Andy Finds Daddy
Part 2 Chapter 11 as told to CARL DICKSON
By: ANDREW FOSS
Warning: This story contains vivid descriptions of sexual activity between a man and teen boys.
If this kind of story turns you off, please find something else.
The author does not encourage or condone sex between adults and underage children.
If you are underage, or 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.
This story is copyrighted, ©1999 ©2006. It is therefore illegal to copy or use any part of this story without my written permission.
My name is Andrew Michael Foss. I still like the name Andy. I am called that by those that love me. I'm twenty four and a college graduate.
I'm the head of my own international security company worth multi-million bucks. I have a wonderful life with my dad. Everything I have and am is because of his love for me.
We would like to know how you like our story and will welcome any comments, we want to know how sick we are in the eyes of the world. We will try to respond to all e-mails, she-males, and he-males as the case may be, fe-males, leave phone number and picture, daddy says I need a wife so I can have sons of my own to pleasure him in his old age.
I was sitting of top of the world. Daddy and I lay in bed. My ass felt so used. Used to
feeling used, I was all smiles as I cuddled up to the one man who would always have my heart.
We were talking about dad's favorite cousin, Chris. Yeah, I did it. I ran the DNA of both men.
They don't want to know but I did. They have a common Indian male ancestor back a generations
or so. I won't tell them what I know but I have the knowledge in my heart that these two
wonderful men are of the same blood. It helps me to feel closer to Chris, if that makes sense. I
really love Chris and I would like to be a part of that crazy zoo he has down the street from my
house. Yeah, we've told you before that we are neighbors. He just has wall to wall boys. Here it
is just Dad, his son Tom, with his lover, our two former bell boys from New York, Jeff and
Mark, and me. I like it like that. Six of us that are mostly monogamous. We get it on once in
awhile but I usually get jumped by Chris's boys when I go down there. A new series lays in wait for those who only wish to masturbate. You may find interest in these stories by Carl Dickson: Currently running serialized sagas by Carl Dickson:
Daddy and I were going over the things that we learned as we took Prince Cullen out into the public in New York City. Anytime a Royal Head of State is in the country the State Department is supposed to be involved. We were breaking so many laws that we could be locked away forever. It didn't make it any easier that there was a half a world of people after the boy for the huge reward that was on his young head.
Cullen is a sweet kid and very loving. He wanted to show me his appreciation, constantly. Chris kissed me and told me I could have all of the boy that he wanted to share with me but he was sure that I would have all of the boy I could handle long before the boy was through with me. I was stupid enough to take the challenge. I had never been with a feisty fourteen year old and had no idea how much cum they had or wanted. I fucked my dick raw on that skinny little ass of his. Daddy was telling me that I couldn't get personally involved to that level with our regular clients. The old man laughed his ass off at me. He thought it was funny.
We did learn quite a bit however. We were able to keep Cullen under our watchful eye every second and the only scary time was when that ambassador tried to run out with him. Even then we were on it and the man only got far enough away from the crowd that our takedown of him was unknown to anyone. Chris is a bit of a sadist at heart and I could see how much he really wanted to hurt the man but his plan to put him in bed with a ten year old street boy was priceless. Chris has seen to that little guy's future and he will never want for anything again. I have asked Chris and he'll only tell me that the boy is now with a two parent family who know of his past and his desires. They are comfortable with all of that because the boy is so much of a ray of pure joy in their lives. Chris says that he gets weekly reports from his people near the couple but will never bother any of the three of them unless it is necessary.
Construction was well underway on our regional centers. Arkansas proved to be a breeze. There were very large caverns deep underground with great drainage. The site was perfect for our needs. We made an extraordinarily secure entry way from a small cabin that we built at about five thousand feet up the side of a mountain. There was a mountain top lake in front of a sheer cliff of solid granite. A meadow of short green grass surrounded this little lake. A natural clearing of the trees framed a commanding view of the area below. This had been a place of solitude to Cory and Chris's grandfather and he wanted a cabin with a large window overlooking the magnificent view. He died before ever getting it built. A place of honor was built behind the three inch thick bullet proof window where a six inch tall pot of Indian design resides. Chris has a larger version of that same pot sitting in the entry way of his home. Both contain ashes of his grandfather. The cabin was actually one half inch thick steel plating, clad in wood siding on the outside. Chris had us use the same Kevlar honeycomb batting that his house is made from for insulation under the sheet rock inside. The cabin is bullet proof and pretty much, small bomb proof.
Cory was shown the cabin He was overwhelmed. He and Chris spent several nights up there. Cory does not know that the back wall of the closet hides an eighteen inch thick door that leads down into our communications center. An electric cart sits by the door, constantly ready for Chris to use to come down to the command post. His password and imprint will buy him ten minutes to get that far before an intruder alert is sounded. Ten minutes is a trip to descend seven thousand feet on a path just over four miles long, with hundreds of turns and intersections. A maze that Chris himself designed. Someone that did not know the maze would be nice targets for the many automated weapons system my boys and I play with.
Daddy had wanted to get the Arizona complex up first. He wanted a place close by that we could get to on short notice. He stayed with that complex and had it up and fully functional by the end of August. The runway into the complex was due to the ingeniousness or youth of Jeff and Tom. Daddy was complaining about there not being anyway of hiding a runway long enough for a 747. Jeff said hide it in the mountain. Tom shoved his dick in Jeff's ass and said, "see, most of it is inside. You don't get anywhere with it all out in the open." We laughed but daddy and I looked at each other.
Daddy loved his old decilog log slide rule. He could whip out his figures as fast as I could with my scientific calculator and be right to two or three decimals. A 747 should have at least a mile and a half of good concrete under it but there are many instances of much shorter runways being used safely. A good pilot can land in a mile. Heavily loaded he might need a mile and a half to get off. I can get off in much less distance. Excuse me.
We had level ground a quarter of a mile wide and two miles deep into our Arizona mountain. The thing was one massive rock and very little shoring was needed throughout. Mammoth structures were erected inside to support the roof on eighteen inch steel I beams of three quarter inch thick alloyed steel. Five hundred foot long bolts were driven up into the mountain from inside anchoring the I beams to the ceiling creating a span of five hundred feet. A six hundred foot tall opening was made a quarter of a mile back into the cavern where it slowly lowered to four hundred feet.
A mile and a half of three hundred foot wide runway was constructed outside the cavern with one and a quarter miles of the concrete covered with four inches of packed sand. Some concoction of one of daddy's engineering friends. He told us that it would break up into chunks rather than grains if great weight were put on it. The idea was to not have loose sand that would cause the plane to slide and it should not blow away but hide the extra pavement from the air. Most of Arizona is government land so it was not unusual for signs to appear forbidding trespassers around our complex.
The concrete runway was colored and the edges treated so no sharp lines appeared. Landings had to be by instrument until almost on the ground. Sight landings would be hazardous as there was really nothing to sight on until a plane was on the ground and could see into the swiftly arriving cavern ahead. All of the electronics were buried and even the lights were disguised. The lights were only turned on when a plane was on final approach as a courtesy to a very nervous flight crew. After a few landings the pilots asked that the lights not be used to prevent their accidental sighting by unauthorized persons in the area.
Camouflaged tarps were lowered over much of the cavern mouth making it more difficult to see. The nearest access by land was at the end of the runway at the top of a fifty foot climb full of electronic sensors to detect intruders. A person could get up on the mountainside across the river, some seven miles away. High powered lens could be used to snoop us out. We took some very hard looks at the lessons learned at the so called Area 51, which of course does not exist.
With all that we have put into this base I feel it is the most secure place on earth. No one, or thing larger than a tit-mouse can get within five miles of us with out our knowing it and what we have in our own private satellite makes crispy critters out of them in an instant. Not even ashes are left. We had to play so Chris and I found some old derelict cars over the edge of a cliff within our range. There are not even melted remains. This puppy is hot. I better shut up.
New York was coming along but we started last on it and were barely out of the ground when Chris came up. Wait a minute. I am ahead of myself again. Let me go back a few weeks. We had just become operational at Base Andy. Like that? Their's Base Boy because of our proximity to Bradford Academy, BAG Boys, daddy loves a joke. And Base Chris, because Chris owns the west half of the mountain we're in. Our communications gear was up and strong when one of the monitors hit on a key word, Cullen. Alarms went off everywhere. I was in town and got the call. Someone in the center had already hit the button that put all of the agencies which we are associated with into action. I just made it seconds ahead of the boys in black as we homed in on locators implanted in Chris and Cullen. All of my men have a locator about the thickness of a standard Bic Pen® refill and about a quarter of an inch long implanted under their balls. Chris wanted Cullen implanted too so we put one in him the day after he arrived.
The fax machine in my truck was spitting out a full color picture of young Cullen on his back, naked, covered in cum, with cum spouting cocks aimed at him. The closed caption at the bottom of the page read in a Slavic language, "The queen who would be King." This had just been taken off of a live feed to one of Europe's leading television networks. I was driving, pulling pages out of the fax machine and yelling into my radio mic to shut that story down. I came up to the school seconds ahead of two FBI cars with their lights flashing. I slammed my truck into a ninety degree stop against the curb and ran as fast as I could toward Chris who was just entering the school.
He had heard me coming and was on the ground in protective cover over Cullen. I was proud of him. The money that we had spent sending him training this past spring proved its worth right there. It is not easy getting a man away from a family as large and demanding as his for three hours of intensive drill everyday but we had done it and today showed that the training had worked. I showed Chris the picture as I placed my hand against his back. I knew he would go slack kneed and he did. He quickly recovered and let his training take over as he stated shouting orders at his boys.
I took Cullen and all of the boys outside into protective custody and had them put inside armored vehicles. Chris
went inside then was back in minutes with the rest of his boys. He got in my truck with Cullen and me as one of my men took his car. We left in a motorcade that sped through town with motorcycle police stopping traffic at every intersection. I had managed to put the flags of Cullen's country on the fenders of my truck and of an FBI car behind me so we looked impressive. We let our motorcycle escort fall behind to block traffic so no one saw our turn off at the end of a runway at the main airport where I had one of my planes ready and waiting. We played out a game months in advance for just this sort of action where we had to get the president out of town after Air Force One had been over run while he was in town speaking. This was only one of many such escape plans but it was the one I played for my friends. The boys were rushed inside the plane and we began to taxi away before the steps were lowered and the door closed. The ground crew did their job because I did not hear the stairs hit the plane as we got under way.
We took off almost at once. We taxied to the end of the runway and were off at once. The FBI had alerted the airport of a visiting head of State under attack. Damn their hides. I would have someone's hide on my wall. I guess they think they were doing their job but no one knew Cullen was in this country and those that suspected he was had no idea he was in Arizona. Now my job is getting harder.
The next two days were pandemonium. The state department was all over me, demanding to know where this kid king was. I was trying to get it across to Chris that he had to get Cullen out of town but he was not about to split up his family. I was about to pull my hair out when I learned that he was out trying to save more battered and molested boys. Now don't get me wrong. I love him for what he is doing. I was one of those boys, if you'll remember. I know how wonderful it is to have that man on a white horse come up to you and give you hope and peace and a future. I had to stop and kiss daddy. But dang it, man there is real danger afoot and my main player is off on his white horse. I had to stop and pray for him.
The next morning Chris is on the phone ordering helicopters and airplanes to carry supplies to the gulf region. Well I have a heart and I was more than willing to do whatever I could to help get food and water to those poor souls who had lost everything, including hope. What Chris was doing was so important but he didn't realize that his life was on the line as well as everybody in his house. The world's telephone lines were melting down with calls wanting to know about a State Department memo saying that King Cullen was somewhere in Arizona. It would not take much longer for them to zero in and once they did these people would not stop with killing Cullen.
The good news came from Chris in the late afternoon. All of his boys were home safe from school and he was easier to talk to. He had his mind going in a hundred different directions but some of those directions made me calm down. He wanted to fly himself and his boys to the gulf to help with rescue and rebuilding. He decided that he would be better off if he limited himself to rebuilding. He wanted a plane to take the whole troop south. We rattled back and forth then he hit on a solution to so many of my problems. He does not know it yet but he now has his very own airplane, just for his use. I had a 737 in the hanger for a re-paint. The interior was still set up as a passenger liner. That would fit the bill nicely. He asked if we could use a flat black primer to make my repaint easier when he got back. He wanted large white script lettering that simply said, "Friends' Club" painted on the plane. I could do that, gladly.
We worked all night to fill the plane with craftsmen and tools. The next morning he showed up with his boys to find us in a heavily guarded hangar at the Air Field along with eighty five men who would be going with him to build houses.
I had to file a flight plan and I notified the State Department. I made it clear that Prince Cullen was my responsibility and that I would take the full brunt for any actions that might endanger him. I refused to identify or point Cullen out. I told them that he was flying with a group of volunteers from his highschool who knew who he was and were dressed like him to protect him. They liked that like the plague but I had the upper hand, I had the boy.
We landed in Hettiesburg, Mississippi under extra FAA and NSA security. The small airport there was not long enough for our plane but we had one of the best combat trained pilots in the country at the stick. We unloaded the plane and got down to work. Chris amazes me with his expertise. He had us organized and working before the sun was fully up. He took a chopper down to Biloxi to survey the area. FEMA had reluctantly given us an area to work in. I believe that they expected us to fail as badly as they had. Not so with Chris. His boys were already landing and setting up their command center and their own shelter and food station.
By noon Chris had the military flying in heavy equipment and he was clearing roads and moving debris. The first roofs went on before dark as he took those houses that were deemed salvageable to task first. The area he had been assigned had not had significant flooding so that was no problem. The damage here was simply from the high winds and rain. He found a highschool cafeteria virtually intact. With few new windows installed and some serious cleanup and sanitizing Chris had volunteer cooks working by noon. Hot soup was the fare with a sandwich and a piece of fruit but it was more than some of these people had eaten in two or three days.
Chris was flying in planes loaded with lumber and boxes of apples set on top of that. He brought up three helicopters full of oranges from a Florida grower that he knew. The oranges had been destined to a now non-existent cannery and would rot. Chris smiled at me, "Orange juice futures. I have to protect my own don't you know." I don't understand commodity trading but the man has made me a fortune in coffee and orange juice futures. At least that's what he tells me. When I heard that there was a warehouse found under water and full of coffee my heart sank a bit. Chris told me it was all good that the price was going up. He told me to buy lots of cans of coffee and this winter reap the profits from the higher price. He knows this stuff I don't.
Just five or six days into our work Chris came to me to ask for a very special personal favor. He had found a boy in real need. He told me that the boy was a link to a serious court case that he was working on. I don't know about that. We're in Mississippi. What kind of court case did he have going here? Anyway the boy needed to be in a hospital. He was trying to get legal guardianship so he could get the boy treated and every day counted.
Things blew up on Chris on about our twelfth day on the job. Rita Skeeter spotted Cullen. Cullen had dyed his hair black and was wearing black horn rimmed glasses but this television reporter thought she saw him. I heard Chris shout into the radios that we all wore and one of my agents accidently fell over the reporter's photographer causing both me to fall into a puddle of standing brackish water left over from the storm. My man had a heavy duty magnet that we all carry for just such a job. He slipped the magnet into his glove and picked the man's camera from the water, making sure to wipe every inch of the camera with the magnet and really giving the area over the inserted tape cassette a good going over. Chris was thankful that the news crews weren't able to get their microwave uplinks back into where we were yet and were reduced to using the older tape cameras.
He had four boys on a plane to New York a half an hour later. I had to beg him to send them anywhere but Tucson. He settled on New York when he got hold of his friend, a Mr. Bradford that ran the school there. Chris and his boys were staying at the school this past summer. They were down in New York city when we met the boys for the big party. Mr Bradford agreed to put the three boys up get the new boy into the hospital. I asked about this reporter, Rita whatever. He told me that she was the bane of a young wizard in England and he would tell me the story when the rush was over. A boy by the name of Christopher told me it was a character from a Harry Potter book. I've never read the books so I was at a loss. Christopher explained that the character in the book wrote her own distorted version of the truth without regard to whom she may hurt. I never did find out why Chris related this character to the reporter at the job site.
Chris's efforts were drawing a lot of attention. It seems that we were the only ones working. Chris had train cars of material arriving hourly. Everything was coming in under the name of the Friends' Club. Reporters were dragging men away from their work trying to find out who this group was. Nobody could recall ever having heard of them. Finally on Sunday the eighteenth Chris had all one hundred and three of us load up and sneak off.
My men didn't go to work that morning. They quietly broke down our equipment and loaded it onto the plane. Many of the men put on their black uniforms with black patches that one had to get right up on to read. They armed themselves and took locations around to keep everybody away from the boys, the office, or Chris. I heard the reporter that Chris called Rita ask two of the boys who the Friends were. They put their arms over each other's shoulders and simply said, "We are." She chased after them wanting to know if they were a church group and why they were all vegetarians. Chris was right, she was dangerous. She had been asking too many questions and she could not be allowed to know the truth.
I filed a flight plan for St. Louis but changed it while in the air to Chicago. Chicago was exactly as we had hoped, inundated with rain We dropped below radar in Chicago's flight plain and switched transponders. When we got back up where we could be seen we were identified as a government plane on a priority flight. I didn't listen to the radio chatter but I am sure there are some nervous ATCs wondering what happened to the black airplane flying under the name of Friends' Club.
We landed in New York and into a peck of trouble for Chris. I really wish now that I had taken him back home. As soon as his boys were fed and bedded Chris took off to the hospital to see his new boy that had been hurt. I learned from the other boys that this new boy was an old friend of their newest family members and he had been molested by the same ones that they were waiting to testify against.
Chris came back to Base Bradford so mad that I could see the veins in his face. He hardly slept. He paced almost all night. Pete sat with him awhile but the poor boy passed out. Chris carried him to his bed. Cory awakened and wanted to know what was going on. I knew to just keep my distance. The next morning I moved my things into Carl's and my private apartment. Chris put on a suit and left in a rental Cadillac as soon as it was delivered.
He was gone for most of the day then he came back and stayed with the boys for a few hours. He couldn't sleep yet and was up about ten. I was watching a young man on my monitors as he prowled around the barracks in which Chris and his boys were sleeping. I was just about to have him picked up when Chris walked up to him. I aimed a microphone at them and tightened my picture. I could see the joint. That really got to me. I have known Chris for seven years. I have done a very thorough background check on him. He does not do drugs. Maybe he will have a drink, every year or two but drugs...there was something bad wrong.
I had IDed the peeper, he was Toby Minor. An eighteen year old new hire on his first job. He was part of the above ground laborers with no clearance or knowledge of the underground activities going on around him. We had no background or other information on this Toby Minor. It was unknown who had placed the young man on the job. He was just there raking the grass and doing a good job so we watched him, all day.
Chris was laid back on the grass as Toby swallowed his first cock. Chris was giving the boy instructions on how to suck him as he lay back with a marijuana cigarette. When he finished smoking he gave Toby a big kiss then stripped the boy naked and sucked his young cock, outside, in the grass, under the moonlight. What a fucking man. He knows no fear. I am falling more and more in love with him the longer I get to know him.
I'm afraid that my cock found its way into my hand when Chris took Toby's virginity. I actually have a close up tape recording, well okay, three tape recordings from different angles, with sound, of Chris deflowering a very cute and sexy teenage boy. His technique is so smooth. He ate the boy's ass then sucked him off again. He did this twice after already sucking a load out of the kid when they were sixty nineing. He had his fingers up the boy's chute working it open for his monster to work its magic inside.
From their pillow talk in the soft grass everything had come out okay and Toby was in love. The two lay there and slept until the sky began to brighten. Chris left Toby as he dashed into the barracks to get dressed. He was back in a flash with one of the base jumpsuits on. He and Toby got into the Cadillac and left. It was just after sunrise when Chris returned, alone, and went back into the barracks.
Chris spent most of Monday morning with the boys. He had a couple of phone calls and he made a couple of calls. I spent the morning sleeping in. Chris found me at lunchtime and he had some great news for me. He had pulled all of the boys out of school for the semester and was taking them to Europe. Oops, did I say great news. I thought that I was having nightmares trying to watch over him now but here he is wanting to jump into the fire with both feet.
Chris laid out a story to me that made me see red. Someone was trying to shut down the school. There was big money behind the effort and a lot of people stood to get hurt. He also told me about a boy he had met at the hospital that had been the victim of an over amorous and anxious boyfriend. The boyfriend had been literally stomped by his own father. The father had jumped up and down on his sixteen year old son. Chris was on his way to get the boy out of jail. He asked if I could monitor the local cops and keep him up to date. No problem. I was in constant communication with Chris the rest of the day as he got on his white horse, or in this case, his black Cadillac and set about the countryside rescuing cute young boys.
That evening he had me move on information that we had gathered when one of Chris's throw away phones was activated. The call went to Tucson. I sent a specialized crew in to take an old man out to safety. After he was gone we examined the most sophisticated network of computers that any of my people had ever seen. They were pieced together with bits and pieces of cables that had been spliced together to make unusual connections. Everything was documented and schematics were drawn so that we could reassemble the set up here. An interview was arranged for the man the following afternoon so that he could get his rest from his trip to us.
The following few days were a mess as Chris ran back and forth. He kept me up on everything and I accompanied him to a couple of meetings. We were on the trail of the biggest bunch of really bad mother fuckers that I had ever heard of. The people who wanted to shut down the school was an international ring of white slavers. They were kidnaping children, right here in our own country then selling them as slaves to the highest bidder. The school had seriously dampened their boy supply, or so they thought. They had Chris listed as the head man at the school because he was supplying boys for big sex parties in New York.
He even brought the Crown Prince Cullen and offered him as a prostitute to the men at the party. A five million dollar price tag was placed on his head and they would double the current three quarter million dollar reward on Cullen if both of them could be taken at the same time. Before I could get Chris out of the country we had a gun held to our heads. Chris and some of my men were in a gun battle where Chris actually shot and killed one of the slavers.
I found out who was behind it all and had to lay a plan. I killed Chris and claimed the reward money. Now I knew who and I knew where. It was only a matter of time. Chris cannot be that easily satisfied. We had to go on a vacation to the French Riviera and find three boys that had been kidnaped off of American streets and were being led around on dog leashes to service men in broad open daylight on the streets of a quiet little fishing village where we were supposed to be relaxing. Yeah, we. The crazy momma humper dragged me over there with him. Something about needing a break today where there was no Rainbow Room, his silly name for McDonald's™ because of the Golden Arches which he says are gold rainbows, hence rainbow room. He is so crazy that you have to love him.
While we relaxed on the Riviera Chris located an old friend and his cronies and arranged for another really old friend of his, who just happened to be the chief of police for that province, to do a little torture chamber study. He wanted to know everybody involved. What we didn't know then is that we had been compromised from within and there was a systematic plan in place to get rid of all of us.
While Chris was playing with Tasers and bad guys, I got word that my precious daddy and his son, Tom had been killed in a automobile accident on a winding mountain road in southern New Mexico. I don't know what to do. I feel like all of these boys did just two days when I told them that Chris was dead, only this is for real. There is nobody else behind the scenes pulling my irons out of the fire. I am alone again. I am right back where I started seven years ago when I met the most wonderful person on earth.
Of course Andy is not alone and never will be. He will become a member of my household. He is already a member of my family. It is not going to be easy, the death of a loved one never is. I am going to help Andy remember the good times he had with Carl and where he is today because of the man. I have been on the telephone with Eddy all day. He is making funeral arrangements. I will fly home with Andy to bury our friend and lover. Eddy filled me in on the details as he knows them. Carl Dickson and his son, Tom were killed by a drunk when Carl's car was run off of the road on U.S. highway 70, a few miles east of Ruidosa, New Mexico, Halloween night, October 30th. Witness said that a west bound car was seen speeding and weaving back and forth across the road. The witness came around a curve and saw the flames from Carl's car down in a deep ravine. They ran to help and heard the screams of the two men trapped inside the twisted wreck. The bodies were positively identified as Carl and his son, Tom, who were on their way to Oklahoma to check out Base Chris. Eddy was going to fly in and meet them as soon as first quarter testing at college finished, giving him a five day break.
A new series lays in wait for those who only wish to masturbate.
You may find interest in these stories by Carl Dickson:
Currently running serialized sagas by Carl Dickson: