This is a fictional story dealing with love and consensual sexual activities between males.  If you are not of legal age, reside in an area where viewing such material is illegal, or are offended by homosexuality and/or homosexual themes, leave this site now.

The author retains all rights to this story.  No reproductions or links to other sites are allowed without the permission of the author.

Note: Thanks to Tim and Rock for feedback on the draft chapters.  I owe a special thanks to Robb for doing the final proofreading and catching all those silly little errors I missed.


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by Jeff Allen



I had the door opened before Caleb could knock.

"Hello, Trey. Can I come in?"

I held the door open for him. "This is about Pat, isn't it? What's happened?"

Caleb sighed and put his hand on my upper arm. "Trey, we found Pat's truck parked along River Road just outside of town. Pat wasn't in it. The driver's door was open and there was an empty whiskey bottle on the passenger's seat."

I backed up and shook my head. "Pat doesn't drink. There's no way that he would have a bottle of booze in the truck. Something's happened."

"I know Pat doesn't drink, and I told that to the Sheriff. I asked dispatch to check with the Fish and Wildlife folks. All the wildlife officers have cell phones with a GPS chip in them. Pat's phone is off line. It's either turned off or broken. I take it that you haven't talked with him."

"No. He thought he'd be home by mid-afternoon. He was going to start dinner, but when Marty and I got home, no one was here. We figured Pat had gotten held up with something. When he wasn't here by the time we had dinner, I started to get worried."

Marty and B.B. came around the corner into the entrance way.

"Hey, there's a sheriff's car out fr. . . oh, hi, Officer Stuart."

Marty's eyes danced from Caleb's face to mine. "What's going on? Is this about Dad?"

"Marty, your dad is missing. Do you have any idea where he might be?"

"He was talking about checking some of the trout streams today and then swinging by the Reserve, but I don't know which streams he was going to check."

"We found his truck abandoned just outside of town."

"That doesn't make any sense. Most of the streams he would be checking on are on this side of the county. You've got to look for him."

"We've got every sheriff's patrol car looking for him right now. The Sheriff said that if we don't find your dad tonight, we'll mount a full blown search effort in the morning."

"But he might be hurt. You've got to start looking for him now!"

"We are looking for him, Marty, but we can't really start a full scale search until daylight."

"Okay, I'm sorry I snapped at you."

"That's okay, I understand. I've got to get back on patrol. If you hear anything from your dad, you call me to let me know about it."


I walked Caleb out to his patrol car. As he opened the driver's door, he turned to me. "Will you guys be all right?"

"I think so, thanks. I need to pull myself together for Marty's sake."

Caleb gave me a hug. "I understand that this is hard for you, especially after losing Brian. I'll let you know as soon as we find him."

"Thanks, Caleb."

I went back into the house. Marty and B.B. were sitting on the couch. B.B. had a protective arm thrown over Marty's shoulder.

Marty looked up at me. "Can we go out to look for dad?"

I hesitated. On one hand, I didn't want to be away from the house in case Pat called or came back. On the other hand, I couldn't see sitting around all night waiting for that to happen. All of the pain of losing Brian and the fear of losing Pat was threatening to burst out of me. I didn't think I could prevent the emotions from overpowering me. Activity . . . any kind of activity was preferable to just sitting in the house trying to keep my tears in check.

"Let's go."

We grabbed our coats, three heavy duty flashlights and started out the door. Marlene howled in protest.

"Trey, can we take Marlene with us? She wants to go."

"Okay, maybe she'll be able to smell Pat, but we've got to be careful of her paw."

Everyone loaded into the old Volvo. I drove. B.B. had shotgun and Marty rode in the back with Marlene. We put the back window down a couple of inches and Marlene kept her nose pressed up to the crack.

That morning, Pat had said he was going to check some of the trout streams before going back to the Reserve. We decided to start at the Reserve and work backwards. We didn't know when Pat's truck had been abandoned . . . more likely stolen, but we figured that if it'd been left beside the road earlier in the day, the sheriff's deputies would have spotted it earlier.

We first went to the site of the former ranger cabin. Nothing was there except the blackened remains of Pat and Marty's former house. Marlene sniffed some then settled her butt back down in the seat and laid her snout on my head rest. We took that as a sign that Pat wasn't there.

Next we started checking the various small roads leading into the Reserve. There had to be a couple dozen of them. Marlene got excited when we pulled into a small service road at the south end of the Reserve, but then she settled back down again.

Marty said, "I think Dad was here. Marlene smelled him, but then the scent didn't get any stronger when we went a little down the road. Maybe we're getting close."

I found a place to turn around and headed back out to the main road.

Marlene got excited again when we turned into the next trail. This time she got more excited the further we went into the Reserve.

I rounded a curve in the narrow road and slammed on the breaks. An old pickup truck was parked blocking the road. Marlene was going nuts. I was sure that Pat had to be close by.

"Marty, put Marlene's leash on her and then hold her tight. I think she'll lead us to your dad."

We stepped out into the cold night. The rain had stopped, but the damp chill went right to your bones.

Marlene surged forward on the end of the leash. She led us around the parked truck which was parked at the start of a clearing in the woods. Our flashlights illuminated the form of another much newer truck parked facing us on the other side of the clearing.

Marlene headed straight for the parked truck. Even without the flashlights I could see that either the tires were flattened or the truck was stuck in some ruts. The frame of the truck sat way too close to the ground.

Suddenly, lights came on behind us.

"Stop right there and turn `round."

I turned. The headlights of the older truck were on high beam. A figure was standing between the lights close to the truck, but I couldn't see anything else because of the glare of the headlights.

"Don't you three move a muscle. I got me a shotgun here. I cain't miss from this distance. Well, well, look what we got here. I got me the ranger man's boy, the faggot coach, and a big buck nigger. Y'all come to try to find the ranger man? Well, I got him pinned down under that truck over yonder. The sonabitch let the air out of my tires. I woulda kilt him the first time, but he got under the truck. I came back to finish the job and get my truck back. Now y'all show up and spoil my little plan."

In a whisper I said to Marty and B.B., "You guys start moving very slowly away from me. If we're too far apart, he can't get all of us with the shotgun." Then I looked up at the lights toward our captor.

"I'll bet you're Roland Finch. The Sheriff's been looking for you. Why don't you put down the gun? You can't get away with this."

"Says you. I'll be long gone from here `for they find the bodies."

He started to raise the gun.

I shouted, "Drop and roll!"

The shotgun went off, and I felt the blast of buckshot pass over my back as I lay on the ground.

Marlene growled. Marty yelled, "Get him!" She was across the small clearing in and instant and latched her teeth onto Finch's arm. He screamed in pain. I saw B.B. running toward them. Finch was so busy trying to get Marlene off his arm that he didn't have time to react to B.B.'s charge. B.B. wrapped his big arms around Finch from behind and lifted him off the ground. Marty called to Marlene, and she released her hold.

Finch struggled and screamed obscenities, calling B.B. a `stupid nigger' and the rest of us `god-damned faggots,' but B.B. kept his arms wrapped tightly around the struggling man. B.B. put his mouth near Finch's ear and said something to him. Whatever he said worked. Finch went quiet and stopped struggling.

Marty ran to my Volvo and brought back the length of rope that I kept in the back end. He and B.B. hog-tied Finch with the rope.

While they were busy tying up the suddenly very compliant Finch, I hurried over to where Marlene had disappeared under the truck with the flat tires. I got down on the ground and looked under the truck. Pat was there! I wiggled under the truck and felt for a pulse in his neck. God, his skin was cold. There was a pulse but it was weak. We needed to get him to a hospital quickly!

I stuck my head out from under the truck and yelled to the boys, "Pat's under the truck. He's alive, but he needs help! Call 911 and tell them that we need an ambulance right now!"

B.B. pulled out his cell phone while Marty crawled under the truck to see his dad.

"Trey, is he gonna be okay? He's so cold."

"He's breathing. Go back to my car. There's a survival blanket in the safety kit that's in the compartment with the spare tire. Let's get it wrapped around him. I think he's hypothermic." I hoped that was all it was.

B.B.'s big body moved as far as possible under the truck. "An ambulance is on its way. I'll take your car back out to the road to meet them. I called the Sheriff's office, too. They should have a car out here soon to take care of Mr. Finch."

"Finch was really struggling but then stopped. What did you say to him?"

"I told him if he didn't stop wiggling around and calling us all those bad names that I'd squeeze him until he passed out, then I'd stick my big black cock up his scrawny white ass and fuck him to death. He got real quiet after that."

"B.B., are you sure you're straight?"

"Straight as they come, but my `brothers' are gay. Guess some of their trash talk has rubbed off on me. I'll go meet the ambulance."

Just then, Marty came back with the survival blanket. We opened it up and spread it out over Pat and tucking it up underneath him as much as we could without moving him.

"Marty, go check on Finch and make sure he's still tied securely."

When Marty was gone, I moved my mouth as close to Pat's ear as I could and whispered, "Don't you die on us, Pat. Marty needs you. I love you. I need you. Don't you die on us, do you hear me?"

His eyes flickered open. Ever so slowly and softly he whispered, "I love you, Trey," before his eyes closed again.

I cried.


Oh God, I was starting to feel warm again.

I had been so cold. First there was the pain. Ankle, knee, shoulder. Then the cold. Finally the cold began to take away the pain. The cold became numbness, and the numbness was so much better than the cold. I could go to sleep. Yes, sleep. If I slept, even the numbness might go away.

I don't know how long I was there before I was aware of Trey next to me. "Don't you die on us, Pat. Marty needs you. I love you. I need you. Don't you die on us, do you hear me?"

"I love you, Trey."

Hands touched me. Moved me. Lights and noise. Then bright lights in my eyes and lots of voices. Now, I was starting to feel warmth. But the pain came back with the warmth. I moaned. More voices. More hands. More pain. Then nothing.

Why was it so hard to wake up? I finally opened my eyes. Trey and Marty were asleep in chairs next to me. I went back to sleep.

Voices. Voices coming closer.

"I think he's waking up!"

Trey held my hand. I turned my head. Marty was holding my other hand. They were crying.

I was in a hospital room. I remembered Roland Finch attacking me. I'd crawled under his truck to escape his attack. When Finch left I'd gotten out from under the truck and tried to stand, but I just couldn't do it. I must have passed out. When I came to, I wiggled myself back under the truck. I was wet and cold. So cold.

When I was fully awake, the doctors explained my injuries. My right ankle and left knee were badly sprained. The docs explained that those would heal within a week or ten days. My right shoulder blade was another story. It had been broken. I now had pins holding it together and the recovery from that was going to take several months. Finch's shovel had really done a number on me there.

While I was only in the hospital for two more days, someone was by my side all the time. Trey and Marty were there of course, but Parker, Karl, Donnie, TJ, Grant, Micah, and B.B. were there as well. People told me what B.B. and Marlene had done. When I thanked him, B.B. tried to make light of his bravery and quickly changed the subject.

Marlene was so excited when I finally got home, that she peed all over the front hallway. Then for the next week she didn't leave my side except for food and going outside to do her business.

It took longer than I thought it would to be really mobile. I couldn't put too much strain on either my ankle or my knee. It seemed like one or the other was always weak. I used a crutch, and several times, that was the only thing that kept me from planting my face into the floor.

Not everything involved with my recovery was bad.

Showers were really nice!

Because I couldn't safely stand by myself in the shower, Trey put a stool in the shower stall for me to sit on. The first couple of showers after I came home were pretty vanilla affairs. Trey would help me get onto the stool and then join me in the shower to wash my back and help me rinse.

The third day home, I threw a woodie in the shower. Trey went down on his knees and took me in his mouth. I didn't last long. Trey must have been has horny as I was. I felt his hot load splashing against shins as I came in his mouth.

The next day when I threw another woodie, Trey lathered up my dick with soap, turned around and sat down on me! Heaven!

That night we experimented and found that if I lay on my left side and supported my right shoulder with pillows, Trey could enter me from the back without causing a problem for my very sore shoulder.

Like they say . . . if there's a will, there's a way.


My dad was almost fully recovered by the time we got out of school for the summer. He still limped every once in a while and he really favored his right arm and shoulder, but he was well on the mend.

Not that being injured had slowed him and Trey down in the sex department. Man, it was so obvious that they were going at it about twice a day. The long showers. The satisfied smiles on their faces after the showers. The groans from their bedroom that kept me awake several nights. I mean, I know they're not old, but they were going at it like a couple of teenagers. They were getting sex more than Micah and I!

Right after school got out, Trey took Dad, Micah, Grant, B.B. and me down to the beach for two weeks. We stayed at a fantastic beach house that was owned by the family of Brian Barnes, who'd been Trey's partner before he died.

We had a great time. Us four boys went into Myrtle Beach a couple of times. We scoped out the bodies on the beach, ate lots of seafood, went deep sea fishing (B.B. got real sea sick), played in the surf, and developed really dark tans . . . well, B.B. had a large natural head start on the rest of us in the tanning competition and since Grant and Micah were half black, they tanned really quickly. Even at the end of the two weeks, I was still pretty pale compared to them.

It was during those two weeks that Micah and I gave ourselves to each other for the first time.

We'd done a lot of oral stuff before, but I had been kinda reluctant to try anal love making. I'd let Micah lick me down there and even run his finger around my hole, but every time he tried to put his finger inside me I'd tense up. My experience with Kevin raping me would come flooding back and my sphincter muscle would clamp so tightly there was no way Micah's finger would be able to get in there without a lot of pain on my part. Micah was a different story. He really enjoyed having my finger up his butt. In fact I'd brought him off several times by just holding his dick in my mouth while I rubbed his prostate with my finger.

It was the middle of the first week at the beach when Micah lost his cherry. He told me later that he'd made up his mind that morning. He was really sexy and teasing all day. By the time we went to bed that night I knew the night was going to be special.

We'd taken a long walk on the beach after dinner. When we got back to the house, Dad and Trey were already in bed, and Grant and B.B. were watching some action thriller on TV. I watched a little of the movie and chatted with Grant and B.B. while Micah took his shower. When I heard the water turn off in our room, I said good-night to Grant and B.B. and went in to take my shower.

Micah was stretched out on the bed waiting for me. There was a single candle burning on the dresser. God, he looked so sexy! I slid into bed with him and we started kissing and touching. After a little of that, he rolled over on his back, pulling me over on top of him. I started kissing down his body . . . across his nipples . . . down his flat belly to the mass of dark hair at the base of his erect and leaking penis. I sucked on him for a while. He moaned and grabbed my head. After a couple minutes of that, he lifted my head off his phallus and pushed me down toward his balls. I licked his nearly hairless sac and played with his balls that were rolling around inside. He opened his legs and pushed my head further. I took the cue and began licking his hole. I moved my finger up to his hole and wet it with my saliva, then gently spread his hole with my finger as I continued to work with my tongue.

"I want you in me tonight. Love me. Take me."

He pulled a small bottle of lubricant and a condom out from under his pillow. "Please."

I wanted him, too.

I pulled on the condom and spread a generous amount of the lubricant over my hard dick and around his hole. Then I lined up and started pushing in. He was prepared and there wasn't much resistance, still I moved in slowly afraid I might hurt him. He moaned, but it was a pleasure moan. He wrapped his legs around my butt and started pulling me in faster. He was so tight, soft, and incredibly warm. I felt like I would shoot any moment.

I reached bottom. I leaned down and kissed him. We kept the kiss as I started to pull back slowly. When I thought I was almost all the way out, I reversed and moved back in. We continued that slow rhythm while kissing. It took every ounce of will power to keep from pumping in and out as quickly and hard as I could. I came to the edge and stopped moving to let my nerves settle.

I started moving again. A little faster this time. I felt him tense. His rectum spasmed around my dick, pushing me dangerously close to a climax. I paused, but he moaned and used his legs to pull me back into him. I exploded inside the condom. His dick jerked against my belly, and I felt his hot jism spreading between us.

I stayed inside him until I started to soften. Then I held on to the condom as I pulled out, took the condom off and tied a knot in the end before tossing it toward the waste basket. I went into the bathroom and came back with a warm washcloth to clean up both of us.

We fell asleep in each other's arms. I don't think either one of us moved all night.

The next day it was different between us. Micah had given himself to me, and because of that we were somehow more connected. Our feelings for one another were deeper. And I was no longer afraid of the hurt of penetration. I knew that there would probably be some pain, but that didn't matter anymore. Micah would not be taking me like Kevin; I would be giving myself . . . willingly . . . to my lover . . . the man who had given himself to me.

Yes, there was some discomfort when Micah slid his condom covered dick into me later that night. But that discomfort was quickly replaced by a feeling of fullness and completeness. Unlike the previous night when Micah and I had kissed and kissed and kissed as I moved inside him, that night we looked into each other's eyes. I got totally and hopelessly lost in the beauty and love behind those beautiful brown-gold eyes.


It's been a little more than three years now since Roland Finch tried to kill Dad. Micah and I are still together. We've had our share of arguments. We even broke up for a couple of weeks two years ago. Both of were miserable until we worked through the problem. For the record, I was not trying to get into John Raymond's pants. I may have flirted with him, but I was not . . . I repeat . . . I was not trying to get into his pants. Believe me, Micah has more than enough to keep me satisfied.

Dad still has some days when his ankle and shoulder still pain him. Guess he will probably have that for the rest of his life. He and Trey are going strong. Micah and I have been really fortunate to have such stable, positive role models for relationships like Dad and Trey . . . TJ and Donnie . . . Parker and Karl.

B.B. graduated two years ago. He had several offers for football scholarships. He finally decided on Alabama. He's now their starting right tackle. He's become the local sports hero, but he's still the same old `Big Bruce.'

Grant and I graduated last year. He went to Adams State University that fall. I stayed in Carterville and took a couple of courses at the community college and worked part-time for TJ. I delayed going to college so that Micah and I could go at the same time. At first, my dad and Trey weren't too keen on the idea of my delaying the start of college, but I finally convinced them.

Micah and I are going to be roommates in the dorm at Adams State. We're really excited and a little nervous about starting college. Grant and B.B. have told us that there's nothing to be nervous about. Adams State has a reputation as a place that's accepting of LGBT students. Guess we'll find out . . . starting tomorrow . . . that's when we move into the dorm.

The End

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some of the characters who play parts in this story were previously introduced in "When Love Comes" (last posted in the College section on Sept. 6, 2001), "Love of a Lifetime" (last posted in the College section on May 19, 2003), "Finding Family" (last posted in the College section on June 5, 2008), "Construction Job" (last posted in the College section on July 24, 2008), or "Swamp Rat" (last posted March 15, 2010 in the High School section). While not necessary, readers may find it useful to read the earlier stories posted on this site.  All of the Adams State/Carterville stories listed above as well as my other stories are also posted at


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