The Foxwood Chronicles
By FreeThinker

          The following may contain scenes of sexual activity between males. If you feel you may be offended by reading this or that it may be illegal for you to read this in your jurisdiction, please proceed no further. The author neither condones nor advocates the violation of any laws. Because the story begins in 1982, the characters portrayed herein may engage in behavior which could be considered unsafe or unwise, if not illegal. The author neither condones nor advocates unsafe or unwise behavior. The author, however, cheerfully condones and advocates exercising your imagination and your ability to think critically and rationally. Please do not copy or post this without the author’s permission.

            If you would like to read other stories I have written, you may go to the Prolific Authors link on the Nifty home page and choose “FreeThinker.”

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Be good. If you can’t be good, at least be interesting.


The Foxwood Chronicles
Chapter Ten

“This is good, Nana. I like chicken salad. It is healthy. I like the grapes in it. They are healthy. I like to eat grapes. Dylan hates to eat grapes. He likes to eat Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups. I do not like peanut butter. Mom says it is healthy and has lots of protein, but I do not like it. George Washington Carver invented peanut butter. He was a black man. He was smart but people hated him because he was black. Some people hate me because I am autistic. I do not know why people hate people who are different…”

The doorbell interrupted Adam’s monologue at the kitchen table as Dorothy Vanderlyn sat listening with a warm smile and Evan watched his friend with love in his eyes. Adam turned and watched the hallway until Margarete entered the kitchen with Adam’s mother. After the usual pleasantries, Mrs. Stuart announced, “Well, Adam, we need to get ready for the professors. Are you ready to go?”

“Yes. I have eaten a good healthy lunch. Nana is a good cook. She makes good chicken salad. I like her chicken salad. She puts grapes in it. It is good. I think…”

“Mrs. Stuart,” Evan asked, interrupting Adam’s response. “Adam is such an amazing piano player. Is one of the professors a music teacher?”

She shook her head.

“We found a mathematics teacher and a physics teacher who were interested. We don’t have the resources to let Adam study everything he’s good at or interested in. But, we’re trying. Aren’t we, sweetheart?”

She put an arm around Adam’s shoulder and hugged him. Adam pulled away. She smiled sadly.

“Adam hates for anyone to touch him or hold him. It’s part of the… you know.”

Evan found this interesting. Adam apparently had no trouble with either Dylan or Evan hugging him.

“Nana, you should hear Adam play the piano. He’s incredible.”

Dorothy looked to Adam’s mother and said, “He may not have time.”

Mrs. Stuart smiled.

“Of course. Maybe something short. Adam?”

The boy stood automatically and, suddenly, Evan felt he had made a mistake. Adam moved out of the room to the living room. There was something about the way he moved that made Evan think that he was not happy. It was as if he were simply performing for everyone’s amusement. He jumped up and ran after Adam as the ladies stood.

“Adam,” he whispered in the boy’s ear as they entered the living room and he put an arm around the boy’s shoulder. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I want to do this,” Adam replied flatly as he walked over to the upright piano. He stood before it for a moment before sitting down.

“Nana really likes Henry Mancini,” Evan said with a sarcasm in his voice that Adam, of course, missed. Dorothy smirked at him and Mrs. Stuart grinned.

“I think Adam can please you.”

“Yes,” said her son. “This is a pretty song. You will like it. It makes me happy and sad.”

Evan was half-afraid it would be “The Baby Elephant Walk” or the theme from The Pink Panther, but when Adam sat down and stared at the keys for a moment and then played the first four notes, Evan held his breath. Even though he was not familiar with “old people music,” he knew the love theme from Romeo and Juliet. He had even seen a video of Zeffirelli’s 1969 production, for which the piece had been written, even though it had been rated “X” when it was released, and fallen in lust with Romeo and the other beautiful young men in the cast. He proudly watched as Adam closed his eyes and swayed with the music. It was surprising to him how someone who could not, or, at least, had difficulty expressing emotion or feeling could do so with such skill through music. Adam would slow down in places, speed up in others and it was done in such a way that you knew just what he was feeling at each point.

Evan glanced at his grandmother and Mrs. Stuart. His grandmother’s eyes were moist and her hand was near her mouth. Adam’s mother had sat down and was biting her lip, her eyes moist with pride. Evan suddenly felt differently about his friend’s mother, feeling a bit more kindness and understanding toward her.

When the last chords died, Adam sat with his head bowed and eyes closed for several seconds, his face a blank as his mother and Evan’s grandmother began to clap vigorously.

“Oh, Adam,” Dorothy gushed, “ that was magnificent! Oh, Cynthia,” she said turning to Adam’s mother, “that boy is a prodigy. We must get him the proper training. I don’t care what it costs. I will help. Adam is… stunning.”

Mrs. Stuart smiled and lowered her eyes.

“I know. I know. We just don’t know…”

Dorothy placed a hand on Mrs. Stuart’s shoulder.

“You’re not alone. We can help, can’t we Evan.”

Yes,” Evan replied, smiling proudly at his grandmother.

Adam opened his eyes and stood awkwardly beside the piano.

“Did you like the song? It is pretty. I think it is my favorite. It makes me happy and sad.”

Evan grinned at his friend, but the smile suddenly turned to horror. Evan stood up quickly and hurried over to Adam, standing between the boy and the women to hide a very prominent, completely unmistakable erection in Adam’s shorts. Evan guided him outside to the porch as the ladies talked.

“Adam, dude,” he whispered into the boy’s ear. “You got a boner, man. You got to watch that.”

“OK,” Adam replied and looked downward.

“No, no. I mean, you have to be careful not to get a boner where people can see. It’s embarrassing.”

Adam looked back up.


Evan was stumped.

“Well, because. I mean, you just can’t get hard like that. It embarrasses people.”

“Why? I always get hard when something is beautiful. Don’t you?”

Evan looked at him in shock.

“You mean if something is beautiful, like music or art or something, you get hard?”

Adam nodded innocently.

“I get hard when I look at the stars. I always get hard when I play the piano.” He paused a moment and then added, “I get hard when I look at you.”

The front screen opened at that moment and the two women appeared.

“Come along, Adam,” said his mother. “We have to meet the professors. Thank you so much, Dorothy, for everything.”

“Oh, thank you, Cynthia. I’ll call you tonight to discuss the tutor.”

Adam followed his mother down the steps and toward the car. But as he reached the grass, he turned and announced, “I will set up my telescope tonight and look at the stars and planets. You will come over and look at them with me, Evan.”

“Sure,” Evan replied. “I’m playing tennis at the club this evening, but I can come over after, when it gets dark.”

“That is good. We will have fun. Good-bye.”

Evan smiled as he watched the remarkable boy walk to the car. It was not until they were driving down the street that he turned and saw the twinkle in his grandmother’s eye.

“Are you still disappointed that you left California?”

Evan rolled his eyes and went up to his room, though he did admit to himself that, yes, indeed, he was not unhappy to be in Foxwood.

It was difficult for Evan to keep himself occupied for the next few hours. At the peak of the afternoon heat, he went out for a walk through the neighborhood, passing, at one point, Brandon and Jeremy cooling off in the Atherton’s front yard. He waived and smiled, receiving a warm reply from Jeremy and a cool, curt nod from Brandon. He wasn’t certain, but he thought he heard a chuckle as he passed, but he decided to dismiss it as the usual silliness of twelve year-olds.

He did find himself with a semi-erection for most of the afternoon, however, as he considered possibilities revolving around looking at the stars with Adam that night. Would he be able to put his arms around him again, possibly kiss him, maybe even…? Then, he thought of tennis with Michael Sanchez and suddenly, his semi expanded.

No. Michael Sanchez was an arrogant ass. Ok, he was a hot, arrogant ass; a hot, sexy arrogant ass. OK, he had the hottest bod he had ever seen. And, those brown eyes and that smile. Michael knew just what you were thinking.

No. It was tennis. That was all. Just tennis. Nothing else.

All through dinner, he fought with himself, and wondered what had happened to him. He was Evan Vanderlyn. He could have anyone he wanted and usually did. What would be wrong with getting it on with Michael? He hadn’t really meant to be a jerk to Adam. And, Adam wasn’t his, Evan’s, boyfriend. What would be wrong with getting hot and nasty with Michael? Yet, he knew, he just knew it was wrong. He couldn’t define why. It just was. Not with Michael. It just wouldn’t be right.

After dinner, he went up to his room and changed into his tennis whites. He carefully arranged everything, taking special care to style his hair.

Damn, he thought. Manuel was fifteen hundred miles away and he needed a good cut. He’d have to ask Michael where he got his hair done in Foxwood. Oh, man. Michael’s hair, that thick, hot, dark hair. STOP!

Evan deliberately mussed his hair, picked up his racquet and a can of balls and stormed out of the room. As he walked across the yard toward the Huntington House and Country Club Drive, he tried to concentrate on looking at the stars with Adam after the tennis. Perhaps, he could get Michael to drop him off at Adam’s in that sexy red Corvette. Man, he could get hard just thinking about the car. But, sexy Michael driving that car. Now, that could make a dead man hard.

And, Evan was hard. Damn. How could he beat Michael if he was boned up the whole time? How could he stand to see that knowing smirk if the dickhead saw him hard? Maybe a quick jack in the men’s room before hand. He glanced at his watch, but it was almost seven. He sighed and walked faster, concentrating on different moves, different tricks he might use to confound Michael and get him off his game.

Strategizing helped Evan keep his mind off his hormones and his body’s reaction to them until he arrived at the club house. Shivering slightly from the cold air as he entered the lobby, he noticed two older men in golf drag eying him as he passed. Unconsciously, he swung his butt with just a touch more sass as he walked into the grill and he fought to keep his smirk from being too obvious.

Michael was leaning against the bar drinking another Gatorade. He nodded with a friendly smile and Evan was surprised to see no hint of cockiness in the greeting. It was a completely normal and pleasant welcome. Michael pointed to his glass and held up two fingers.

“Well, ready for a workout?” he asked without any hint of innuendo. Evan was relieved that the conversation seemed to be progressing in such a completely innocent and innocuous way.

“Yeah. I could use a good workout,” he replied, also without innuendo. “It’s been almost a week.”

Evan took only a few sips of his Gatorade, while Michael ignored his before he led the boy through the grill and toward the door leading to the courts.

“Let me see your racquet,” he asked Evan, who proudly handed it too him.

“Sweet. Not bad,” he replied with admiration.

“Yeah. I had it made custom,” Evan replied.

“Yeah,” Michael replied. “That’s the way to go. Fit it to your grip, your swing, your strength. I’m impressed.”

Evan was feeling so pumped with that comment. He felt like an equal. He knew Michael was probably going to win. Michael was nineteen, but Evan wanted to at least impress him and Michael’s entire demeanor, so different from the knowing, smirky manner of before, was putting him more at ease and building his confidence. He pulled a sweatband from his pocket and slipped it over his wrist as they entered the stadium, all the time watching Michael’s ass sway back and forth with each step. He quickly looked away and took his place to serve.

Michael watched Evan carefully, but just as the boy was about to serve, his left hand moved to his shorts and slowly rubbed his crotch. Evan served and faulted immediately. Michael laughed.

“That doesn’t count,” he said with a good natured smile, grinning at Evan’s hilarious consternation. “I just wanted to fuck with you.”

Evan pulled another ball from his pocket and glared at Michael, who immediately took his stance and became all business.

Evan’s first “real” serve was perfect and Michael easily returned it. Evan sent it back to Michael’s left and he had to run to backhand it back to Evan, who easily sent it off to Michael’s right.

“Fifteen-love,” he sneered with a sweet grin, vamping the word love. Michael winked.

The first set was fairly even and Michael was surprised at how well Evan was playing. When he finally won the first set 6-4, he saluted Evan with his racquet.

“You’re pretty good, Little Man.

“Thanks,” Evan replied proudly. “Of course, you’ve been playing all day.”

“Oh, I’m not too tired to still kick your ass,” Michael replied with a grin, and to prove his point, his next serve zinged right past Evan, who almost tripped trying to return. Regaining his composure, he took a deep breath.

They were tied, 3-3 in the second set. Evan was starting to get winded. He was playing at the top of his game, despite a week-long hiatus and no real psychological prepping for the match, and he was starting to think he might actually win the second set; but, he was down love-forty when he realized that it wasn’t going to happen. He lost the second set 6-4 on a perfect zing to his right that he had anticipated would go left.

Michael and he were both drenched with perspiration as they approached the net and shook hands.

“You’re good, Little Man,” Michael said, meeting Evan’s eyes and holding them. “Real good. What the fuck are you doing in Foxwood?”

“I’ve been asking myself that question,” Evan replied as they walked off the court. They joined each other on the other side of the chain link fence and Michael dropped onto a bench. He set his racquet down to his left and raised his right arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead as Evan dropped down beside him.

“The only reason I won is that I’m bigger. Dude, you have talent.”

“I know,” Evan replied bitterly.

Michael looked at him closely.

“You’re really pissed to be here, aren’t you,” he said softly.

          Evan looked away and couldn’t reply.

          “Hey,” said Michael, touching Evan under the chin and guiding his face toward him. “I understand. I really do. We moved here from Miami when I was fourteen. I thought I had died and gone to Hell and I didn’t have anyone to help me out. So, I’m going to help you out. How’s that?”

          Evan looked up at Michael’s deep brown eyes and suddenly felt weak. Michael wasn’t being the arrogant, smirking cock of earlier. He was sincere and Evan was melting before him.

          “You’re good. I’m going to work with you and I’m going to make you a real winner.”

          Michael raised his right hand and cupped the side of Evan’s face, entwining his fingers in the softly cut blond hair on the side of his head.

          “So pretty,” he whispered. “So pretty.”

          Slowly, he lowered his face. Evan felt sweat dripping down his forehead; his clothes were damp and his penis became instantly rigid as Michael’s lips touched his.

          Evan closed his eyes and breathed in Michael’s hot, sweaty man smell. The nineteen year-old’s lips gently rubbed against Evan’s, teasing, pulling, loving them. As the sun sank below the trees to the west and the undulating songs of the cicadas floated over the grounds, a subtle breeze touched the dampness of Evan’s arms and legs and sent a chill through him that met the chill created by Michael’s kiss. He groaned and Michael pulled slowly away.

          Evan opened his eyes and saw Michael look at him with feeling. Michael ran his fingers across Evan’s tanned, lightly freckled cheeks and smiled.

          “I’m flying to Monterrey for a week the beginning of August. Do you think you might want to come along? I’m hoping to get some serious tennis in and I think you’d really like it.”

          He ran his index finger along Evan’s lips, playing with the soft, almost nonexistent down on the upper lip, and then teasingly pushed it though the lips and into Evan’s mouth. The fourteen year-old sucked it, running his tongue all along the finger. Michael slowly pushed it all the way in and then, just as slowly, pulled it out as Evan made love to it.

          “Mmmm. Mmm, hmmm,” he replied around the finger.

          “Maybe we can make love on the beach under the moonlight,” Michael whispered into Evan’s ear. The boy simply groaned helplessly around the finger as it made another trip into his mouth.

          Slipping his left arm around Evan, Michael pulled the boy up and whispered into his ear, “I think I need a shower. Why don’t you join me?”

          Evan was intoxicated with the arousing smell of sweaty man and desperately wanted to beg Michael to take him right there. However, he simply nodded worshipfully as Michael withdrew his finger from Evan’s mouth. Michael leaned down and picked up a couple of tennis balls.

          “Here,” he said with an understanding smile. “Put these in your pockets. We going through the back way to the locker room, but we still might run into someone.”

          Evan complied and, as Michael casually draped an arm around his shoulder, followed him up the walk toward the clubhouse. Michael’s arm dropped as they passed the plate glass window of the grill. Evan looked in as they walked toward the locker room and saw several men seated at a nearby table with cocktails and beer. One of the men he recognized as his grandmother’s insurance salesman, Jesse’s and Jeremy’s father, the grouch from Sunday. Apparently, his mood had nit improved for he glared at Michael with open disdain. However, it was when his eyes met Evan’s that the boy felt a chill, entirely different from the ones he had experienced just moments before. The look was one of absolute contempt. Evan turned quickly away as they passed out of view of the window. He started to comment, but chose to remain silent.

          As they entered the locker room, Michael turned him toward him and gave a quick, gentle kiss to his lips.

          “Go on and get in the shower. I have to close up and lock up. It’s part of my job.”

          “No one’l come in?” Evan breathed.

          Michael shook his head. He smiled again, his eyes melting any resistance in Evan, and turned away.

Evan slowly, his legs weak, walked toward a bench near the door to the showers. Rigid, his hands shaking uncontrollably, feeling as if he were in a trance, he sat down and untied his sneakers. Slipping them and his socks off, he felt his heart beat with the thrill, the excitement of knowing, of knowing, something hot, something hot, was about to happen. His mouth was dry and his breathing was ragged as he stood and slipped his white Lacoste over his head. Looking behind him and seeing the locker room was still empty, he unsnapped his shorts and hooking his thumbs inside both the shorts and his briefs, and slipped them down to the floor. He almost moaned as his penis snapped up in the cool air conditioned damp of the locker room. The moist, locker room smell added to his raging lust as he slowly walked, luxuriating in his nudity, toward the showers.

The club’s showers were communal, one large and long room with a dozen shower heads protruding from the beige tiled walls. Evan walked to one on the far wall, with his back to the door, his firm erection bobbing as he walked. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt almost as if he were in a trance. He turned one of the knobs and then the second, waiting for the water temperature to stabilize before stepping under the water.

It was not until he had been standing under the water, allowing it to flow over his tremulous body, for several minutes, letting him lose track of time, that he felt rather than heard Michael approach from behind. It was the warmth of his body Evan felt radiated against his back as the nineteen year-old approached that informed him he was no longer alone. He felt the tip of Michael’s erection touch the small of his back over the cheeks of his ass. It paused there for a moment as a surge of lust burst through Evan’s young body. He moaned as he leaned back and felt the huge cock slide upward against his smooth skin.

Michael moaned softly as his large, strong hands touched Evan’s bare hips. Slowly, they slid down Evan’s firm thighs as his mouth descended toward Evan’s neck. Convulsively, Evan’s body quaked as Michael’s hot, moist breath caressed the sensitive skin of his neck and throat. Evan cried out as Michael’s tongue emerged from his lips and teased his neck. The boy leaned back, slipping his hands behind him to grasp Michael’s hips. He pulled him toward him as tightly as he could as Michael’s hands slid down and inside his thighs.

Michael’s tongue and lips moved up and he breathed into Evan’s ear, moaning just enough to be audible to the boy over the falling water. His lips just touched the cup of his ear and he softly moaned into the boy as his hands slid along the smooth inside of his thighs, They neared Evan’s tight balls and throbbing erection, but slid to the side just as the boy was anticipating the hands grasping him. Instead, they slid up the front of his hips and the strong fingers entwined in his silky flaxen public hair.

Michael moaned again in Evan’s ear and whispered, “Sweet. So sweet.”

His tongue suddenly plunged into Evan’s ear and the boy cried out again, his penis jumping with another surge of lust so strong that Evan was certain he would cum any second.

“Little Man,” Michael breathed into his ear, “sweet, pretty Little Man.”

Evan was moaning non-stop as Michael’s strong hands moved up his stomach, sending quake-like chills through the boy’s hyper-excited nervous system. As they rose, they pulled him closer and tighter into Michael’s strong, steaming body. The young man’s mouth became rougher and more insistent as he made oral love to the teenager’s neck and face.

“I want you, Little Man. I want to make love to you. I want to be inside you,” he softly whispered. “I want to fuck you.”

His hands cupped over Evan’s pectorals and squeezed, almost hurting the boy, who cried out.

“Fuck me,” he groaned.

“Not tonight, Little Man,” Michael replied and his hands kneaded the boy’s chest. “But, soon. Soon we will lay together,” he whispered, “and I will make such love to you.”

His fingers began to work, to rub and pinch and pull, Evan’s rigid nipples and the boy cried out again.

“Uhaaaaaaah. Oh, God. Oh, my God.”

Michael, relentless, licked all around Evan’s neck and ear as his fingers brutally, lovingly drove the boy beyond desperation. Evan’s hands were sliding all around Michael’s hips and ass cheeks, wanting to feel as much of the hunky nineteen year-old as possible.

Suddenly, Michael’s fingers relented in their work on his nipples and his index fingers simply rubbed the rigid nubbins. Evan had become incomprehensible as he moaned and muttered nonsense, his mind beyond all rationality.

After several minutes, Michael grasped Evan by the shoulders and turned him around so they were facing each other. Evan’s eyes hungrily took in the naked magnificence of Michael’s body, his pecs and abs, his thick arms and the dark hair underneath, the rigid, thick nine-inch penis standing up before him. Evan’s eyes looked upward into Michael’s as if he were worshiping a god and his hands grasped the unyielding, iron-hard shaft of Michael’s cock. He pulled the foreskin back. Oh, yes. His foreskin. Evan dearly, passionately loved foreskins. His years with Ricky and Robert had taught him the joys of foreskins.

Michael’s right hand slid underneath Evan’s butt and his left wrapped around his slim torso. Michael easily lifted the fourteen year-old , bringing Evan’s mouth even with him. Hungrily, the two kissed as Michael fucked his tongue into Evan’s mouth and the boy eagerly sucked it in. Evan groaned into the young man’s throat and Michael answered, sending the vibrations of his voice deep within the boy. Evan wrapped his slim, firm legs around Michael’s hips and the college man walked through the shower, carrying the boy toward the locker room.

Evan was beyond understanding and was unaware he was anywhere other than in Michael’s arms with Michael’s tongue buried deep within his mouth. Michael stepped up and then down and Evan realized they had entered a whirlpool. His penis jumped. The first time Ricky and Robert had ever made love to him was in a hot tub.

Michael sat down and Evan sat in his lap, facing him, his knees bent and thighs open wide. Evan’s penis was laying stiffly against Michael’s and instinctively, he began to fuck against the nineteen year-old.

“Precious, beautiful Evan,” Michael whispered into the blonde’s mouth. Michael’s left hand brutally shoved the boy’s face against his and he mercilessly took control of Evan’s mouth as his right hand took control of and explored the boy’s body. Evan writhed and twisted in every possible way against Michael as the older boy, man, made brutal, passionate love to him.

Evan had no idea how long they had remained like that, he sitting on Michael’s thick, hard thighs as the college man loved him, took him. And, it came as a complete surprise when suddenly, Michael’s hands slipped under Evan’s arms and began to lift the boy up.

“Stand up,” Michael ordered, and the dizzy, weak boy stood unsteadily on the step below which Michael was sitting. His throbbing boner, aching for release, stood bobbing rigidly before Michael’s face and immediately, the young man’s mouth moved forward. He began to lick the sensitive area between Evan’s balls and his thighs and then upward, around, and through the silky boyish pubic hair. Evan cried out as his steel-hard penis rubbed against the evening shadow on Michael’s cheeks. But, he screamed when Michael pulled back and then plunged down on his six inches of hard boy cock.

It took only three plunges, taking the boy completely into his mouth and down his throat, before Evan screamed again. His body convulsed and only Michael’s strong hands and arms holding him up prevented the teenager from collapsing as he orgasmed fiercely into the young man’s hungry mouth. Spasm after spasm exploded through the boy as he held Michael’s head and desperately tried to fight against Michael’s hands to fuck his mouth. When he finally sighed and then cried out from the sensitivity of his penis as Michael’s mouth continued to milk him, the nineteen year-old finally allowed him to sit down.

Evan leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Michael’s neck, resting his head against the strong, thick chest as he whimpered. Michael’s hands lovingly caressed the boy’s shoulders and head as he softly whispered, “Little Man, sweet Little Man.”

Evan would have been content to spend the rest of the night in that position, with Michael’s strong arms holding him against his strong, manly chest, his warm breath on his neck, the warm, bubbling water flowing sensually around them. However, after a long moment, Michael pulled his face away and smiled into Evan’s dreamy blue eyes.

“It’s time for us to go, Little Man.”

Evan smiled.

“I haven’t made you cum yet.”

“Not tonight. Soon. Come.”

Michael stood and carried Evan out of the whirlpool.

“Get dressed,” he said in a loving way that Evan felt, subliminally, was still an order. He obeyed and watched as Michael, still rigid, his body still obviously taut with sexual tension and desire, pulled his sweaty tennis whites back on. Evan sensed some slight impatience as he struggled to dress himself. Michael was waiting at the door of the locker room as Evan grabbed his racquet, forgetting his tennis balls, and hurried toward him.

“You don’t mind walking home, do you?” Michael asked the perplexed boy as they emerged into the darkness outside the locker room. “I have some place I need to be.”

“Um, well, no. That’s OK.”


Michael leaned down and kissed Evan quickly on the mouth and then took off in a jog toward the parking lot, leaving the teenager alone and torn on the sidewalk behind the club house.

Slowly, he began to walk around the building toward the parking lot and the road back into town. It was only a ten minute walk back home, but Evan felt as if he had just been abandoned. That had to be the best sex he had experienced with anyone other than Ricky and Robert. It blew away What’s-hi-name, the famous actor that everyone thought was so straight but who was obsessed with cute blonde boys. The only time he had ever felt the way he had with Michael was in his most intense and passionate moments with the Martinez brothers. He was ready to devote his life to Michael.

And, then… this.

He hadn’t cum. He just jumped up after making Evan cum and was gone. Just like that. Evan felt like he had been made love to by the most incredible man on earth and, then, spat out and thrown away. In a state of shock, he trudged through the parking lot and past the entrance.

What the fuck, Evan thought to himself. No one had ever done that to him before. Sure, he had done that to other guys, but it was usually trolls at parties who wanted to suck his dick behind the pool house. Of course, the men had declared their undying love for him, but he had just wanted to get away from them after shooting in their mouths. Was this what it felt like to be them? Oh, man. Oh, fuck.

He felt dirty, filthy. And, he knew that if Michael looked at him again, he’d do it again in a heartbeat. How disgusting.

As he walked along the fence bordering the seventeenth fairway, he looked up at the southern sky. The moon, just beyond half-full, hung in a perfectly clear sky. The stars were so bright, so clear, and there were so many of them, so many more than in LA. It was beautiful. There were four particularly bright stars to the right of the moon and one of them was moving upward. Maybe it was a satellite. He’d have to ask Adam.


Evan froze in horror.

“Oh, my God!” he said out loud. “Adam!”

            Evan took off running along the dark road, stumbling and just barely recovering. Was he too late? Evan hated himself. How could he have done this to Adam? But, with contempt for himself, he realized the answer and knew it was not impossible that it could happen again.

Thank you for reading Chapter Nine of The Foxwood Chronicles. Please let me know what you thinkat fthinker @ Also, please check out my blog at for interesting discussions of politics, religion, and all the things your mother warned you not to discuss in polite society. Thank you!!!