantasy. I never removed his cock from my mouth as I began to work his tight anus with my fingers, much to his pleasure. After his second, and larger, load I laved his body as I moved my face down his slender thighs then his young world exploded when I found his bull's eye.
Both boys were used to back alley sex with an occasional overnight somewhere, but neither had ever experienced rimming. Niels was as excited as Otès. He had his face up close to catch the action and I had plans for him. When Otès began to tighten up I raised up to catch his offering, but before he could catch a breath I was on my way inside his tight poop chute with my mighty lance.
I told Niels to kneel over the boy's face and feed him his cock then I pushed his young body forward so that I could move into his world central. I fucked Otès to a frenzy as I ate Niels to nirvana. When Otès coated my belly with more of himself I turned Niels to sixty nine with him. I moved in behind Niels and entered him and finished what I had begun with Otès.
I had only let go of one load between the two boys so I was not tired or depleted. I lay back and listened to two happy lads carry on in their own language, but the language of boys is decipherable without words. A light tapping on the door awakened us an hour later. I sent Niels to let the four youngsters in that I had interviewed during the past summer.
I allowed the boys to sit on my bed with my two young companions and myself as I listened to their story. Athos and I had met with young Qays—firm (15), Rais—captain (17), Saud—fortunate (14), and Siraj—lamp, light, (17). They were the sons of one of whom I did not know, Qasim—divider. Qasim al-Hadi was the elder brother of Khaldun and Murat al-Hadi. He had fallen from grace with his father before the father met his fate at the hand of those two brothers. Qasim had fled with his two wives and their sons to live in Monaco until their grandfather's henchmen found him and made fish food from his flesh.
Before I could say it Rais told me that they had no succession to the throne. There father had abdicated all rights for himself and his heirs before he fled for his life, but still his grandfather wanted his own son dead. The two older boys were, but babes in arms when they slipped away and they never learned what had happened between their father and grandfather. Their father was murdered when Qays was, but two weeks old, before Saud was born. Rais and Qays were raised by the mother of Siraj and Saud when their own mother did not recover from the birth of Qays and the death of her husband.
The boys have access to the accrued wealth of their father, but being under age they have had trouble finding a place to live. Something in that story did not strike home with me, if the boys had money their age would mean little to a landlord somewhere. I did a stare down and watched young eyes drop.
Monaco is a city of wealth that caters to societal clientele. Young homosexuals are a blight to the community and Siraj had been kicked out of four schools for his penchant to kneel before the other students and a few teachers. This fact was not known to the other three boys until the mother of Siraj and of Saud took ill and died suddenly in the winter of 2005. The boys told me that the flu was quite bad that year and many people took ill and quite a few had died from the disease. Saud was, but twelve and the authorities tried to take him away, but Siraj knew Athos through a friend of his. This story was getting more and more interesting to me.
Nobody knew that Rais was also gay until Athos took Siraj to the young man in hopes that he might be able to help him find a home for the youngsters. Rais had been arrested many times for pandering and sexual solicitation, he was always released to Athos who liked the young man quite a bit. I know what Athos liked about the Arab boy, it was standing tall between his legs as we talked together.
Athos was caught off guard when he learned that Siraj and Rais were brothers, he had only thought that he might help two boys find a place to live together. It was only then he learned that they were four, and all brothers from the same father. Athos wanted to take them to St. Tropez, but they chose to stay in Monaco for the younger boys to stay in school.
A year and a half of bitterness and trouble had sent the boys in search of Athos and he brought them to me. They were frightened of me and were sure that as a rich American I would separate them forever. During our brief interview I had noticed the fear etched in the eyes of the smaller boys and the protective attitude of the two older boys. I let Athos talk with them then I never saw them again until our brunch earlier in the morning.
"So why are you here now?"
"Well, we sorta saw you and we think that we might have been wrong not to let you help us. We know François and he told us that we made a very bad mistake by not going home with you last summer. Athos told us that you have seventeen of our brothers at your house now."
"I have seventeen of your cousins from the castle of your uncle Murat at my house in America and I have ten of your young cousins that Athos found now living with me. I also have other sons of your uncles Murat, Ibrahim, and Hassan living with me."
"Who are they? I have heard of Murat, but not Ibrahim or Hassan."
"King Khaldun, Ibrahim and Hassan are sons of the same mother and your grandfather. Murat is their half brother by a different mother. Now I have some questions for you.
"Tell me if I am wrong, I seem to be hearing that you are sorry that you turned down the chance to go to America and live with me last summer. You have been given a great opportunity here, if you will make use of it. I am going to establish a school in this house and the four of you would not have to leave France. You can stay here and learn, but more important you can be of great help to me if you do stay here.
"I will need boys that know what the street life is here and that have a desire to better themselves. None of you has had a solid educational advantage, were I to rip you up from your country and transplant you in my desert you would be very much behind in your learning abilities. I would have to place all of you in seventh or eighth grade classes so that you can learn the basics that you will need for the higher grades.
"There is also the fact that you two older boys seem to be conversant in English, that would help me greatly. If I took you to America you could help because your cousins that I took home speak very little English and even that is very poor."
"We can help them, we speak our father's language and English as well as French. Oays and Siraj even learned Latin at that church where the priest did it to them."
My heart stopped and the boys saw my reaction. Niels pulled away from me and moved to the side of the bed with Otès right behind him. I smiled at them, but they were not real sure what had happened. I leaned over to embrace Qays and Siraj. "I am so sorry, boys. I am a boy lover and I have a lot of sex with a lot of boys, but I strongly dislike anyone of authority that preys on boys without permission. If you wanted the priests to do things to you then that is your business, but if they forced or coerced you then I don't like them." I got a warm hug from both boys as Niels and Otès settled back on the bed.
I sent all six boys off to bed when Athos came to me. He had a telephone call that he wanted me to take in the downstairs office near the kitchen. I trust Athos, but he had something on his mind and would not tell me so my curiosity was at its peak. I may find a peak for him, a mountain peak and chain him to it.
The easiest option for transportation to Paris seemed to be by their highspeed rail service the TGV. I reserved a premier first class compartment for us at a mere 264€—$376—but I was dismayed by the nearly six hour travel time. I thought that traveling at over one hundred and ninety miles an hour over land would put me in the capitol city much quicker than that.
I didn't realize that there was no direct Nice to Paris route, I would have to change trains twice. That added a good deal to the total travel time. Athos found me a helicopter that made the trip in two hours. I was saddened, I would love to have seen France from the window of a train. One can never tell what the countryside looks like when flying over it all of the time.
I joined up with Harry and Timmy at our prearranged point then we mounted the limousines provided to take us to the Palais de l'álysáe on the Champs-álysáes. President Nicolas Sarkozy was going through a divorce proceeding and had not yet moved into the palace, which was built in 1722, but he plans to move there shortly. The palace has been the home of many of history's greats, including: Napoleon Bonaparte, Napoleon III, Raymond Poincará, Charles de Gaulle, François Mitterrand, to name a few. I must have looked like a tourist as I strolled about looking at the large paintings and many statues and busts that adorn the wide halls.
I had to laugh when I thought of something I once read about Charles de Gaulle. Harry made me tell him what was so funny. De Gaulle is reported to have once said that he did not like the palace because he was not comfortable meeting visiting kings in the hallway wearing their pajamas.
"Messieurs, would you come with me please?" I was startled, the title Monsieur means My Lord, not a title brandied about, at least that is the way I heard it. We were led into an office more regally appointed than anything I had ever seen first hand. We were seated so that we faced the gentlemen that had summoned us.
"Messieurs, I beg you forgive this delay, but I must ask a few questions. You are Monsieur Dickson? Please tell me about the man we know as Count Corvin. Who was he and where is he?" What a loaded question. I filled the man in on all that I knew of Seigy and his business partner, Nicholas Pagonis. I told him how I came to learn of them and their operation and how I had found boys, in his own country, that had been turned out as sex slaves controlled by these men. Our interrogator was visibly shaken by my words so I got very graphic. I didn't do it for the shock value as much as for the man to realize the scope of what was being done, within the borders of his own country. Finally I was asked again where Count Corvin is.
That particular tense of the verb sent a chill through me so I answered curtly, "He is no more. I believe that he has taken up feeding pigs on a large pig farm." That caused eyebrows to raise. I was asked if the Count was not Muslim, I replied that he was and smiled at him.
"Messieurs, we have been weighing a heavy burden since news of your service to our country first came to our attention. We have talked to our friends in England and they were certain that knighthood was the very least thing that they could bestow upon you for your valiant efforts. We no longer have such an honor as in the past and we have been unsure how to show our sincerest gratitude to you. We had thought that a Chevalier—Knight—of the Ordre de la Legion d'honneur would be appropriate, but La Presidenté Sarkozy will have none of it, he tells us that nothing, but the Grand'Croix should be given to you and the Grand Officier to your two men that assisted you. You have done a great service to France and at the peril of your own life. I believe that upon hearing your account of the situation that I will stand with my Presidenté."
He offered us the use of a bathroom and gave us a cold drink to refresh ourselves then led us to a nice ceremony where we were, indeed, decorated with the highest honors that France has to bestow. I tried not to show it, but Nicolas Sarkozy wore the same red sash across his right shoulder and the gold star shaped medallion on his left chest that he had just placed on me. I wondered if he knew what it was to have the blood of his enemy splashed across his body, literally. Harry and Timmy received a silver badge on the right chest and a ribbon with a rosette to wear on their left chest. I would have been happy with a handshake and maybe a little ribbon. We were given little ribbon bars like all military men wear on their uniforms in lieu of the heavy medals. I had to look closely to see the difference between the boys' ribbons and mine. Harry pointed out that my ribbon had yellow banners to each side of the center piece while theirs had yellow to the right and and white on the left. I am not yellow, I don't think.
As the band played and waiters passed through the crowd of about sixty dignitaries our interrogator took me apart from listening ears. "Monsieur Dickson, you seem to be a well read man. Our law forbids the wearing of the Grand Cross with decorations from other principalities that are mainly red in color. I have here a letter signed by La Presidenté forgiving you that restriction. You have been honored by England and we know that you now go to Romania where they will award you their ancient honor of The Romanian Grand Cross, you are pardoned if you should wear all three, well deserved, awards at the same time." Then he did something that I wasn't prepared for, but it is their way, he kissed each of my cheeks then did the same to Harry and Timmy.
We just made our plane to Bucharest by the skin of our teeth. By the request of the President I still wore the red sash across my right shoulder and the large medal on my left breast. Harry and Timmy both had their new medals on their chests. Timmy sat beside me, with Harry across the aisle. Timmy sensed my nervousness and quipped at me, "Maybe Romania will make us members of the old secret society of the Order of the Dragon." He thought himself funny, I pictured him sitting on Dimitri's butt plug, the ten inch thick spike I shoved up his ass.
All three of us were awarded Romania's highest award, the Romanian Grand Cross. Romania was an ally of the Nazis during WWII and her armies fought alongside the German troops in some of the fiercest battles of the war. The Russian Communists overthrew those forces and established Communist rule over the land for the next forty four years. I was a bit reticent about an award of any kind from this present government. Romania is a free democracy now, but they had still allowed the most evil person that I had ever met to reign free on the streets of their country. I suppose that if we look under the rug we will find much evil in our own country, but Seigy was operating in a seemingly open fashion.
The Romanian government went a bit overboard for my way of thinking. I was awarded the oldest of their honors, The Romanian Grand Cross with swords, and The Order of the Crown, Knight Cross w/swords. Both Harry and Timmy also received The Order of the Crown, Knight Cross. Actually both of these awards are left overs from the Axis days, but the sincerity with which they were presented to us made me forget a lot of doubts that I had about these people and their government. All of us have been shamed by someone close to us at some point in our lives. Seigy was in position when this free government was installed and no one knew exactly how to get rid of him, short of murder. We did that part of the job for them and they showed us their gratitude.
I returned to Dukey and El's country estate to be with Cullen and my sister for a few hours of quiet time. Harry and Timmy stove up in a hotel near Heathrow until time for our flight out Tuesday evening. I had to secure seats on our flight for Tad and Colin, with our enlarged security detail we would take up all of the VIP seating area onboard a 747. Nobody wanted a repeat of the fiasco created by the air marshall on our flight over.
The six of us boarded our plane as quietly as we could, but when one travels with a King quiet is hard to come by. Word had gotten out and the press was against the windows clamoring for Cullen to turn and wave at them. I was glad that the police were able to keep them inside the building, but now the world knew that Cullen was on his way back to the U.S. of A.
We were met in New York by a representative from the State Department who welcomed Cullen to our country, but I quickly cut him off. We bustled past him and off of the plane. Harry and Timmy placed Cullen between them and led him down the side steps to an awaiting limo, with a three vehicle escort plus motorcycle police. The press vehicles in front of the air port strengthened my resolve that Cullen will never again fly a commercial flight as long as he is in my charge.
Our escort quickly left the airport grounds then stopped in an underground garage for all of us to slip into an unmarked FIS SUV for a trip back to another gate of the airport where we slipped aboard a, corporate, FI helicopter headed for base B. We landed close to my newest puppy, a Boeing 737 900ER, with seating for two hundred passengers. Okay, the 737 is a medium range aircraft, but the model 600 had served us well on our trips to England and now I need more passenger seating. I hope that my family doesn't grow to the size that I have to buy a 747, not all of the places I go to can land a plane of that size.
At base B we met up with fourteen wide eyed boys. Athos had sent me the four sons of Qasim from Nice and Raven had sent ten of his own sons to an American Air Force base in northeastern England where General Orr and his men quietly helped them aboard my new plane on her shakedown flight fresh from the factory in Seattle, Washington. Hey Seattle to Tucson via England is a good shakedown flight, right? I called Athos, he told me that he knew that I would need the four youngster's English speaking skills to help me out. He knew good and well that the ten boys Raven was sending are proficient in English.
Two nights earlier I had threatened the man with a mountain top, now I need to start shopping for one.
A fifteen passenger van was waiting by the plane for me. I had been talking to the flight crew as we flew to Base B and learned that there was a small problem with the plane. I crowded everyone inside the van, but I had to drive, there was just no room for a driver. Timmy took shotgun and Harry was in the far back seat watching our rear as I drove off of the base and thirty five miles down the highway to the small truck stop where I first met my little Eric.
My young guests were talking excitedly in French when Cullen spoke up. The four boys dropped to their knees and began talking rapidly. Cullen waved his hand in the dismissive gesture that I have seen royalty use so often, I almost smacked him.
"They recognize me as the King and were talking about me, unc. They didn't know that I speak French. And I speak Farsi too, guys." He spoke to the boys once again. The blank look on their faces was worth a goldmine, they had no idea what to do next. Hell, I didn't know that Cullen speaks Farsi and the seven different dialects of Arabic, as well as MSA. The boy is a wonder. He sure as hell didn't learn these languages in American schools.
"We speak English and nothing else, do I make myself clear?" They each nodded at me. "So now you know my big secret, Cullen is my nephew and he lives with me. What do you want to do with that knowledge?" They really didn't get my meaning so I explained about the attempts on Cullen's life and how I would kill anyone that tried to hurt him, I pulled my coat tail back so that they could see my 9mm Glock then pulled up my pants leg to show them my snub nose .357 Colt. They could not believe that I had just gotten off of an airplane with two guns on me. I told them that Harry and Timmy had more than that on them. The boys were wide eyed, I like to keep them that way.
It was almost noon Wednesday and I wanted to give these boys a feast such as they had never had before so I ordered twenty old fashioned cheeseburger baskets with the works, no bacon, fries and milkshakes, but I let them choose their flavor. Raven's ten boys are pretty good with English, but they had to have help with chocolate, strawberry, or vanilla. I sat and looked on this great gift that my friend had entrusted me with.
His trip to America the week before had been two fold. One, he knew about the attempt on my life and wanted to thwart that, and two he wanted to see for himself the type of school that I was running and the actual living conditions within my house. He was pleased enough that he sent his school aged sons, thirteen to sixteen, to me. He told me when he called me Sunday night in Nice that he wanted his sons to have at least two years in America. Next we are going to work on ways of getting his older sons into the university.
Harry, Timmy, and I sat apart from the boys. I sat where I could watch the boys and my two body guards sat so that they could watch the doors. I enjoyed watching these youngsters at their first taste of American food, they did not know what to expect, but the expressions on each of their faces was perfect. Their young minds just could not master the sights and smells of America. My cell phone rang and I was told that the plane was serviced and ready to go. We finished our meal and made the half hour's drive back to the base to fly on to Tucson.
Once airborne I went forward to talk to the captain. The technicians had found a cold solder joint in the circuit breaker panel. One touch of a hot iron and all was well, the Boeing man on board was apologetic and assured me that he would make it right with me for the delay. I didn't tell him, but the delay was just what I needed for the boys to bond with the four from Nice and with Cullen and of course, me. So there you have it. Is your friction enhanced by my fiction?
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Warning: This story is PORNO. I have tried my hand at friction, now I'm trying fiction. This story contains vivid descriptions of sexual activity between men and teen boys.
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