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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either
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Thus said, this story is copyrighted©, 20062007
It is therefore illegal to copy or use any part of this story without my written permission.

Hi, my name is Tim. Dad is down, big time this time. He is recovering but he is worried about you, his faithful readers. TRAVELER will not have new chapters until he gets well enough to work but in the meantime he wants to give you something to keep your spirits (hehehehe) up. Sipirits up, yeah, sure, hehehe. I know what you will keep up. We are dusting off many of his old stories and he has taught me how to convert them to post on-line.
We hope that you enjoy these stories and Carl will be back shortly.

          The door of the maximum security prison cell slid open. Three or four dark figures rushed in. Jim was jerked awake from a very sound asleep only to pummeled again by the blows coming down on his head. "Child rapist!!" "Queer ass faggot!" "Die, chomo." Were only some of the phrases that reached his ears before unconsciousness mercifully carried him away to a safer place for his mind.

          Jim loved twelve year old Kyle with all of his heart. The boy had seen more and suffered more than any boy his age should ever even hear about. There was absolutely nothing Jim would not do for the boy and visa versa, Kyle would do for Jim. Jim married Kyle's mother as she struggled to put her life together. Kyle was withdrawn and afraid of his shadow but Jim had worked with him and drawn him out. The boy was his old self again, open, laughing, and playful.
          For two years the three of them had a family relationship that was the envy of all that knew them. To see Kyle when Jim was near was to see true happiness and confidence. Jim was foreman for a roofing company. His crew used hot tar to mop over the fresh laid paper. A series of pulleys let some young, strong worker pull the five gallon buckets of super heated tar to the roof. One afternoon one of those pulleys failed. Against his better judgement and all of the training he had ever had, Jim got beneath a bucket of tar, ten feet above the ground and yanked at the stuck rope holding a bucket of the boiling liquid suspended over his head. The rope broke free but the bucket tipped its load and before Jim could jump completely clear the molten mass poured onto his groin.
          He had none of the normal safety gear, leather apron, high wader boots, etc. A simple pair of painfully worn denim jeans was the only thing between the tar and his most precious jewelry. "What a day to freeball," was Jim's last thought before passing out from the burning pain. To his good fortune the burns were minor. Two coworkers seeing the accident in the making were already on the move as Jim fell backwards in his attempt to leap away from the tumbling bucket. Had the bucket of tar been two feet higher he would have made it free but he did not have the lead time to outdistance the onrushing doom.
          His coworkers immediately ripped his soaked jeans from his body allowing the heat to only remain against his skin for mere seconds. Jim suffered second degree burns which required several days off and the application of ointments to allow the skin of his penis and scrotum to heal. His hands were a different matter. His work gloves had protected the hands themselves, to a point, but his forearms were seriously burned.
          Jim was a big man standing nearly six foot three. He carried a very hefty tonnage of three hundred and sixty four pounds. The man had not seen the jewels hidden under his massive belly in many years. Now he could not touch them either.
          Jim's wife worked until seven each night. She applied the ointment for Jim before leaving and upon arrival after work as well as once more through the course of the day. Young Kyle, now fourteen had volunteered to apply the medicine as soon as he came in from school. This disturbed Jim but he was in so much pain by that time of day that he knew that it would be difficult to wait until his wife came home.
          After a very short family counsel it was deemed a blessing that Kyle wanted to help his dad and the lad's tender hand made life much easier for Jim. Unknown to Jim or Kyle's mother, the youngster had harbored sexual fantasies of Jim and had eagerly sought a way to be able to have some modicum of sexual contact with the object of his affection, even if it was strictly platonic.
          Kyle left his friends as he hurried home each afternoon for almost three weeks. He would find Jim on his bed already naked and waiting. The open jar of salve was on the bedside table and without ceremony the lad would scoop up a large dollop of the blue cream on his tiny fingers and begin to rub it in to the damaged skin. He played the medicine into the quickly rising manhood of his stepfather making sure to pull the massive foreskin back and work the healing concoction into the enraged glans as it swelled from the attention it was getting. Kyle worked his hands up and under and around the large testicles and actually drooled as he contemplated a time when he would be able to take each one of the magnificent orbs into his young hungry mouth.
          Kyle enjoyed stroking his secret lover. Jim had admonished him time and time again about his methods but the boy was relentless. Emboldened by his previous success he explained in a very positive tone that he was sure that Jim was unable to make love in his condition and therefore was in much need of release. As he talked he stroked. He had managed to rub the ointment entirely into the skin and had even managed to wipe his young hand off on a towel that he had in his lap. When the moment came for Jim he had his head laid back and his eyes closed as he enjoyed the best ejaculations that he had experienced in many years.
          Kyle, hiding under the mighty upstanding belly of the big man aimed the nearly eight inch long cock of his lover downward where he could shoot the large load of pure white man cream into his eager mouth. He changed hands when it came into the short stroke so that he could lick the tiny dribbles from his fingers, first one hand then the other. Whether Jim was ever wise to these actions or not he would not say.

          Kyle's natural father had been sentenced under the old law for child rape. He had served a five year sentence getting a two and a half year reduction under a law that only made a man serve fifty percent of his time. He had really missed Kyle and the wonderful sex he was having with the boy. Kyle was getting old enough that he should be ready for sex himself and the pervert wanted to be there with his own son, now.
          Jim was well enough to travel and had returned to work. The company had purchased a new piece of heavy equipment that needed to be picked. Jim was asked to make the five hundred mile trip to load it up and pull it back to town.
          As the victim, Kyle and his mother had been notified that his father, her ex-husband was to be released from the state's prison system. Jim was reluctant to leave his family, even for over night but the company really needed the new equipment and he was really the only one in position to be able to take off and get it. He left the house before dawn so that he could get a lead on rush hour traffic up the freeway. He had to pass through a large town two hours north. It was leave early or wait until around nine o'clock. This way he would have more that a four hour jump on his overall trip and might even make it back home late tonight.
          Fortune smiled down on him. The trailer for the new equipment fit perfectly to the hook up Jim had on the truck he had driven over. He marveled at his luck because both of the other trucks would have had to have a new wiring harness installed. While the trailer was hooked up to his ride Jim walked over to a dinner to eat a hefty lunch at about eleven thirty. He knew that he could not make the good time on the return trip as he had coming over. The trailer and its weight would not take those speeds.
          Kyle's mother had relented to allow Jeremy to sleep over. She kind of felt a little more secure knowing that the two boys were in the house. She was not afraid, really. It was just that she and Jim had not been apart in the two years of their marriage.

          Kyle's dad sat in an old junk car back up in the woods east of his wife and son's home. He had loved this old car. It was the first car he ever owned. Now it was relegated to a rusting heap at the edge of his father in law's property where two house trailers sat. His father in law was off to the back of the property, by the old creek. His wife's place was out front by the road. He hoped not to see the old man. There was no love there. The old man wanted to see dead for the continued sexual assaults that he had put his young son, Kyle through.
          Sleep had overcome him as he looked down at the now dark trailer. He was all worked up. He had his cock out of his pants and was stroking it as he walked, quietly to the door of the home he had bought and set on this lot just ten years before. He opened the door into the kitchen. No movement inside. He went to the refrigerator. Some cold chicken and a beer would really make him feel good about now. As he polished off the last sip of beer he remembered his aching cock. He stroked it to make it come back to life. Quietly he made his way to the narrow hallway. Kyle's bedroom door was open.
          Kyle always slept on the top bunk. There he was. His silhouette could just be made out from the narrow beam of light shining in from the small window at the head of the bed. Kyle was in his briefs, on top of the covers on this warm night. The boy had grown. He had a huge hard on. Slowly the man worked the waistband of the briefs out and over the throbbing young piece of manhood. It was a nice five inches about the same size around. A sweet mouthful of sweet boi meat for a hungry boi loving daddy who wanted his son's cream more than anything in the world.
          He inched forward and took the erect cock in his mouth to be instantly met with the most wonderful sensation of his life. The young cock surged and expanded in his mouth. The boy scooted to the edge of the bed pushing his cock deeper into the sucking mouth of his daddy. He began to hump his tiny little hips as his turgid meat made the voyage again and again into the hungry throat that held his most rapt attention. All to quickly for the man it was over. He was receiving pulse after pulse of sweet nectar straight from the hose of life as his son filled him with the culminations of two and a half years of dreams in a prison cell.
          The boy stirred beneath him and grabbed at his head. "What, who?" Quickly the man made his exit. The stirring of his friend in the upper bunk awakened Kyle as his friend began to scream. Jumping out of bed Kyle was staring into the face of his terrified young friend. Kyle's mother was at the door trying to get information for herself. Jeremy began to cry as he moved into the back corner of the bed, hard against the wall. "He sucked my dick." Kyle looked at Jeremy's soft cock and balls hanging over the top of the waist band of his small white briefs. The soft piece of flesh was wet and a drop of cum lay at the small piss slit of the cut head.

          Jim was elated. It was just past eleven o'clock at night. He had made very good time, considering the weight he was pulling. He rolled the heavy gates to the yard closed as he looked at the one ton truck that had carried him nearly a three miles and back again. The huge machine on the trailer behind it was going to make life so much easier for the company. He rattled the heavy chain to make sure that the padlock was secure and climbed into his own pickup for the trip to his wife and son and his bed. A sheriff's car sped past him with lights flashing and siren blaring. At first Jim thought of an accident blocking the road ahead that would delay his return home. He approached his turn off and could see the flashing blue and red lights of another car coming from the opposite direction.
          He traveled on up his roadway but just before he crested the last hill the second sheriff's car sped past him. At the top of the hill Jim could look down and saw that both cars had pulled into his yard. He sped up a bit and pulled into the yard. Before he could get out of his truck a deputy sheriff was there wanting to know where he'd been. He told of his trip. He had seen no one since getting fuel for the one ton diesel truck out on the freeway an hour or two earlier. He was told to remain where he was.
          Jeremy's mother came out of the door with her son pulled close to her side. Jeremy looked up at Jim and began to scream, "There he is. That's him. He raped me in my sleep." The deputy with Jim quietly put a pair of handcuffs on his wrists and led him over to the squad car.
          Jim languished in his jail cell for three weeks. His wife came to see him and told him of the mysterious visitor. She explained to Jim time and again that she had told the investigators of Jim's well known allergy to chicken and how he would never eat the meat of the bird without a serious case of hives and possible death. His trip to and from the factory was confirmed and it was determined that he had to have exceeded the speed limits to make the trip in the short amount of time that he did. The receipt for fuel from the truck stop was the only thing that he had to show his where abouts since shortly after noon that day. A blood sample drawn at Jim's home revealed absolutely no alcohol in Jim's system.
          With the load he was pulling a safe speed would have been forty five to fifty miles and hour. A check of his own records of milage and times showed that he would have had to be driving an average of sixty miles an hour. However the first sixty miles or so was in a congested city with heavy freeway traffic known for it one to two hour delays. Given the benefit of the doubt that he had clear sailing it was more than possible that he had made the trip in less time. Then, it was speculated, that he had rushed out to drive up the road and come back after the sheriff arrived trying to establish an alibi.
          Even when questioning the two officers about where and at what time they had passed Jim on the way to the scene was inconclusive. Only the DNA from a swab taken of the saliva from Jeremy's penis proved that it was not Jim that had molested the boy. Jim had to be released. The jailer was not pleased.

          The jailer was hardly more than a rookie in the little jerk water town a hundred miles from nowhere. She had high ambitions. She had known of a friend of a friend who had been molested when she was in elementary school and she thought that this had to be the worst kind of crime. She had her eye on maybe someday becoming a detective. She decided that this was a case worth pursuing.
          Her first stop was to Kyle's school. Dressed in street clothes, as she thought a detective would be, she asked to have Kyle brought to the office for an interview. It did not matter to her that such an interview was illegal without the boy's parents in attendance. Kyle was brought in. He sat down and the jailer proceeded to gain his trust and confidence. She was asking questions about his home life and his school. She had no idea of any previous history because she already knew the facts as she perceived them. She kept her notes on a piece of folded notebook paper and had to constantly refold the paper to find a place to add more information.
          After an interminable amount of time for a young teen to sit through her incessant barrage she looked him in the eye and asked point blank if his father ever touched him down there. Kyle immediately answered yes. As she continued to hammer at him with her new found knowledge Kyle realized that she was talking about Jim. He tired to clear it up that his father had touched him but Jim never had, only to be told that it was okay that he did not have to defend his molester any longer. That everything was going to be okay.

          Jim was arrested on the job by the jailer and another wannabe fast riser in the department. An arrest warrant was obtained as soon as Jim was behind bars. A half hour too late for most judges but this is jerk water, okay. The prosecutor was elated. A mandate had come down from the state to tighten down on child sex crimes. There have been too many committed for too long and not being reported. Hundreds of children were being molested in their own home daily and the state wanted to see some arrests and convictions to show that they were amongst the more forward thinking states and were seeking to end this terrible crime, forever.
          With Kyle's revelation in hand a state appointed child psychologist was brought in to overcome the obvious fact that the boy had adapted in defense of his offender. It is a well known psychological fact that victims often fall in love with their molesters and will even outright lie to protect them. The jailer was absolutely certain that the boy had something more to tell so she was allowed to sit in on the interviews, again without a parent. Poor young Kyle didn't stand a chance. The pair had the full story of how a soothing balm had been applied to Jim's penis when the two were alone. This was obviously sexual.
          Evidence presented by two doctors proved, without a doubt that Kyle had been anally molested and in the not too distant past. Evidence was produced concerning Kyle's father and his subsequent incarceration for the molestation of Kyle. The natural father had been released from prison but had taken work out of state and there was no evidence that he had ever visited his old home and family. That evidence was dismissed as having no bearing on this case. After a three day trial Jim was found guilty of nine counts of sexual molestation and ongoing sex with a minor. He was convicted of rape of the sleeping Jeremy. He was judged repetitive and non remorseful. He was sentenced to two hundred and seventeen years in prison.

          The beating had stopped and now each man took a turn at Jim's stretched and sore ass. He knows that at least two of the men had a go at him twice. The one he could almost swear was the night guard on this run had not only sodomized him but had forced Jim to fellate him afterwards.
          When I met Jim this had been his daily life for six years. He had undergone surgery to the left front lobe of his brain. The beatings had been so severe that an arachnoid tumor had began to intertwine the motor function control center of his brain. Jim could not hold a pencil and could only convey his message through the laborious striking of one finger at a time against the keyboard of a typewriter for several hours each day. He had lost the ability to use either hand and walking was a major chore for the, now gaunt and drawn one hundred and fifty five pound man.
          His speech was halting and slow. It took several hours and much patience to get the information that Jim wanted to convey to me. I spent six hours each evening with Jim as I wrote down every word he had to tell me. I spent an hour each morning with Jim in the law library helping him to prepare yet another brief to be filled in his defense as he tried to get a new trial.
          Jim had already filed several appeals and his case was now in the state statutes as a precedent. The state's appellate court had upheld his conviction based mainly on Kyle's testimony that he had in fact touched Jim when applying the medication. Six of the charges had been dropped or reduced and Jim's sentence was reduced to fifty years of which he had served nine when I met him.

          I was transferred from the yard where Jim was and did not see him again for another two years. I was released three months later but as I had promised my friend, and a few other's besides him, that I would never forget them. I located Jim's wife almost at once. She led me to Kyle. He was living with a forty two year old man that bore a striking resemblance to his step father. I got next to Kyle and after several days alone with the boy I got the whole story. Jim had not even known of Kyle's desires for him and, as Kyle had hoped, did not know that he had been getting off while helping his dad get off. Yes, Kyle thinks of Jim as dad and he loves him deeply. He is not allowed to see Jim because he is the victim and the state does not allow victims to visit.
          Kyle and I located the doctor who admitted giving directions for the application of the medication on a strict regimen in order to prevent scaring. His directions had influenced the young boy to believe that it was a serious thing that had to be done or he could loose his dad. To cross every T and dot every I we got hold of the DNA sample from Jeremy. We had it looked at and it was discovered to be Jim's father's DNA. Jim's father was back in prison for new crimes against another teenage boy. He gave a sworn deposition from his jail cell detailing what he thought was a session with his son on the night this whole thing started, over ten years before. He was told that the statute of limitations had run out and that he could not be prosecuted for this crime but the law had been changed and the state decided to prosecute him anyway and add forty five more years to his sentence, sex with a minor and rape of a minor.

          With full evidence of Jim's innocense the state would not release him. Jim served a total of twelve years for a crime he never committed. He has been seriously brain damaged. He has had to undergo a complete colon resection to rid himself of the scaring and he has full blown AIDS.
          To his good, twenty seven year old Jeremy has taken Jim into his heart and home. The young man provides around the clock aides for Jim. Kyle and his mother live in the house with Jim and they take part in caring for the man but Jeremy knows that it was his frightened cry and finger pointing that set an innocent man to a life more painful than death. He holds Jim tight and tells him that he will be there for Jim for the rest of his life.

          Jim died on August nineteenth of 1999 of complications from AIDS. Jim had been molested by the system.

So there you have it. Is your friction enhanced by my fiction?
Tell me about it at fisherman@iname.com

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