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:

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.