Chapter eighteen


Our hope is that every homosexual youth in this country can find a home and someone to love them as they are.
No one deserves to be discriminated against, no matter what their differences from society's norm

A tidy quote from our favorite author,
"titles belong on books, not people" ©Carl Dickson–2007

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.
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.

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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.

Thus said, this story is copyrighted, ©2005-2011. It is therefore illegal to copy or use any part of this story on any other web site without my written permission.

This is a spelling and grammar corrected chapter. It now contains bookmarks for easy reference.
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    Cory was wet and hungry. The rains had been relentless all week, three hurricanes had hit Florida and the rain had peppered this entire area all month long. He and his mother had gone into a super market to steal some food. He stole a package of bologna and a loaf of bread. She stole a bottle of booze. They had gone out different doors and the store manager followed her. Cory went across the street and hid between some buildings. The police came and hauled his mother off to jail with no one ever looking for him. He had hidden there for several hours and had eaten all of the bologna by the time they took her away. He got up and left the area before dawn. He found a delivery man who let him blow him for five dollars. Then he found an empty house to sleep in. He woke up in mid-afternoon and started walking. He spotted the laundromat and decided to try to clean his clothes. The heat rash was hurting him and he knew he needed to clean his body so he waited until dark. He bought a soda and some chips, but had to save the rest for the washing machines. He was going to use his wet clothes to wash himself with, but I came in he had to just let the machines run while he hid.
    I asked him if we should go find his mother. He knew his mother's name was Sandra, but he didn't know what name to look for her under and he was sure that if he went looking that he would be put in juvenile hall or something. He had never been in custody, but he had heard about it from other boys he had met on the streets. I asked him where he would go now. He was very downcast as he draggrd his toe in the dirt. He said he would try to hitchhike out of the state and end up on the streets in a large city. He pretty well knew how to find soup kitchens and he could suck cock for enough money to survive. I asked him how many of the boys he had met did this. He told me all of them. He said they didn't really like it because they had to suck "some really nasty assed sons of bitches", but it beat hunger. He told me that it was when you got older and lost your looks that things would get real bad.
    I asked him if he would like to stay with me and suck my cock and let me fuck him until I got caught and went to prison. He laughed and said he would go to prison with me because he seduced me. Well, I hadn't sucked his dick yet. The age of consent in Tennessee is sixteen so I hadn't broken the law yet. I hadn't had sex with him yet either, but I wasn't above alleviating that situation right now.
     Traveler© was headed west, we had about three hours of daylight left so I put the pedal to the metal and let him have his head. We came into Memphis just as it got dark out. I hopped on the bridge on I-40 and headed across the Mississippi river into Arkansas then I pulled off into the first shopping center I saw. It just happened to be a Wal Mart. One of the nice things about this company is that they let RVs park in the outer fringes of their large lots overnight. I took advantage of that policy. I pulled away from the busy street and its associated noise to a quiet back corner. I set the electric levelers to stabilize the coach and pushed the button that closed the shutterss over the windshield and front doors.
    I had a growing boy on my hands so I let him pick his poison for dinner. He choose a frozen dinner and I got the same. We dined then went in to Wal Mart and bought the latest movies. We retired for the night by getting nude and cuddling together to watch the final episode of the Matrix.
    I didn't quite get to see the movie as I had a very respectable seven and a half inch cock fucking in and out of my throat. My own rather fat nine and a half incher was scratching somewhere in the area past his tonsils. We each had several days of ECB and had to drain that away. I love to drain a boy of his excess cum buildup—ECB—then work on draining him down fully so that he can completely recharge himself for another day. I think that by doing a complete drain down he is more able to enjoy a refreshed recharge, or some such shit. Whatever tickles your fancy, I just want to drink all the young boi cum I can get.
    His skin looked much better and the redness was almost gone. The tenderness of the rash had gone and he was comfortable with being touched. I was comfortable touching him and I wanted to touch him deeply. He got on his back and told me that I wasn't one of his mother's johns, I was his lover. He wanted me to take him like a lover and bare back. I could handle that, I did. He was so tight and warm and…you read about all that shit in every body else's fantasies. I'll tell you that Cory was fine. Our union was one of passion, but a passion built on a day's knowledge of each other. A passion of trust and yes of love. I made as soft and as tender love as I could. I wanted this to be good for both of us and it was.
    Morning found us on the road again. We hit the old truck stop for fuel, not for Traveler©, human fuel, food, then moved on down the road fleeing the rising sun. For the heck of it we decided to go see where the Cherokee lived. We got into Oklahoma by mid day and headed north through what had at once been the Cherokee Reservation. It's all privately owned now having been taken away from the Indians through one scheme after another. It was beautiful country and we found a nice river to park next too and set up camp.
    For no particular reason we were sitting on the river bank fishing. Cory seemed to be enjoying himself so I just relaxed. He got a good strike and pulled in a very nice two, or more, pound small mouth bass. A voice from the woods said, "Nice catch, boy." We turned to see an old Indian man standing there watching us.
    We asked him to join us and we talked until late in the evening. We had four good sized bass that I cooked over an open fire. We had fresh greens from the fields around us and a wild root that cooked up much like a potato. We told our new friend about our genealogy and he told us that many people claimed to be Cherokee, I agreed. I told him about men I had met that had no more Cherokee blood in them than the rocks of the land we stood on. Then I told him that my ancestors had made the Trail of Tears. They had started out in Georgia and had been herded like livestock through one of the harshest winters on record. He knew the story, of course, but he didn't know me. I got up and went inside Traveler©, then returned with an old family Bible, I carefully laid it on the table and opened the fly leaf. There were recorded birth and death dates back to 1827. The Bible was in German and had belonged to my Great Great Great Great grandmother.
    The Bible chronicled the history of my family from her baptism through marriage and birth to me. When the old man saw the names he asked me questions. He was my cousin not that very much removed. He in fact was my multi-great grandmother's grand nephew. I won't even try to put a name to that relationship. It was enough that he knew of my family and our history. I was overjoyed. He complimented me on my fine son and how I had kept the blood line. I told him that we were gay and didn't know each other before two days ago. He laughed long and hard. He told me that there were many squaw men in our family line and to not be ashamed.
    He told us that he was old and alone. His sons were too old and his grandsons too young to service an old man and he needed someone to be with as is the way with many cultures. I told him that my grandfather had taught me these customs and I had been glad to serve him until I was fourteen and he died. (A note here, it was hand jobs only with my grandfather, I did not learn about the other stuff until I met Charley when I was fifteen, almost sixteen.) Cory understood what we were talking about and said he would gladly take care of any needs that might arise. The old man wanted to do it outside so we compromised, Cory and I put up an eight man dome tent in just a few minutes.
    Cory came inside in just over an hour, he took a shower and asked me to join him. He told me that the old man would have been happy with a hand job, but he wanted to do more for him. He felt a kind of "kindred spirit", as he put it. Cory sucked the old man off and he had the curse. He may be Cherokee, but he said he thought he had some Choctaw blood in there too. Cory nearly choked to death when the soft cock he had been sucking on finally went hard deep in his throat. He said that it was a true keeper, at least ten inches long and nearly as thick. The old man shot such a load as Cory was not expecting, but he made it good for the old man.
    When the man's cock didn't go soft Cory mounted him and lowered himself on to the full length of his massive pole. He said he was glad that I had fucked him during the afternoon when we first got there or he wouldn't have been able to handle all that the old man gave him. He rode the red pony for a long long time and felt the man release years of pent up emotion in his climax.
    Cory was a typical teenage horn ball so we got in bed. He gave me the greatest blow job I have had in ages, as I in turn nursed his fine young meat. We lay on our sides and suckled at each other like puppies on their mother's teats. I had my arm around him and buried three fingers in his still open hole. That was what Cory wanted as he began to suck me and bob on my knob with all the know how that five years of sucking an old prostitute's cast offs had endowed him. His fingers worked a number on my prostate and I couldn't contain myself any longer. I could tell he was at the edge so we both pushed to take the other with us and we filled each other with a creamy desert concoction that chef's around the world have been trying to duplicate for ages.
    Neither of us wanted to part. We lay there sucking the other's limp, sensitive dicks deeper into our mouths as we drifted off to sleep.
    Daylight came with a vengeance. The old man was up and stirring outside as the sun light found a crack between the curtain and the window frame so it could shine right into my eye. I got up with Cory hanging onto me for dear life as I led us to the pot. He pushed me to the shower and we both pissed together as we tasted each other's morning breath. I turned on the shower head to rinse our bodies and headed to the kitchen. Still naked I opened the door, the old man was naked too. "Got coffee going and everything's ready to cook for breakfast when you drag your sorry asses out of bed," he said.
    We found out his name was Steve. He didn't want to get into his "Fly's Over Fox, Under Eagle" Indian name. He said he was embarrassed. He was a retired lawyer, he said he wasn't good enough to be called an attorney so he stuck with the next best thing. He had worked several cases that had his curiosity up about Cory and wondered if we would be opposed to spending a few months here camping, hunting, and fishing. Cory jumped at it, he loved the outdoors and he wanted to learn what it was like for pleasure not because he had too.

    We had a great breakfast off of the land, I love to eat that way and I intend to do more of it. Steve had a small ranch down the road and he wanted us to park there, but he wanted us to share his small house with him. It was an older home, but not small by any means. He had built it with his dad right after the depression. His dad had money and a big family, work was scarce so he got some tribesmen to help build his bungalow for him. The house has twelve bedrooms, five baths, and quarters across the river for hired hands. Steve lived alone, his sons had left for greener pastures to find their fortunes. His two daughters took care of him, as if he needed a care giver.
    His youngest son had left home right out of high school, jobs were hard to find in the area. Two years later the boy had disappeared, about seventeen years before Cory and I stood before the man and heard his story. There had been a body found in an old rusted out, wrecked car in Kentucky a year earlier. The car was at the bottom of a ravine some two hundred feet below the roadway. A couple of hunters happened upon it and reported their find to the local police. The car was registered to Steve's son and he was waiting for the DNA reports on the identity of the sole occupant.
    The way Steve kept looking at Cory made me wonder if I might have stumbled into something here, I was mixed, but I had hopes for Cory's sake. As we toured the house Steve called me aside to look at pictures of his family. When I saw the picture of Cory I stopped dead in my tracks. Cory walked up behind me and looked over my shoulder. "When did you take my picture, Steve?" Steve pulled the picture from its' frame and turned it over. Cory Conway, age fourteen, ninth grade, 1983. Cory jerked and sat down on the floor. "My name used to be Conway, when I was little," he said. I made it to a chair before I fell down.
    Steve held the picture and cried. "He left here to take a job then he called me and told me he met a girl, said her name was Sandra, said she was the prettiest thing ever to come down out of the hills. I never met her, but he called me a few months later to tell me that she was gonna have his kid and he was going on to Washington to see about another job. He was sure he would get it and he would call me in two or three days. That was seventeen years ago yesterday. Yesterday he came home." He broke down in tears as he looked at Cory. Cory got up and put his arms around the old man and led him down the hall. I didn't see either of them until lunch time.
    Steve showed Cory and I to the kitchen and we threw sandwiches and soup together, we wanted to check out the little ranch. Steve had horses saddled for us and we rode all over the county. We stopped by his office in town where he took care of a little business then he took us to a clinic down the street. He told us he wanted DNA samples to see if he and I were related for sure and he wanted to see if possibly Cory could be his grandson. I really hoped he was it would be so good for Cory to belong somewhere, to have a name, to be somebody. I love him and I will always take care of him, but I wanted to find out.
    We got back to the ranch. Cory wanted to brush the horses and put them away. He and Steve went to the barn and I grabbed my spinning rod and headed for the river that ran across the east side of the property. I found a nice soft tree to lean against and decided to put a cork on my three hundred dollar spinning rig and take a nap. I don't know how long I was out. I felt Cory shaking me and pointing at my line. He was laying beside me shirtless with his shoes off with his bare feet dangling in the water. My cork was under water and my rod was bending under the weight of something on the line. I reeled in my catch to find a nice one and a half pound large mouth bass. I hooked it onto my stringer and tossed it in the water then lay my rod down to talk to Cory.
    "I want to sleep in Traveler© with you." I nodded okay. "I just want to be alone with you. I want to get to know you. I…" a tear formed in the corner of his eye, "I think that I am in love with you."
    "What if you are Cory Jr?"
    "I know. I would like to be, but I want you too. I have kinda gotten to…well…you know. I like you. That's not right, I really like you a lot. I know we haven't done much, but you are kind and I feel like I know your heart. I want to know all of you."
    "Hey!" We turned to the voice. Steve was on the porch heading toward us. I got up as Cory put on his shoes. "Sit still, boys. Just wanted to tell you that some of the relations is coming out. We're gonna burn a cow or two and drink firewater till dawn. Want you two to know you're welcome.
    "Cory, son, I didn't mean to scare you with them pichurs and all, Jest seein' ya standin' there. I can't get over it. But you, you're your own man. You do what you want, okay? I jest want to tell ya that there's plenty of rooms for ya. I would like ya to sleep in the house and I don't care if ya sleep together. And, Cory, you don't have to do anything with me, ever again. I thank you for last night boy and I'll always be beholdin to ya." He turned to go back inside.

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