Chapter torty nine


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 chapter 137
"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.

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.
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.

A strongly worded suggestion has resulted in this statement.

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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    Saturday morning Andy was at the house bright and early. He took Cory and Cullen and had room for two more. Trevor and Alec rode with him. The rest of us climbed into our two vans, one Jerry and Tim's the other was one that I had bought to get the boys around. We headed down to the school to let all of the singing boys get on the charter bus to Phoenix. That left Tim with just six people in his van, including himself. Just the right amount for a younger driver. I had the five college boys and the five newcomers with me. The new boys were students at another high school in town. I let Pete and Cas figure out who was going to drive and I sat back and enjoyed hearing my boys rattle. I was learning a lot from the recent group that would be helpful in the upcoming trials.
    I was surprised that, even though it was Labor Day weekend there was so little traffic on the freeway. We stayed right behind the bus, which gripes me no end, but it was probably the better place for me to be. I just hate following slow moving traffic and Cas knew that. He had the privilege of driving up and Pete was going to drive home.
    I was glad that the boys did not miss out on this contest. Their sweet voices rang through the auditorium so loud and clear. It was a taste of heavenly music to my wicked ears. Cullen's boy soprano voice rang out over the others with majesty. He was the hit of the entire day. I only wish that Andy hadn't made him look so goofy. The hair color was not natural and the glasses didn't fit. I only hope some sharp eyed individual didn't spot him on TV.
    There were some fantastic groups of boys there and the twelve boys from Woodrow Wilson held their own. They were the youngest group, being all sophomores. There was one all seniors group, but the rest of the chorales were made up of mixed ages. Our boys took third, which in my estimation was a real achievement for the competition they faced. I really believe that it was Cullen who won the spot for them. The soloists from the other groups just did not put the effort into their work. Cullen's backup was weak. There were two boys in the group that had no business being there. They couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, even if it was painted on the inside of the bucket. We got back to Tucson after dark. Andy and his passengers were already at the house.
    I was mobbed by my vocalists who wanted to know how they sounded. I pulled out my ever present recorder and uploaded it to the house sound system. Of course the quality was barely fair, but the boys heard how they sound from the audience's perspective for the first time ever. They wanted to be critiqued. I am no expert, I only know what I like. They kept after me as they tried to get me to bad mouth the two tone deaf boys. I finally looked at them and told them that they were wise enough to know where the weak links lay within their group and they needed to discuss their feelings with their teacher.
    The boys wanted to invite the other members of their group up for a swim and small celebration. Everybody dug through his stuff to find their long ago abandoned swim trunks, but let me tell you, when you look out to find twenty eight boys in the skimpiest of Speedos you wish you were wearing a suit of armor to hide your amorous standout. Four of our five visitors had gay leanings that were revealed almost at once. One of the tone deaf boys was a momma's boy. He was pudgy and whiney, He didn't get along with the other boys and when one of his buddies grabbed his goods he started to cry. He called his mother to come and get him and I was glad to say bye bye.
    The other four started off by kissing each other in private, but I made sure that they were caught. This led to embarrassment until the catcher copped a feel from inside the boy's skimpy swim suit. In quick succession all four boys had cocks in each end as they showed their powers. They had been talking all summer about all of my boys being in the fŗĩęñďş Çłųß and they wanted to join, but were afraid of being outed. They were outed amongst friends and they had a ball doing it. Two balls at a time and with many different varieties. I let Tim and Jerry take all of them home about seven thirty Sunday night, with Tim riding along to protect his lover. Of course I stayed away from the sexual trysts. The college boys remembered homework. We had to get those old enough for prison away from those young enough to provide us with a lifetime ticket. We found places to watch and drool, but took pleasure in each other.
    With all of this going on in our own house we had not had much time to keep up with the hurricane victims. It was worse than those in the know expected, but right on target to what the newscasters had been predicting for several days before landfall. Why don't people listen to their advisors? The part that blew my mind away is the slow response time from the government. Why weren't they there with food and water? Why were these people at the stadium without aid.
    Monday morning, Labor day, I sent seventy five tons of food and water by helicopter with orders to get it to the stadium and the people nearby. Five days later I learned that my choppers were on the ground in Beaumont, TX. They were not being allowed to fly into the disaster area. I ordered the pilots to get airborne and with a flight plan to take their cargo to South America. They were to get due south of Biloxi-Gulfport then fly due north. I wanted the food unloaded as quickly as possible and then I told my pilots to fly low and fast for our base in Mexico.
    Twenty tons of MREs and fifty tons of bottled water was set off at three o'clock in the morning in the parking lot of a shopping mall in Gulf Port, MS. Rescue people were notified five minutes before the landings. There were just a few people at the disembarkation point, but the supplies were left and my crews got out of the area with no one in pursuit.

    As devastating as the hurricane was I was still reeling from my recent bout with the parents of the latest five to join my household. I have had problems with all four of those men since my high school days and for some reason they seem to crop up ever now and again. I had defended Terry as a victim, but when Wilbur said that Terry was the one making the movies, then I saw the room in Richard's house I went off. All of these years and these men have been messing with little kids, their own sons even. I looked about the room at the boys I called my sons and tried to see a difference. I could, I don't know that others will or if the courts will. I didn't take innocent children and have sex with them I found gay youth in trouble and gave them a home. Oh, I pray that God judges me with mercy.

    I sensed something going on. I had a heart to heart with Chad. Richard, his father, had been fucking him and making him suck his cock since the boy was five or six years old. There had been another boy named Kyle, but he had moved away two years earlier. Richard had been giving both boys some kind of medicine when Kyle could spend the night and, "sometimes he gave us vitamin shots, down there, you know, to make us grow," the boy told me. I had him stand up. At fourteen years of age he had eight full inches of cock. He was a man after Christopher's record. I hate a tease and I had gotten him up so I had to get him off. He has that sweet teenage taste of innocense in his abundant ball juice. Yummy.
    I had a terrible feeling pass through my body. I jumped up and ran out of the house. I lit up the tires of my 442 and reveled in the throaty sound of the large throated four barrel carburetor as 419 huge horses sucked gasoline into the large engine. I pulled into the big circle drive in front of Isaac Koch's house. Mike Long opened the door, I walked right past him. "Chris, what the hell is going on. You have turned this town upside down with the bust of the Jones gang."
    "Jones gang? They may have followed Exiter in high school, but their little victim, Terry Anson, is calling the shots now." Isaac came into the room with a towel around his waist as he dried his hair with another. I ripped the towel from his body. What stood before me was the sixties something father of my very dear friend Randy His body was not that bad. He had kept in shape. A little sag at the lower belly, but not much. Like a good Jew he had a tight circumcision. His chest hair and pubes had more gray in them than black, but overall he was a handsome man.
    Mike moved beside his lover ready to defend him. "I want the absolute truth or so help me I will beat the shit out of both of you where you stand and I will see you in prison with chomo tattooed on your foreheads." (chomo a prison word for child molester) "What do you know about what that bunch was doing and when did you know it?"
    "Chris, I swear I, we, knew nothing about it until Jimmy Walker and Tom Byrd came by for dinner last night. They were in a meeting at school. There are some more victims and maybe some more perpetrators out there."
    "There are a lot of victims. There are over two hundred different movies featuring boys and girls. Some of those kids look like they are four or five years old." I crumbled. The two men grabbed me and put a straight chair under me. "I have twenty of their DVDs. They have been fucking their own children, on tape. Your brother, Isaac, your own brother, fucked the little guy that he and Richard were supposed to be raising as their son. They were molesting him since we was a babe. And Terry Anson and Tiffany were standing there with cameras filming the whole thing."
    Mike put a super stiff drink in my hand. Without thinking I chugged it. The alcohol hit me like a sledge hammer. I came alive. "Er, ah guys, I'm driving. Or are you trying to get me under the influence so you can have your way with me? I haven't had a drink in fifteen years."
    "You just needed to calm down, buddy. Don't worry, we'll take you home, with your chastity intact."
    "Hell, I lost that in your basement when I was fifteen years old. Your oldest son was thirteen and even he gave it up to old Charley that night." We all got a good laugh as we remembered the old days and the good times. We tried to figure who else might be involved with those movies. I wanted the kids free of that.
    Isaac told me that he had talked to Randy on his cell phone. He would be rotating home before Thanksgiving. That was good news. I really miss my old friend. All of the boys from high school seem to still be very much a part of my life. I was older than the Blues gang, per se, but they all considered me a part of them. They better, I put enough cum up their tight little asses that their first born know me as daddy. Bad joke.
    I finished the open can of coke that my drink had been mixed with, I took it neat, on ice. Isaac found his shirt and pants. He drove my Olds with the top down. He loved the car and wanted to buy it from me. I will have to think on that. My boys are of an age that they want their own cars and I only have so much driveway and garage space. Mike followed us up the hill. I had the men come in and meet my wild bunch. They were hard up to find words to speak. The boys were glued to the large screen TV in the new games room.
    When Isaac and Mike walked in the boys came alive. They had met the men and their sons one evening at a party for close friends. I won't have the kind of boy parties that Charley was known for. I love each of my boys and I don't like sharing. Those who attend my parties at my house have been in bed with me at sometime and I consider them part of the family.
    The boys had to show off their latest idea. It is called the golden pole pin award. The boys created the award for anyone that can ride my main member with ease and regularly. The golden pole pin is a tiny little gold penis shaped pin that they wear on the inside flap of the fly on their pants, that part of the fly that overlays the zipper or buttons. You would have to pull the cloth back to see the zipper so you could see the pin.
    I told the boys that Isaac and Mike had ridden me since before most of them were born and that they should have a pin. That brought the plotting head's of teenage boys into a huddle. They had no problem awarding the pin, but the bylaws that had been created with the pin clearly state that a council of at least three judges must witness the nominee achieve the prerequisite endeavor. Lord, what a mouthful that was for our smallest mighty midget with the giant widget to spit out. The men had no problem with satisfying the requirements. They thought the pin was pretty cool and they each wanted one.
    Isaac and Mike bid us adieu and headed out of the door. Several of the boys went to them to say goodbye giving the men their naked images to carry home with them. I told Cory to invite them up for a night of swimming and fun sometime soon. He groped each of them as he gave his invitation. Silly little sex pot.

    I couldn't sleep. I was so keyed up over what these people had done to their own sons. I knew they were ass holes sixteen years ago when we were in high school. How could I have let them go on to do this, to their own sons? I was in bed with all five of them. Their cute little naked bodies were curled around me and on me and next to me. I played my hands over their tender, innocent skin. They had done nothing to deserve any of this. Every once in awhile one of the boys would open his eyes and see me looking at him. He would crawl up on top of me and rapidly fall back into his peaceful slumber. Oh yes, let it be peaceful. I never want a single moment of stress in the lives of these little boys, ever again.
    The sun was about to rise. It was the close of summer, Labor day had come and gone. The boys had already started school, but the three day break made them a little lethargic so they were slow getting started that morning. I needed to get them off because this was the first day of classes at the university for my five oldest children. Oh they hate that word, but they are my children. I never wanted a woman in my life since sweet Marcy Long killed herself. She was one in a million, as far as dickless human beings go. I should have wasted that fucking Wilbur Jones then. He would not have been able to hurt his son, but I would probably still be in prison and would never had known his sweet child, or any of the others either.
    I had the TV playing as I cooked up whole wheat and oatmeal waffles with a variety of fresh, unsugared, fruits to top them with. I am overwhelmed by the destruction from the storms. So far I could not come up with a plan to help these people. As we sat eating our breakfast my boys gave me the answer. I have twenty two young men living in my house. Everyone of them, save Cory, come from strong, two parent, families. Yes, each family had a multitude of their own problems or the boys would not be with me. Still the same, the young men each had a core of knowledge from the stability that comes from a family unit. Their greatest asset is the fact that they all think fast on their feet.
    "Dad, look at the TV. What do you see?" I looked at all of destruction. Homes, lives torn apart. Jobs gone, no place to buy food, no place to cook it.
    "Daddy," Jimmy crawled up in my lap like a little lamb. He curled his lip at me and batted his eyes. A circle of boys had formed about my feet. "remember last year when Hurricane Francis hit my grandmother's house in Pensacola?" How could I ever forget it. "She lost everything that she owned. If it hadn't been for her sister…well she had no place to go. I tried to live with her, but I had a house and it was better for her to live with me.
    "Daddy, what I am saying is that those people need a new house. I heard a newsman say that they can't find building material or labor to build houses. Couldn't we go build houses?" WHAM. A fifteen year old kid just delivered the knock out punch. I reached for my laptop and my cell phone. I called three of the biggest lumber companies in the Pacific Northwest and bought several million board feet of lumber and plywood. None of the boys made it to school.

    I called Andy and told him that I could see the needs of a boy that I wanted to suck or fuck and I could give them a place to live so why shouldn't I go build houses for other people in need too. He sent five of his airplanes to pick up the wood. The biggest plane he had was a 737 that was in for a re-paint. I had an idea. I asked for a custom paint job, nothing fancy and it would only be temporary. He loved it. Together we worked late into the night to fill the plane with craftsmen and tools. Wednesday morning found the boys and me in a heavily guarded hangar at the Marana Air Field along with eighty five men. Our plane was painted flat black with large white script lettering that simply said, fŗĩęñďş Çłųß".
    We landed in Hattiesburg, Mississippi under extra NSA security and FAA scrutiny. We were an unscheduled flight with transponders telling the ATCs that we were a U.S. State department special air unit. That blew their minds, but it got us the clearances to go wherever we wanted. The name Andy Foss turned government red tape to green tissue paper at its very mention. The small airport in MI was not long enough for our plane, but we had one of the best combat trained pilots in the country at the stick. Awaiting our arrival was a convoy of buses for our people. Transport planes were coming in every few minutes to off load their cargo of lumber. My job is procurement. I stayed behind as the convoy took my boys to the battlefield.
    Andy had a helicopter on standby for me. I flew into Biloxi later that evening to find the boys had set up a command central. We had cooperation on every level, I was impressed. I had been watching the news and the incessant tales of the inability for anything to get done. The boys were teaming up with Andy's men, for work, playtime might come later, you can bank on that. The game was afoot and a neighborhood had been scouted for our assault.
    Of course the first thing to be done was to clear the debris from the area. Home owners were located and those homes were the first cleared. Cas, Luke, and Pete interviewed families as fast as they could run them through. Their insurance was checked. They were given forms to fill out to get federal funds. Tim and Jerry worked with four of Andy's men typing and assisting in filling out the paper work. Jimmy was up to his eyeballs putting all of the information into a data base. He made sure that I received an update every twenty minutes, exact. He brought each completed packet to me for review and my personal guarantee for payment for all work with repayment as their insurance and other forms of aid became available.
    Extra large helicopters were bringing in bull dozers and other earth moving equipment. Dump trucks floated through the sky as vehicles fell like raindrops into the area. We had established a beach head and a full frontal assault was under way without one active duty military mind in on the operation and very little governmental interference. The federal agencies in the area were still trying to figure out which was their foot and which was their hand.
    I headed over to a trailer that had been brought in to feed my people. Gerald had a staff of kids from a church that had come down. They were vegetarian and they were excited to learn that we had a vegetarian cook. We combined forces to feed our groups.
    I chuckled as I saw tiny Jay Farley trying to lift a circular saw up so that the man he was with could cut a board. Jeff, Mark, Evan, Chad, had each joined in with the others and everybody was working hard. By the end of the first day we had four homes cleared of the debris and had the place boarded up and secure.
    Our biggest break was a high school cafeteria. The school was a total mess and most likely would have to be demolished, but the large cafeteria and its kitchens were intact, more or less. The moment we landed Andy's front men told us of the break. We jumped on ATVs, the only sure means of transportation through the carnage, to see for ourselves. I sent bull dozers up the street as far as they could go, clearing a path and letting people know that hot food would be available by evening.
    The few windows that were broken were repaired. Large generators were brought in as well as propane for the stoves. Crews worked to convert the water heaters, stoves and ovens to the liquid fuel. Two large water trucks hooked up to the kitchen's water lines, we weren't sure about the safety of the local water supply at that time. A cursory cleaning of the dining area inside and total scrub down of the kitchen had the place ready for the cooks before noon. There had been no water or wind damage at all to the structure which pleased and surprised us.
    I contacted the powers that be to get food to the school for several thousand people. Helicopters brought in what was needed for dinner as roads were cleared so trucks could roll for the next day. Hot soup, bread, and fresh water doesn't seem like much, but when a person has eaten nothing in two or three days it feels like a banquet. My favorite accomplishment was fresh, whole milk for the children, and lots of it. I know a boy lover with a dairy farm that bottles a local label.
    One of my investors called from Florida. He had a warehouse full of oranges that were to have shipped to a fresh squeezed orange juice in a can company that was in rubble. He wanted to know if I needed them. He had two Chinook helicopters to load up two hours later. The people of Biloxi had fresh oranges in a funny shape, they didn't have a can around them. At least my commodity futures wouldn't suffer from a crop that couldn't get to market, but this had given me an idea. I called a coalition of growers in Washington that I worked with and was given eighty tons of apples. I had them loaded on top of the lumber in the planes already there. We just had to be careful to not overload anybody.

    Sunday morning, the fourth day of our work effort, Trevor and Alec brought me a very badly wounded boy by the name of Kyle Simpson. He stood before me, a battered and bruised boy about six foot tall with a very young boyish face. He was thin, but showed development beneath his tattered clothing. He had a nasty cut above his left eye which was swollen shut. There was a long cut on his right cheek which someone had duct taped a cloth over to contain the bleeding. He was having trouble walking and I could tell he was in serious pain. I called for the site doctor to come over at once. Then turned back to the young man.
    "Nice to meet you Kyle. My name is Chris Dickson. Your wounds look fresh, are they from the hurricane?" I asked as the boy carefully sat down showing great pain on his face. "For starters, there is no reason to be nervous Kyle. No one is going to harm you here. We are only here to help you and only if you want the help. Basically, all the decisions here are yours to make so just relax."
    "I got beat up last night. I am living on the streets trying to get by and…" he was getting angry. I was going to loose him so I changed gears and spoke very softly and directly to him.
    "How old are you Kyle?"
    "I am fourteen years and two days old sir," Kyle replied in a softer tone.
    "And how long have you been on the streets Kyle?"
    "I have been on my own for four months now sir," Kyle replied.
    "How have you survived on the streets for four months?"
    "Well sir, I have sex with men who pay me," Kyle candidly replied.
    "And do you realize how dangerous that is Kyle?"
    "How else am I supposed to get money to eat? I am not old enough to get a real job," Kyle said defensively.
    I leaned forward in my seat, "No one is judging you Kyle. Life on the streets is very hard and you do what you have to in order to survive. I just want to make sure you understand the risks you are taking," I tried to reassure the boy.
    "Yes sir, I know I could catch a disease or one of those men might hurt me." Kyle replied as a tear rolled down his cheek.
    "How did you come to live on the streets Kyle?" I asked.
    "My dad caught me sucking a boy's dick behind the garage at home. He slapped me around a bit and then kicked me out of the house saying "I will not have a queer in my home". So I walked away and never went back." Kyle answered, with a few more tears rolling down his cheek. "He found me last night."
    "Who found you?"
    "My dad."
    "Did he do that to you?"
    "Him and his buddies."
    "Want to tell me what happened, Kyle?"
    "He had been looking for me for a few weeks. I heard boys tell me that he was mad crazy and was gonna kill me. Last night I was at the warehouse where I sleep. Him and his buddies was there. They grabbed me and did me."
    "Did you?"
    "You know, fucked me. Hard. Again and again.
    "They beat me and kicked me then fucked me again. They made me suck them. They had shit and blood on their dicks. I puked on Eddie, he's my dad's best friend. He took out his knife and cut my face and dad punched my eye, over and over."
    "I'm very sorry to hear that Kyle. Do you know why Trevor and Alec brought you to me instead of to the police?" I asked.
    "Yes sir, you want to help homeless gay kids." Kyle stated.
    The site doctor arrived. I left as he examined Kyle and headed for the coffee pot. I was shaking I was so mad. I wanted to kill Kyle's father. Alec calmed me down. A man who would get his drunken buddies and seek out a fourteen year old boy, his own son and rape him and beat him.
    The Doctor came out and talked to me. "He is beaten pretty bad. He has a broken rib and I have stitched up his face and over his eye. I'll give you something to make him sleep for a little while, but I know you will want to talk to him first. He has some rectal bleeding, but I think it is superficial. I would like to get him to a hospital for further examination."
    "Thank you doctor. We really appreciate all that you are doing."
    "Think nothing of it Chris. Andy told me about you and I approve of what you are doing, believe me, I wish I could do more."
    I walked back into my little office with Trevor carrying a stack of clothes from our dwindling supplies. I was pretty sure that I had the proper sizes as I am one hell of a good judge of boy flesh. What met my eyes was much more than I expected. Kyle was naked. He was holding an eight by ten inch mirror as he bent over in front of the full length mirror on the back of my office door. I always check my appearance as I leave my office, don't want to do the Mary thing with my hair—There's Something About Mary; Twentieth Century Fox Studios, 1998. He was twisting around trying to see his ass hole.
    I had to stifle a laugh. He looked at me indignantly and told me that he just wanted see how bad it was. I offered to hold the mirror for him. As he passed it to me I took his whole body in. He was a tad under six feet tall and bean pole skinny, I would guess about one hundred and thirty to thirty five pounds. He had not been eating right, that was for sure. He looked at me and did a cursory pose with a flex of his arms. The muscles were there they just needed food and rest then plenty of open air exercise.
    He had nasty bruising around his ribs and several open cuts on his back and arms. His paternal unit had done a number on this boy. I knew someone who could add those numbers up. I grabbed my digital camera from my desk and started pushing the shutter button. I took hold of his cock. It didn't appear damaged, but if you saw that thing you would have to grab it too. Soft it was a good eight inches long and at least five and a half inches around. He had the military trademark circumcision of what I like to call a semi-curci. The foreskin had been cut, but only at the very end, just behind the bands. He still had enough foreskin to protect his glans from irritation caused by rubbing on clothing. The head had the brownish dried out look of a cut penis, but it had a little bit more color to it because of it's partial sheath. The ridge of his glans was very slightly damp because it was allowed to hide most of the time.
    I squeezed his cock and looked into his eyes. "Do you mind?" He shrugged his shoulders a bit then grinned at me.
    "You can only hold it for an hour or two or until I cover you in my thick ball juice." Then he let loose with the heartiest laugh I had heard from him all day. His cock was filling out to impressive measurement. I was hard pressed to be able to get my hand around the ever growing meat that this youngster was sporting. Christopher would be dethroned for sure if this lad joined our household. I didn't know what to do there. Could, or should, I even consider such a thing. I was brought back to my handy problem when his cock twitched. I had to pick up a ruler. It just didn't do the job. There was a steel tape measure laying on the window sill. Alec handed it to me as he knelt beside me to watch.
    I let out about eighteen inches of the steel tape and locked it down. I carefully laid the sharp edged tape down the length of this beauty that I held. I so wanted to just drop and suck, but I was curious as to his dimensions also. Twelve and three eighths inches long. I made a large loop with the tape and slipped it over the dripping glans. I slowly pulled the tape tight until it was flush against the skin of the largest cock I had ever held in my hand. This boy had six and one quarter inches of girth on his twelve plus inch, fourteen year old cock. I sat on the small sofa, or settee, which he was on a few minutes before and I guided his wonderful cock into my throat.
    What a job that was. The boy was a stretcher. But this is the kind of stretch I could learn to love. I went into a cock sucking frenzy. I bobbed up and down on that turgid two man meat as if it were to be my last meal ever. I had him all the way to his thin haired pubes. The boy smelled like all boy. He needed a shower, that was for sure, but it was dirty boy smell and it was driving me mad. I had him so far down inside me that I could feel him stirring my guts. I wanted more as I pushed my face against his thin abs. I could feel every bone in his pelvis as it wrapped around my face.
    Kyle was pumping his dick into me with as much fury as I was diving after it. We were in unison as we worked toward our common goal, fill my mouth with gallons of boi cream. His low hanging nads were a good three inches long. They were banging against the under side of my chin as his body slammed into my face. I felt the young rascals hitting me higher and higher and I knew that they were making their accent against the underside of his cock in preparation of doing their job, drowning me. Drown me he almost did. The boy did have gallons of sweet nectar awaiting me. He pumped load after load of thick cock snot into my eagerly sucking mouth time and time again. By the time Kyle got down to the dribbles I was actually full. I didn't feel that I could get anything else into my belly. It was lunch time and I had been hungry a few minutes before, but no longer.
    Kyle's knees wobbled. I dropped to my knees as Trevor and Alec helped me turn him around to fall into the sofa. He smiled at me and said, "Thanks I needed that. I have not gotten off for several days because of the damn hurricane. I didn't even get a hard on when my dad and his ass hole buddies…"
    "Shhh, let's put that behind us. It's over, Kyle. Kyle I am required by law to call the police What your father has done is criminal and he needs to go to jail. I look around at the destruction out here and wonder if the police would even be able to help you at this time. The police station has been destroyed. The authorities have serous trouble trying to find food and shelter for the citizens. I don't even want to think about what will happen to one fourteen year old boy in this system. But more than that…Kyle I am going to be brutal. You are a faggot. What will happen when they find that out? Yeah, it is 2005, but this is still Mississippi. I don't hold out much hope for you.
    "Let me ask you, what do you want me to do for you?" I asked.
    "Well, I really would like something to eat and maybe some dry clothes. If I could I would like to find a place to stay where he wouldn't find me…
    "Kyle look at me. In the eye, buddy. He'll never hurt you again. You can count on that." He breathed with a long sigh and sat back on the settee that served as a day bed for him.
    "Kyle, do you like to suck cock?" He blushed. "Kyle, we're all gay here, Trevor and Alec are boyfriends. They have been together for over two years." Kyle smiled, but his face hurt causing him to wince.
    "You, you're like gay too?"
    "No, I'm just a big old cock sucking boy loving queer and you're fucking cute. What do you think after that blow job I just gave you?" He fought through the pain as he let loose with a belly laugh that did my heart good. He needed to let go.
    "Do you like Mississippi?"
    "Hell no. We're from Arizona. Dad was in the Air Force. He came down here cause of some job when he got discharged last year, he took his twenty year retirement. We got down here and they wouldn't hire him so we're like stuck here, I want to go home."
    "Where in Arizona?"
    "Well, Luke AFB in Phoenix was last, but Tucson mostly." This doesn't happen does it? Could it be?
    "What was your last school in Tucson?"
    "Taylor middle school." Saved by the bell. The dinner bell rang. Kyle was dressed. I opened the office door. The boys were moving toward the food. I told Trevor and Alec to get all the freshman and sophomores to one table and leave me two seats. They took off.
    I took Kyle through the food line and helped him find food that he liked. He tried some of the vegie stuff, but he didn't like to eat cow food. I told him that I didn't like to eat cows, but I love boy meat. He laughed. He has that lilting laugh of a teenage boy that drives me insane. I led him to our table and watched for a reaction. It only took a second. Jason was up and running for Kyle. Mark and Chad were right behind. Turner called out the boy's name. I was right, but how interesting that we should come over twelve hundred miles to find a home boy in trouble. I know that the Lord leads me to these youngsters.
    Our most recent additions knew Kyle. Turner was a year older, but he knew the boy when he was in middle school I took all six of them along with Kyle and me for more talks. I had to know about Kyle's dad and I wanted to know how Kyle had ridden out the hurricane. I found out that there is an old abandoned power plant just past the tree line in the swamps. It is home to several homeless youth and now several of the storm's refugees. I sent a security contingent over to investigate.

    The power plant had been built of steel reinforced poured concrete in the early fifties. The building was solid and safe. We hooked up a portable generator to provide lighting. A kitchen was set up and two relief crews looking for a place to help were moved over there. There was a dry, warm, secure place for a large clinic which we found staffing for.
    Twenty five homeless kids were found and each of them were evaluated. None of them seemed too interested in leaving what they had. I worried about their future when the authorities finally caught up on storm relief. Sometimes you just can't offer a drowning person help that they will accept. I had to turn away.
    Kyle's father was located. Two six foot four, three hundred pound security officers paid him a visit. After only one evening of visiting with these men he was very happy to see to it that his son would have a start at a new life, in a new home with other abandoned boys. He was really happy to relinquish his rights as a parent so that his son could be adopted into a loving family who could give him everything he would need to get a good start on life. He shifted in his seat and told us that now he really understood what his son experienced when he and his buddies had used him, as he put it.
    He and his buddies had the opportunity to experience, first hand, the feeling of repetitive anal intercourse. It seems that they found themselves in an area of street boys that had lingering needs brought about by the lack of circulation because of the hurricane. These boys released their pent up energies on the three men for five days. The men were looked for so that a follow up could be done, but it seems that they had decided to take a trip through the alligator filled swamp north of the city. They didn't like the games the boys played up in them.

    I did not want to attract too much attention. As it was we started getting press around us. We had to pull some of Andy's men and put them in uniform to keep our people clear so that they could work. On the Friday before I wanted to pull out we had a scare as one of the women reporters thought that she recognized a black haired boy with horn rimmed glasses.
    It was a shame that her camera man got knocked into a mud hole with his camera. The worker apologized as he picked the camera up and ran a super heavy duty magnet hidden in his glove all around it, destroying anything that might have been seen. I told the news crew that I would gladly replace the camera if the mud had in anyway damaged it. Cullen spent the rest of the afternoon helping me in the office, behind a locked door. Yeah, he is no longer in the running, but he is still royalty and to the news people he is public domain.
    Noon Friday I had the paperwork that Kyle would need to prove that it was okay for him to be where he was. I needed to move Cullen. A reporter had taken an interest in him, even with his long black hair and thick framed glasses. He, Cory, and Chad accompanied Kyle on a plane trip to take Kyle to a hospital for further treatment. Since I was putting minors on a commercial flight I needed to send Cory or go through hell to have the children escorted. I sent them to Albany and asked JB to meet them.
    Cory had a look in his eye. I stared him down. He giggled and nodded at a nice looking boy of about sixteen or seventeen with one of the church groups. "I bet him a blow job that Christopher had a bigger cock than he did. He gives good head, dad."
    "Well I can't just let a guy get me off and leave him hang now can I? I'm no tease. I told him that I would suck his cock if he could take Christopher up his ass. I let Chrisy fuck me first to let hi…"
    "Hold it. Does he know you call him Chrisy?"
    "I only do it when he and I are together in, you know, like, together. He likes it when I whisper in his ear as we do each other. So anyway that kid, his name is Buck, took the mighty widget almost at once. We worked him a little bit, but he was ass hungry. He has wanted to do boy sex forever, but his old man is the Deacon of their church." Shit, just what I need, another Jerry Thompson. I spatted Cory's ass and made him get out to our ride to his plane.

    I began lining up wiring, plumbing fixtures, cabinets. Yeah, we had started building houses, but they needed to be finished for them to be useful. I found four million board feet of plywood in Canada and nine train car loads of two by fours, two by eights, and two by twelves. I had them sent to Jackson, MS for the late showing feds to disperse. I bought everything in the name of the fŗĩęñďş Çłųß. I had to incorporate the club as a non-profit entity at once. I started working on the books to move money into the club from accounts all around the world from as long as five months in the past. I am walking on very thin ice with this one. The saving grace is the fact that we have the club house and apartments in full operation. What I needed now was to show donations large enough to cover all of the purchases I was making.

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