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. "The Cherokee people are tall, erect and moderately robust; their limbs well shaped, so as generally to form a perfect human figure; their features regular, and countenance open, dignified, and placid, yet the forehead and brow are so formed as to strike you instantly with heroism and bravery; the eye, though rather small, yet active and full of fire, the iris always black, and the nose commonly inclining to the aquiline. Their countenance and actions exhibit an air of magnanimity, superiority, and independence. Their complexion is a reddish brown or copper color; their hair, long, lank, coarse, and black as a raven, and reflecting the like luster at different exposures to the light. The women of the Cherokees are tall, slender, erect and of a delicate frame; their features formed with perfect symmetry; the countenance cheerful and friendly; and they move with a becoming grace and dignity."
Around 1809, impressed by the talking leaves of written language, Sequoyah began work to create a writing system for the Cherokee language. After attempting to create a character for each word, Sequoyah realized this would be too difficult and eventually created characters to represent syllables. Sequoyah took some ideas from a so-called Bible Book, which he studied for characters to use in print, noticing the simplicity of the Roman letters and adopting them to make the writing of his syllabary easier. He couldn't actually read any of the letters in the book, so it is especially impressive that he came up with such a well-developed system. He worked on the syllabary for twelve years before completion, and dropped or modified most of the characters he originally created. The rapid dissemination of the syllabary is notable, and by 1824, most Cherokees could read and write in their newly developed orthography. I know what it is to hate. I hate those white soldiers who took us from our home. I hate the soldiers who make us keep walking through the snow and ice toward this new home that none of us ever wanted. I hate the people who killed my father and mother. I hate the white people who lined the roads in their woollen clothes that kept them warm, watching us pass. None of those white people are here to say they are sorry that I am alone. None of them care about me or my people. All they ever saw was the color of our skin. All I see is the color of theirs and I hate them.
RD had moved against me and I cradled him as we listened to Cory's poignant tale. All of us were deeply moved to the point of silence. We arose and went to our beds. I was pleased to see Roddy take RD's hand and lead him to his bedroom to sleep with him and Dane. I didn't want to think of the boy being alone after hearing a story as hard as the one that Cory had just shared with us.
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 tfe TSAIAGI names in this story. This font is included in thfull version Send an e-mail for it .
I awakened to the unrelenting stare of my great love. I had spent the perfect evening with my sons, and none of us had sex. Dane was the only person in the house to whom I am not related in some way, but he has become an integral part of Roddy and therefore of the blood family. RD, Cory, and I have no problem allowing Dane to be a part of our family time. Roddy's eleventh birthday was only ten days away with Dane's big number eleven to follow a month later.
The five of us sat on the deck of the woodland cabin and enjoyed the moon as it played over the small lake that Cory had made for our pleasure. RD was without any physical attachment for the evening. He had gotten plenty of that from Tracy earlier in the day. I wanted RD to be comfortable alone so Cory and I did not even snuggle together. Dane picked up on our solitude and kept his distance from Roddy, while remaining at the boy's side throughout the night.
I let Cory tell us the story of the Tsalagi people and their plight through the years. The man amazes me. He spent less than three months at Chief Steve's side, but he learned much. When Chief Steve moved to Tucson to die near his grandson Cory learned more. I suppose that he has learned much from Sagi and of course Beulah is a wealth of tribal knowledge. I learned from him that evening. RD hung on every word as he showed great interest in a side of his bloodline that he had never suspected to exist.
RD had asked me before and I told him that Cory could explain the meaning of the term, Trail of Tears. Roddy pulled close to Dane who wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and held him close. I steeled myself for a story that makes the white man in me ashamed of my blood and the Indian in me boil with hatred. Cory quietly told the story as Chief Steve had related it to him as the two of them sat by the banks of the very stream where Cory had now built a lake and a cabin.
White trappers were the first to venture into Tsalagi territory in the 1500s. The English first had contact with the Cherokee in 1654. The tribesmen were fascinated by the gruff, fur wearing men with the white skin. Trade developed between the trappers and soon many white men came into the fertile valley of the innocent people.
One of the earliest English accounts comes from the expedition of James Needham and Gabriel Arthur, sent in 1673 by fur-trader Abraham Wood from Fort Henry (modern day Petersburg, Virginia) to the Overhill Cherokee country. Wood hoped to forge a direct trading connection with the Cherokee in order to bypass the Occaneechi Indians who were serving as middlemen on the Trading Path. The two Virginians did make contact with the Cherokee and by the late seventeenth century, traders from both Virginia and South Carolina were making regular journeys to Cherokee lands.
Much of the early trading contact period has only been pieced together by colonial laws and lawsuits involving traders. The trade was mainly deerskins, raw material for the booming European leather industry, in exchange for European technology trade goods such as iron and steel tools (kettles, knives, etc), firearms, gunpowder, and ammunition.
The Cherokee were eager to learn more of the white man's ways and set about to improve their lot to entice more trade. The Cherokee refer to themselves as Tsa-la-gi—pronounced Zah la gee or Tsa lah gee in the eastern Giduwa dialect. Also pronounced ja-la-gee in western dialect, literal translation: Principal People. The word "Cherokee" may have originally been derived from the Choctaw trade language word Cha-la-kee.
—R. C. Pritchard, Researches into the Physical History of Mankind (Volume V, 1847), p.403-4
The Cherokee were offered paper treaties by the white man. Every paper treaty was shortly changed until one day… The white soldiers surrounded the valley where the Cherokee lived. They began at one end and marched through the valley sending the Indians ahead of them and began to herd them like cattle.
Despite a Supreme Court ruling in their favor, many in the Cherokee Nation were forcibly relocated West, a migration known as the Trail of Tears or in Cherokee Nunna Daul Tsunny—The Trail Where They Cried—and by another term Tlo Va Sa—The Tragedy. This took place during the Indian Removal Act of 1830—although as of 1883, the Cherokee were the last large southern Indian tribe to be removed. Even so, the harsh treatment the Cherokee received at the hands of white settlers caused some to enroll to emigrate west.
Samuel Carter, author of Cherokee Sunset, writes: "Then… there came the reign of terror. From the jagged-walled stockades the troops fanned out across the Nation, invading every hamlet, every cabin, rooting out the inhabitants at bayonet point. The Cherokees hardly had time to realize what was happening as they were prodded like so many sheep toward the concentration camps, threatened with knives and pistols, beaten with rifle butts if they resisted."
Every man, woman, and child was directed down the valley to wagons waiting to take them away to a new land. A land that nobody wanted, not even the white man. To a person, the Cherokee refused to ride. The white soldiers tried to force them into the wagons, but the Cherokee refused to ride.
As the sky grew bright above them the Cherokee walked. Mouths shut, eyes full of hatred for another broken treaty, the Cherokee walked.
Many weeks passed and still the Cherokee walked. Never a word was said as they walked under the threat of the guns of the white soldiers. At first it was the very old then the very young; they began to die. The soldiers allowed the Cherokee to stop and bury their dead. As the march to the west continued on the Cherokee became sick and weakened. Death became a common occurrence.
The soldiers no longer wanted to stop for the Cherokee to bury their dead, but pushed on. They told the Cherokee to place their dead on the wagons. The Cherokee refused to ride, they picked up their dead and walked. Father carried son. Father carried mother. Brother carried little brother or little sister. They never spoke, they walked. They carried their dead, every family had their dead. They walked. They never spoke a word, they walked.
The white man heard of their forced march and came to stand along the side of the road to watch them walk. They saw the children carrying their dead. They saw the families carrying their dead and they cried. The white man shed tears as they watched the Cherokee people being forced to march. Their tears named the march the Trail of Tears.
Another Cherokee, this time a child called Samuel Cloud turned 9 years old on the Trail of Tears. Samuel's written memory is retold by his great-great grandson, Micheal Rutledge, in his paper Forgiveness in the Age of Forgetfulness. Micheal, a citizen of the Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma, is a law student at Arizona State University:
I slept soundly as Cory spooned against me and wrapped his arms around me in a reassuring manner that I needed. I have come to rely on Cory for strength more and more often. I am a little embarrassed by the fact that I find human weakness and frailty within me. But then again those weaknesses and frailties are what makes me need my man. I am blessed to have him in my life.
The cabin is sheltered from the direct morning sun so the blinds are not drawn over windows along the eastern wall of the bedroom. Cory situated the bed so that we can lay together and look out on the majestic view of the lake nestled between the tall hills. The serenity of the scene is a blessing in itself.
Cory's face was only a hair's width away from mine as my eyes locked on his beauty in the early morning hours. "Let's not shower, but let's walk out to the hot spring for a mineral bath before we start our day." I was up for that in an instant. It was my birthday and I had no plans for anything but to relax and enjoy my sons and my husband for the entire day. If he wanted to go sit on the moon I would have gone with him.
The pathway from the cabin to the nature fed pool is covered with compressed stone dust. Cory had natural stones from the land pulverized into the finest grains and tamped into a free flowing path that winds its way through the flora and fauna of the dense forest. I find that the sensation of walking on the stone dust is akin to walking on sand. However, it does not shift and is as firm as concrete. I suppose that walking on molten glass with Cory would be exotic to me.
By the time we arrived at the pool we were both up for action. Cory was headed for the water when I took his hand and pulled him to the grass covered bank that sits alongside of the small stream that drains the overflow from the spring fed pool. Even in the heat of the late June morning steam was rising from the water. The natural minerals in the water worked their magic to clear my sinuses and senses. The strong aroma did a magic rise to parts between our thighs and we were up for whatever would cum our way.
Cory has a great talent in his kisses. I could actually see myself lip locked on the man for the rest of my days on this side of the grass and never tire of the sensations that he sends throughout my body. In a hot embrace we fell to the ground and enmeshed our bodies into one. I enjoy feeling Cory grind his manhood against mine, but I wanted to be careful not to go too far that morning. I wanted Cory's main member inside of me and I longed to taste his sweet offering before anything else went into my body.
We have been together long enough that we know each other's perversions and desires. With no words spoken we were turned in opposite directions as we paid oral homage to the totem that each of us had erected. We had no plans and no obligations as we leisurely nursed each other, backing off and letting the other calm down before the inevitable explosion occurred.
I derive as much pleasure out of being digitally stimulated as I receive from a digital to anal exploration of my partner. You have read in these pages before about how I open a boy's world with my fingers while at the same time I suckle him to a mighty release. Cory can move me in the same way that I move others. His fingers are long and slender, with joints that hit that special spot in a man just right. He was moving me to the point of needing his larger member inside of me.
It was not in Cory's plans to enter me. He wanted to take me, all of me, all day long. All day long was not on the agenda. Roddy slipped up and awakened us with some sad news. The sister and brother-in-law of Amadahy–a%ch–had been killed in a car wreak the evening before. They left behind a fifteen year old boy by the name of Shikoba—feather.
Feather and his parents lived in the Anitsata village where Amadahy and Tequasi–8QR–had lived. Shikoba's mother was the sister of Tequasi's mother and the two boys had grown up together. Tequasi had left that village to live in Chief Steve's house, but he never lost contact with his cousin and spent as much time as he could with him. After Chief Steve passed away Tequasi and Amadahy lived together as father and son until I spirited Amadahy away to cook for my family in Tucson. Tequasi had returned to live with his aunt and uncle.
Cory and I called Amadahy for the details and learned that the family would gather on Friday, June 27, for the funeral. In the time being my boys had a birthday celebration planned for me.
My birthday was a quiet celebration at the cabin then the boys and I rode our horses down to Sagi's mother's house for a celebration with the wives. I was pensive as I thought about how interrelated my life is with the tribe. I thought that if I continued sniffing around I would find myself related to everyone in the village. Is that because of inbreeding? Actually that is not the case, it is just that there are many children's childern's children. All of them from a few common ancestors.
I am not the only one that never gives up on a scent however. After I had lunch with Mrs. Howell during our Christmas trip to Tulsa, Andy had been curious. He began to check into everything to see what he could learn; he learned plenty. He had made friends with Mabel Howell, Sean's grandmother and once she warmed up she didn't shut up.
I was unaware of ever knowing Carl Dickson except on a professional level. I knew his son Tom, both from a few meetings at the Blues Club and as a guest at parties that Charley threw where he showed up with his boyfriend, Andy. I had known Tom's wife when she was a little girl living with her parents in a house across the street from my maternal grandmother in Tulsa, but I never knew that she and Tom had married until both of them were dead and their son Sean was living in my house.
How did Tom and Cheryl meet? Why did my dad and Carl never speak about one another to me? Where did I get the name of Christopher, was it from Chief Steve's uncle, my maternal great-grandfather, Christopher Stevens; or was it from my paternal grandmother, the daughter of Roul Christophe? Or maybe a combination of the two?
Carl Dickson was born and raised just a few miles from the Howell's home in Tulsa. I learned that Carl was a pretty wild kid that loved his booze and a good time; my dad was always the pious one. When I was about three years old the entire family had gathered for an old fashioned family reunion. Carl got drunk and began to talk out of turn. One thing led to another and I understand that the two men came to blows. The family blamed my dad for starting it, but he walked away and I never saw my grandparents on his side again. Now I will have to find out if any of them are still alive.
Carl's work transferred him to Tucson when Tom was twelve. Carl never looked dad up and I am not aware that my dad knew that his cousin was anywhere nearby. Tom and Cheryl had gone to grade school together and became sweet on each other. On the family visits back home Tom and Cheryl were always pitted together, then when she finished high school the girl moved to Tucson to be near to Tom.
Tom was afraid of his dad learning that he was gay so he married Cheryl, and all was well until homosexuality reared up in the family. First Carl went to prison for having sex with seventeen year old Benjamin Bosque. That caused a rift that shattered the entire family.
Shortly afterwards Cheryl divorced Tom on suspicions that she had of his involvement with a neighbor boy, fourteen year old Eddy Dickson. To anyone's knowledge she had no concrete evidence of her husband being involved in child sexual abuse but she was not comfortable raising two youngsters of her own around the man that was very friendly to such a young child. She figured 'like father, like son.' One could argue that she was being paranoid but the facts are that Tom had engaged in oral sex with the boy.
Tom knew Charley from trips to the mountainside home when he was a boy in high school. After he was divorced from Cheryl, Charley learned that Eddy's mother had cancer. He worked with Tom and had him marry Eddy's terminally ill mother so that he could adopt the boy and raise him himself.
Tom sat down with his father and his son as he confessed his life to the man. Carl embraced Eddy as his grandson and forced the boy to grow up and make something of his life. In the meantime Sean was being sheltered from his perverted father and lived an unknowing life with his mother, Cheryl, and younger sister, Heather.
All of this information only deepened my desire to know more about a side of the family that I had been kept away from for all of my life. I am very happy to embrace Sean as my cousin and I have made it known to Eddy that he is family as well. Of course since Andy was Carl's wife then he is an aunt to me. That got me dirty stares. If he could, Andy would have tried to run me down, but he has run with me around the neighborhood and he knows that he couldn't catch me on my worst day.
The house was not quite what I expected. Really, how can one expect what another person lives in? When I walked through the front door I recognized it at once though. I have a picture of that room and of my family around me as Carl Dickson sat with me in his arms and my dad sat beside him on the very sofa that I was seeing sitting under the same window. Just as it was in the picture.
Nana Dickson waved me to a seat near her and I looked into very old and tired eyes. Somehow the back of my mind was telling me that I knew this old woman and that she loved me before I knew how to stand up to pee. The cute little girl came in with a tray bearing a cup of coffee, a sugar bowl, cream, and a sweet roll on a small plate. She giggled at me and flitted from the room as softly as a breeze.
"Ah ain't gonna tell ya thet it been easy boy. Life is hard in da best 'o times. I got Alvin and the Chipmunk to rear up end ah cain't do it no more. My time on this here earth is all but over now. I don't knows as how I will see them two get off to school this year.
"Ah hear thet you got that school for them boys and thet you treats 'em real good. I don't got many friends, but the ones I do got all tells me 'bout the man you growed up ta be."
Talk about not wasting time, the old woman had something to say and she wanted to get it said before her time was up. I could understand that, but you are probably lost so I will step back and fill in a few blanks. I received a phone call, well two in fact. First of all Mabel Howell called me. I was surprised by her call, but her message struck me like a shot. I called Andy at once.
Andy had been digging with his nose and he had unearthed more than I had ever expected. He was holding all of his information close and was not going to reveal anything to me until I needed to know. Suddenly I found out that I needed to know. I had thought that Carl Dickson and I were distant cousins somewhere; Andy informed me that he was my father's estranged brother.
As Andy laid out everything that he knew my call waiting tone sounded. I looked at the name of Thomas Dickson and told Andy who it was. He told me to answer the call to learn what I didn't know. The voice at the other end sounded as if it came down from the ages past. It was a very pleasant voice that inspired peace within me. I listened intently and agreed to drive into Tulsa the next morning for a face to face visit.
"Chris boy, I coulda kilt yer daddy and yer uncle. Them two went to feuding and the rest 'o us suffered. I never got to see ya so much. Yer granny was kind to tell me 'bout ya when ya came ta visit wid 'er and ah did git to see ya from time to time. But lawdy boy, you have growed up ta be a fine lookin man.
"Now 'bout my call to ya. Mabel was my grandboy's in-law. She's a fine lady and don't 'ave so much ta do wid me none, but she did hep me find you to take care 'o my problem thet ah got 'ere. It's dem grandkids, Chris boy. They's all too young to be on der own and all so I want you ta take 'em.
"Chris, me and you is 'bout all dat dey got in dis world. Dere ma was a ner-do-well no count, but she fed 'em and kept 'em well I spose. Anyhow she's gone now and dey's my job to rear. Chris, dey's good boys whut need a firm hand to keep 'em in line. I's been up ta da doc man and he tells me dat my ticker gone ticked out and ah got to git dem boys settled down or I swear I won't rest in mah grave."
We talked until late in the afternoon, but being Wednesday night meant that she would be going to church.
A friend stopped by a little before five and a cute kid about eleven years old ran out dressed in slacks and a nice shirt. He picked up his Bible and one for his grandmother and gave me a toothy smile. I knew at once that I was looking at Chipmunk. The boy's front teeth were as wide as his nose, and stuck out about half of the length of that near visitor to his young mouth.
I could see a strong resemblance to myself, RD, and Sean. The boy was full of Dickson genes. In other words he was cute enough to grab up and squeeze till he squealed. He was too young for anything else, but the way he looked then he was going to keep me lustful a few years down the road.
Nana left me alone in the house. I had been shown to a room where I would spend the night. With the humidity and the temperature being about the same high number I could use a shower. I stripped down and pulled on an old pair of cotton gym shorts in the event that someone would come home. I stepped across the hall to the open door of the bathroom and froze dead in my tracks.
Sitting on the bathroom lavatory was the girl who was not equipped like a girl. A very well endowed young man sat with his ass in the lavatory. He had the handle of an electric toothbrush in his hand and he was fucking himself like a horny teenager. The thing that really caught me by surprise was the fact that he had his hand around a cock that was about five inches long and pointed at his face. He was sending forth a solid stream of yellow body water that was aimed directly into his mouth.
I did not make a single sound as I moved in front of him. The look on his face was one of pure bliss as he sat with his eyes closed fantasizing of whatever was on his mind. I interrupted his warm drink as I moved over his cock and engulfed it. I pushed onward and moved his hand away with my mouth as I placed an arm around his small body and held him in place.
He was frightened and tried to pull away, but I kept on through the final part of his urination. I had missed most of what he had to offer and only received four or five ounces of hot boi pee before his stream ended. I was not finished with him.
I had taken over the duties of his right hand as I continued to pump the toothbrush in and out of his ass and slid his entire cock into my mouth. As if by magic his cock lengthened and stiffened to a nice six inches. Once his cock was firmly entrenched in my mouth I removed the toothbrush and let my fingers take over its duty.
From the sounds coming from him he was enjoying himself. He was pushing forward as he tried to get closer to me. I knew that he had a have a faucet set digging into his precious back and I wanted to help him get away from it, after my late afternoon snack. We did manage to get him moved over to a wide part of the cabinet where he could set on a flat surface.
He popped his nut in short order as I prepared to give him the real thing. His ass was not as tight as one would suppose for a boy so young, but then he had been giving himself a randy fuck with a five inch diameter toothbrush handle. I was about to find out how he could handle six inches around.
As quickly as his orgasm drained him I removed my fingers and used them to direct my cock at his glory hole. His eyes widened as he looked at my cock, but the smile that filled his face told me that he was ready to give it the old hard try.
He moved himself closer to the edge of the cabinet as he pulled his knees to his chest then looped his arms behind his knees to keep his legs back and his ass open. My cock made its entrance smoothly and easily. From the way the boy approached me he was no stranger to anal sex. He proved to be eager and responsive as I fucked him with the power fuck that I usually reserve for more seasoned partners.
I had a pair of strong young arms around my neck and sweet boi kisses all over any part of me that he could reach. And I didn't object to a single part of our union. I felt his body stiffen and knew that he was in the throes of a strong orgasm.
I leaned back a bit and thrust my pelvis forward, driving every inch of my cock deep into his willing hole. I began a long fast power fuck that sent him on a trip through the stars, if his ejaculation was any indicator. The average ejaculation is said to be about a teaspoon full. That is wrong and I have whole schools of cum machines located around the globe that can prove it. My little fuck angel was proving it as three thick ropes of cock snot ranged down his body from his nose to his chest.
There were many other streaks of the sweet juice of youth on his body and a lot of large drops as his cock swung from side to side under my unyielding assault of his hindquarters. Cum was flying through the air with reckless abandon as his head lolled back and forth and his eyes disappeared to white. His mouth hung slack as drool rolled down his chin and completely unintelligible gibberish emitted from his vocal chords.
Fucking in a hot, humid atmosphere is a new trick to me. Sure, Cory and I had been fucking in the woods, like rabbits—for two weeks already. But fucking in the confines of a small bathroom located in the center of a closed up house concentrated the heat. The thought crossed my mind that people who live in this sort of environment probably don't get a lot of fucking done; they are too busy swimming in their sweat.
I was sure swimming in my own body's saltwater. I was discovering sweat pores in parts of my body that I did not know that I could sweat from. I could only assume at that point that I had been fucking Alvin, but whoever it was he was soaked with more than his golden water by the time I grasped the front of the lavatory cabinet to steady myself and draw in a massive lung full of air.
The air was ripe with the smell of our sex. That only succeeded in re-stiffening my resolve, but one look at the boy and I knew that it was shower time. No, he didn't need a shower so much to clean him, but to revive him. He was purely fucked out.
His words were still gibberish. His eyes had not yet focused. His tongue hung from his mouth as he panted like a puppy. My lust level moved into the upper four digit range. Most sweet young and hungs keep me on the upper end of a lust scale of one to ten. There have been many that get me into high three digits. To borrow a title from Orville, my fabulous four send me to heights above any scale.
Cory, Cullen, Chrisy, and Jimmy fuck every part of me. My mind is a turmoil when I am with those boys, and they know it. They know that they could ask of me anything and it would be theirs, forever. I wish that I could go away with just the four of them, and of course Roddy and RD too—I can't think of the day when I won't have my own sons with me.
Chrisy and Timmy were away from me for a few months as they celebrate their honeymoon with a trip to England. Cullen and Jimmy were also off to merry old England as the Queeing spent time with mummy, my sister Eloise. That left me with Cory and that should be enough for me, but I missed having my fabulous four nearby at all times. If what I suspected was about to happen then I would have a young cousin to fulfill my lusts.
I helped a very exhausted boy into the shower and received the appreciation from him that makes me love to love boys. Alvin came too under the warm spray of water as he yielded to my every move to cleanse and stimulate his firm, young body awake.
We stepped from the shower to the form of young Neal seated cross legged on the bathroom floor. "Didja fuck him? He's a good fuck, ain't he? He likes to have a bigun shoved up his butt all the time, I be glad when I get a bigun so that I can make him happy when I fuck him."
"Shut up, homo! Your mouth is running in high gear again. Keep flapping those lips and I know where I'll be sticking my cock."
I took a towel and began to dry myself and listened to the two brother's banter and smiled inwardly. Both of them were cute enough to eat alive and their humor was as sharp as their appearance. I left the pair and returned to my room to dress then went in search of Nana. I found her puttering in her kitchen preparing a light repast for the evening meal.
"Sit yersef down, Chris boy." She busied herself at the stove as she stirred a large pot of, what appeared to be, homemade chicken soup. The boys came into the kitchen and quickly set the table with the utensils for dinner. Alvin removed a loaf of hot bread from the oven as Neal set out butter and cold milk. Nana looked at me then into the refrigerator and told me that she may have some cold leftover meat, if I wanted it. I assured her that I was a light eater and that I preferred not to eat heavy meat so late in the day.
The table had been set with a boy to each side of me and Nana across from us. I knew that whatever was to come next had been discussed in detail between the three of them and that there would be no surprises. Even I was not surprised as Nana stated, matter of factually, her desires for the boys' future.
Nana's heart was tired and she was not a candidate for a transplant. I would have spent any amount of money to help my recently re-discovered grandmother. I wanted to grab the frail lady up and hold her in my arms. Deep inside I remembered her holding me. I was four or five years old when the picture was taken in her living room where I sat in Carl Dickson's lap. I remembered sitting at the woman's table and eating her fresh fruit pies. I remembered her singing me to sleep. How could I have lost contact with her? How callous am I, really?
Nana is eighty one years old. She told me that she had lived a full life and was content to go to her rest. She was happy to see me. Her life's dream had been to see her eldest surviving grandson before she died. I held her hand as I told her about RD. Her eyes brightened and she asked me if she could meet him. I learned that she had not seen Sean since his father's death and I wondered why she had not been at the funeral of her son and grandson.
For that matter, why had she not attended the funeral of my dad? I discovered something about little old ladies, they don't like to travel very far from home. She told me that she never forgave dad and uncle Carl for their feud. She told me that she had seen me from time to time when I visited my mother's parents. Then it occurred to me that she was often a guest at my grandmother's house when mom and dad drove us back for a visit.
My mother buried my dad in Tucson. Why weren't his remains returned to Tulsa? I know the answer to that. My dad called Tucson home and he wanted to be buried in a special plot that he had purchased many years earlier. Andy made the arrangements for Carl's funeral. I will have to question him about his choice of burial places.
I wanted to know if Nana knew about Eloise. I hesitated to mention her, but I learned something about the old woman, she knew. She didn't know that her great-grandson was the King of Munedavia. I knew that I had to arrange for a family reunion, and quickly. Nana grew excited when I told her that I would bring El and Cullen to see her. I told her that Sean was in Europe with his schoolmates, but that RD was with me at Tahlequah. I told her about Rodney and Cory Stevens and I promised her that she would see them. I worried that I might be planning too much for her, but she should see her children before she leaves this world. Her children should see her.
Neal led her to her bedroom while Alvin led me to mine. Alvin told me that Nana likes to have Neal help her into her dressing gown and into bed at night. I was not about to break their tradition. I asked Alvin where the chipmunk would sleep and he told me that both of them wanted to sleep with me, if that was alright. I had to think about it, for a billionth of a second.
I had a lot of explaining to do to my two young cousins. Alvin knows that he is homosexual, but Neal is not sure about himself. I pointed out that neither boy had any real experience to draw from and that any titles at the time would only be conjecture. Alvin told me that he knew, he had been having his thoughts for almost three years.
I asked him to tell me his thoughts. He had all of the unhealthy fantasies of a boy lusting after other boys, and they were fairly deep rooted fantasies. Neal told me about a boyfriend that Alvin had and how he had wanted to do things with the boyfriend. I asked him what sort of things he wanted to do and he told me that he wanted to kiss the other boy and hold him tight throughout the night. To the other boys credit he avoided Neal's request, but I knew that it was only a matter of time before Neal would find someone to love him.
A hard dick has no conscience. Alvin had allowed Neal to blow him and he enjoyed a hot sixty nine with his little brother. Both boys told me that they had slept together since they were quite young. Their mother was often high on drugs or drink and they clung to each other for solace. That was a story that I have heard from many of the boys in my house. I wanted to know more about my aunt, but I felt that there would be time enough for that later.
Midnight in Oklahoma is six o'clock in the afternoon in England. I telephoned El and told her of our grandmother's health. Of course she would come. She had often asked her mother for information about our father's family, but had never received an answer. I called Sean and he wanted to come at once. He knew his Nana and had missed her deeply. I will have to ask him why he never mentioned her to me.
I waited until morning to call RD. Actually I wanted Ugitsiha to come to Tulsa to meet my grandmother and to let Nana meet her youngest great grandchild. Cory arranged transportation to bring my wife, baby, son, and step-son to a large reunion. I could not allow Cory and Sagi to stay behind, Cory is my life partner. He is who I am. Nana would have to meet him or all else would be a lie.
I didn't want to disturb the honeymoons of my loving couples that were off about Europe so I had Andy gather a crew for FI-2 to fly my family home. Andy reminded me that Dukey Philby would be a media sensation, were it known that he was flying into this country.
Of course King Cullen would be the center of a mob scene himself. The flight was made after dark and after landing in Tulsa the plane was taxied directly inside a hanger where the Royal family disembarked at one o'clock on Wednesday afternoon. June 25, 2008. I had flown my Escalade in for transportation and I was suddenly glad that I had done so.
There was no reason to take the armored vehicle to Oklahoma, but I have gotten to the point that I feel that my family is safer in the gas guzzling beast. I had driven that vehicle to Nana's house Tuesday afternoon and had it available to transport my little King and his family in total anonymity.
I had to explain myself to El and why I did not know of our paternal grandmother. I looked at Sean and asked him why he never mentioned her to me. Sean had no idea that she was my grandmother. He knew that she was his great-grandmother because he had visited her often. Because of the feud between my dad and Sean's grandfather he was not aware of any relationship to me. We had a lot of fences to mend.
We arrived back at Nana's house as RD and Cory were helping Ugitsiha from a stretch limousine. Cory had hired two of the long vehicles to deliver the women in comfort with RD, Roddy, and Dane riding in the second car by themselves. I was surprised that Quemela and Beulah had remained behind for this trip. Sometimes I feel that Beulah gets a little too paranoid over Ugitsiha's condition, even though I know how real the danger to her health the baby is.
Sean bolted from the caddy when he saw his grandmother and baby sister arrive. I had invited Mabel and Heather to be there because it was through her suggestion and help that Nana had learned how to get in touch with me. Actually, Mabel set Nana on Andy who put all of the pieces together and helped to make my family more complete. I wanted to invite Andy to come too. After all, he was Carl's love interest at the end of his life. Andy told me that he didn't want to sully Carl's memory by reminding everyone that the man was a homosexual with a very young lover. Andy is too sensitive.
Nana had the biggest thrill of all of us. She held my hand and told me that her life was complete. She had long wished to see me once more, but to discover that I had two beautiful sons to carry on the name of Dickson made her proud. She only wished that my grandfather Thomas had lived to see the boys. She made a big fuss over Roddy and told him that he was her favorite. Roddy's head swelled for a brief moment then he took me aside and told me that he knew that she was more proud of RD and Cory Stevens.
I told Roddy that he was the cement that held his two brother's together. I assured him that without him we would not have a complete family. I had my neck encircled with two strong young arms as I was told that I was the bestest thing that ever happened to him too. Ugitsiha smiled at us with tears in her eyes and patted her belly.
Ugitsiha and I have gone ahead with an ultra-sound of the baby. It was necessary to see that the fetus was developing properly and that it was not endangering his mother's health. Yes, it is a boy. Since I had only my blood family with me, plus Dane, I chose that time to make an announcement.
Nana was sitting on the sofa alongside Ugitsiha when I asked Cullen and Jimmy to sit at my wife's feet and face her. I slipped in next to my wife and looked into the eyes of my young nephew and his lover. "Family, we know that the baby is a boy and we have named him." I looked at Daylight and smiled at her.
"Dad loves you boys very much," Daylight began. "We have chosen to name our young ùdyi wahya Cullen James." The open jaws of both namesake boys hit the floor then a cheer went up from RD and Roddy. Cullen and Jimmy quickly joined in as they rose to their knees and laid their hands on Daylight's belly to see if they could feel the baby move about inside of her.
Nana doesn't like to go out much. Her church is about the only outside activity that she enjoys, and even that is for no more than an hour and a half at a time. I had called the local caterer that we had used over the previous Christmas holidays, before we hired our four permanent cooks. They brought in a repast of fresh cut fruits and vegetable and a terrific selection of hot breads to supplement their delicious bean soup.
Alvin and Neal wanted to know where the meat was and Roddy showed them. Nana laughed at him and told me that the boys would get along fine with each other. We let Nana direct the conversation. She was concerned about her two young grandsons. She told us how happy she was that I was in the position to take the boys. She had little hope before she had called Mabel, but their conversation had set her mind at ease.
I wanted something clarified in my mind. "Was your father's name Ralph Christopher?" It was. He had changed his name, Roul Christophe, to a more Americanized name. My name was a composite of family names. When Nana learned that my grandmother Sarah was descended from Christopher Stevens she suggested that I be named in honor of both families. I had often thought that it was unfair to my father that I should bear the name of the great Indian, but Nana's explanation showed me what a great diplomat she was. I looked at her and saw a twinkle in her eye and had my answer.
I learned that my cousin, Carl's son Thomas Allen, was named after our grandfather, Thomas Dickson, and Cheryl's grandfather, Butram Allen, Mabel's father. Heather told me that her mother met her father at a school dance and he swept her off of her feet. I had to smile at the romantic little girl's description of a fantasy that I am sure that she has added to with time.
When we were off to the side I asked Nana what she thought of the names of my two baby boys. She told me that the name choice showed the great esteem that I held for all three of the namesake boys. I really like my Nana and hope to have many years to get to know her. NIFTY to support their fine work.
After The Battle
All In The Family
Andy Finds Daddy
The Bus Trip
Bryn and Mell
Chris My Love
From 6 One
In The Locker Rm
Jasson & Jerrod
John and Me
Jordan and Ellis
Laney and Me
Lyle and Kyle
Mark and Lyle
Mitch and Carroll
My Bed Is Made
Pat and Me
The Phone Call
Rainy Day Ralphy
Rape of Rocky
Roby & Cowboy
Ryan and Jeremy
Swimming /w Steve
13 Year Old Daddy
Uncle Ed, Tommy, and Me
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.
"The Cherokee people are tall, erect and moderately robust; their limbs well shaped, so as generally to form a perfect human figure; their features regular, and countenance open, dignified, and placid, yet the forehead and brow are so formed as to strike you instantly with heroism and bravery; the eye, though rather small, yet active and full of fire, the iris always black, and the nose commonly inclining to the aquiline. Their countenance and actions exhibit an air of magnanimity, superiority, and independence. Their complexion is a reddish brown or copper color; their hair, long, lank, coarse, and black as a raven, and reflecting the like luster at different exposures to the light. The women of the Cherokees are tall, slender, erect and of a delicate frame; their features formed with perfect symmetry; the countenance cheerful and friendly; and they move with a becoming grace and dignity."
Around 1809, impressed by the talking leaves of written language, Sequoyah began work to create a writing system for the Cherokee language. After attempting to create a character for each word, Sequoyah realized this would be too difficult and eventually created characters to represent syllables. Sequoyah took some ideas from a so-called Bible Book, which he studied for characters to use in print, noticing the simplicity of the Roman letters and adopting them to make the writing of his syllabary easier. He couldn't actually read any of the letters in the book, so it is especially impressive that he came up with such a well-developed system. He worked on the syllabary for twelve years before completion, and dropped or modified most of the characters he originally created. The rapid dissemination of the syllabary is notable, and by 1824, most Cherokees could read and write in their newly developed orthography.
I know what it is to hate. I hate those white soldiers who took us from our home. I hate the soldiers who make us keep walking through the snow and ice toward this new home that none of us ever wanted. I hate the people who killed my father and mother. I hate the white people who lined the roads in their woollen clothes that kept them warm, watching us pass. None of those white people are here to say they are sorry that I am alone. None of them care about me or my people. All they ever saw was the color of our skin. All I see is the color of theirs and I hate them.
RD had moved against me and I cradled him as we listened to Cory's poignant tale. All of us were deeply moved to the point of silence. We arose and went to our beds. I was pleased to see Roddy take RD's hand and lead him to his bedroom to sleep with him and Dane. I didn't want to think of the boy being alone after hearing a story as hard as the one that Cory had just shared with us.