This
story concerns teenage gay males who are involved in sexual
situations. If it is illegal for you to read such stories, or if you do
not like to read such stories, please leave now.
This story is copyright 2006 by the author who retains all rights.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents
either are the product of the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is
entirely coincidental.
This is my second submission to Nifty. This is a continuation of
“Kiel’s Story” which was last posted on 7/24/06. It is not necessary to
read “Kiel’s Story” before reading this, but it may help you understand
where the character relationships started. Any comments or questions
are welcome at: carl_holiday@att.net
A warm thank you goes out to all who’ve written. I appreciate knowing
someone is actually reading this stuff. I try to respond to all,
including flames, but time is precious in my life, so if I didn’t
answer yours, please accept my apology.
Tim and the Corsair
by Carl Holiday
Chapter 16 – Dear Diary, Part 4
May 24, 1965
Dear Jeff,
Father
Frank came back today. He performed just like he remembered doing Billy
James
back in the late Thirties. I was having so much fun I forgot what I was
doing
and came seven times. I’m not supposed to do that here. Mama doesn’t
like me
showing off to the customers, but Father Frank was so impressed he said
he
wasn’t going to jack off until he comes back in two weeks. He said he
was going
to fuck me until I couldn’t sit down for a week. I told him Mama would
shoot
him if he did that.
Later
as he was rubbing himself against me trying to get it up one more time,
I
started talking about home and how much I wanted to get back there. I
told him
about my mother and father being killed and how they were trying to
give me to
the pornographers to satisfy their debt. I guess I kind of lost it a
little and
started to sort of cry. Father Frank kissed me on the mouth. He’s never
done
that. That must have done something for him because he got real hard
and shoved
his dick right up into me. He fucked me real hard.
I
told him it was a shame I couldn’t go home with him. And he said, “Why
not? In
fact, that’s a great idea.”
After
he left (he gave me a two hundred dollar tip) Mama came into my room
and
slapped my face real hard. Then she locked my door.
I
guess I’ll be off the market for awhile.
Jun. 27, 1965
Dear
Jeff,
Father
Frank came back and I was released from jail. Well, it certainly felt
like
jail. He fucked me like he did the last time and I did my frequent
coming
trick. Then he got me to talking about home and I started crying. Then
he
fucked me real hard, just like last time. The he left, but didn’t give
me a
tip.
Then
Mama locked me up, again.
Something
is going on.
No
one talks to me, including Little Johnny. He hasn’t even asked for a
blowjob.
It’s almost like I’m being kept here for Father Frank, to be used by
him alone.
Jul. 18, 1965
Dear
Jeff,
Father
Frank came back today and fucked me like last time. I haven’t been with
anyone
since he was here last. No one talks to me. I can go wherever I want in
the
house or out in the fenced compound, but no one seems to be interested
in me.
Something
is definitely going on, but Mama won’t talk to me. Little Johnny
slapped me
real hard yesterday and told me to stop trying to talk to him. He said
we’re
not friends, anymore.
Aug. 23, 1965
Dear
Jeff,
This
morning Father Frank came to the ranch and took me away. Mama wasn’t
there and
Little Johnny didn’t say anything to me when we left. The few things
that were
mine, including the picture of Geoff, fit in a small paper bag. Little
Johnny
handed me an envelope. I thought it might be a note from him, but there
was
over a thousand dollars in there. It was my escape fund.
It
took over five hours to drive to Father Frank’s house. He’s not a real
priest.
He used to be one, but he left the church when they told him he
couldn’t have
boys living in his house. He runs a hardware store in Ash Grove,
California, and has a house overlooking the Sacramento River, except my
room doesn’t have any windows.
I’m
in the basement. There is a heavy steel door leading into my room. The
walls,
floor, and ceiling are smooth concrete. There is a six inch grated
drain in the
middle of the floor. In the corner by the door there is a bucket where
I can
piss and shit. There is a metal bunk with a couple blankets where I can
sleep.
There is a single bare light bulb in the ceiling.
I
have my diary and a pencil. I don’t have anything else, not even
clothes.
Father
Frank hasn’t given me any food or water. He said I’ll have to earn
them. He
didn’t say what I had to do. I haven’t eaten anything since last night.
I’m
hungry. I told Father Frank that and he backhanded me. He said when I
learn my
place in his home I can have sustenance. I’m beginning to think I might
have
been better off at the ranch, but it’s a little late to think like that.
Sometime
Later
Dear
Jeff,
Billy
doesn’t know what day it is or what year. Father has been good to Billy
today.
He gave Billy a cup of water this morning. He said Billy is a good boy.
He said
if Billy is a good boy when he comes home from the hardware store,
he’ll let Billy
get some fresh air in the outdoor cage. Billy hasn’t been outside in a
long
time.
Billy
can’t remember his real name. Billy can’t remember when Father started
calling
in him Billy, but it has been a long time. Billy doesn’t remember
anything
anymore. Billy can’t remember who Jeff is.
Sometime
Later
Dear
Jeff,
They
say Billy killed Father. Billy thinks that might be true, but Billy
isn’t
certain of anything. They make Billy where clothes. Billy told them
Father
doesn’t let Billy where clothes. They say Billy killed Father.
They
are taking Billy somewhere.
Goodbye.