Date: Wed, 15 Mar 2000 14:00:05 -0700
From: wolf <wolfauthor@hotmail.com>
Subject: Desolation Chapter 3 Journey Home

There isn't a lot of dialogue in this one. I wanted to dedicate this
chapter to background info. Once again, don't expect them to be created
this quickly. I had time alone tonight, something that hasn't happened in a
while. Enjoy. Email comments, critizims, phone numbers, a good salmon penne
recipe to wolfauthor@hotmail.com.  If you just need to talk, I'm always
here to listen. I like helping people. That's why I write. Thanks for
reading and all.


				Desolation

			  Chapter 3  Journey Home


I kneeled before his bare naked body. This lucious 12 year old god stood
before me wearing only what he was born with. That which showed all which
gender he was a part of stood stilted before me. My mouth watered, my heart
beat faster, I was craving his jewel. He had the most beautiful look on his
face; a mix of anticipation, love, and excitement amongst others. I didn't
hesitate and jumped right in. I held his little penis in my mouth very
carefully and took a moment to savor the taste. Then, I began my work. I
pumped up and down on him as he pushed his groin into my face. He was on
cloud nine. He whimpered with every thrust. It was a magnificant moment. He
began breathing harder. His body tensed. I looked at him and his face had
the most amazing expression on it. He looked like he was about to explode.


I awoke in a cold sweat. My body was shaking. My heart was racing. My mind
was trying to put the pieces together. I looked around trying to analyze my
surroundings. Everything was foggy. I was still half asleep. Then I noticed
the bean bag chair, and the occupant it held. I was set at ease. I realized
where I was, what had happened the day before, and after a quick glance at
the clock, what time it was. 4:27am. The bed was comfortable. My mind raced
about the dream, what it meant, why I had it. I didn't like what I saw, but
then again, I did. I was so confused. Timmy turned on to his side, his
blanket was kicked off of him. He looked so sweet, innocent, not me. I had
to admit, he was good looking. A guy can say that about another guy right?
I mean, its not gay or anything to say another guy looks good. I think.


I fell back asleep within the next half hour or so. I was afraid of the
next dream I waa going to have. Thank God I couldn't remember it. I'm sure
it was something bad though. None of my dreams had been good in years. I
awoke to the smell of bacon and eggs and stuff cooking. Something I'm not
all that familiar with. My morning smells usually consisted of coffee, for
my dad's hangovers, and anything that could be fit in the toaster. My
stomach was growling just from the smell of all the food. If her cooking
was as good as it was the night before, I was in for a treat. I turned over
on the bed and looked at the clock. 6:00am exactly. I normally got up for
school (when I decided to go) at 7:45; 10 minutes before I had to be
there. This was a change for me. I figured Timmy would be asleep still, but
when I looked down, he wasn't in the beanbag chair. I looked around the
room, and he was by his closet, folding the blanket he had, and putting it
away. This was strange, too, for I never cleaned up after myself. He turned
around at the sound of me moving. He looked me in the eyes and smiled.


"Sleep well?"

"Yeah. Your bed is comfortable. Thanks."

"No problem. I'm happy you slept well."


He turned back around and reached to put the blanket on the top shelf in
his closet. He was wearing some navy blue striped pajamas and his top
lifted as his arms raised. Some uncontrolable urge inside of me forced me
to look at his naked back as he did so and I even caught a glimpse of the
beginning of a crack. It turned me on. This was bad because I had already
awoken with the usually morning "tension" and now I was just flat out
horny. I was also pissed because I didn't know what was going on or why. I
hated, yet loved, everything about it.


"Mom's cooking breakfast. Let's go grab some grub."


We both jetted down the stairs, my jeans that I wore to bed tented a
little, but that went away quickly. I noticed, as I passed through the
halls, that the other rooms were the same size as Timmy's. Actually, the
whole house was rather big. I guess looks can be decieving. From the
outside, it looked awfully small, but the surrounding trees covered most of
what you could see and inside of the house expanded more northward. You
couldn't see most of it from the outside. It was also well maintained and
nicely decorated, most likely by his mother.


We arrived at the dining room table ready to eat, but his mom told us to
wash up. (too much like those T.V. moms) After we all ate, Tommy got ready
for school while I followed him around and watched except when he was in
the shower. He had brought his clothes with him in there, so I didn't get
to see him change either. Not that I was interested or anything. He let me
borrow a shirt of his and I wore the same pants and boxers I had the day
before. The shirt was too small as it was. I'd hate to try and get into a
pair of his pants. We watched about a half hour's worth of morning cartoons
and then he had to leave for the bus stop. I wanted to go with so I could
prolong the inevitable, or have a chanec to run, but his parents knew my
intentions and decided that I should stay. I said bye to Timmy and he
whispered "good luck" to me and he was gone. His parents had set themselves
in the family room and were already talking.


I hesitated by the door, but as soon as it closed, Roger called to me. I
hesitated but decided I couldn't run for the door, because Timmy would see
me. I didn't want him to see me running. I slowly walked into the family
room. Timmy's dad sat in the recliner and his mom on the love seat. They
looked at me. This time, it wasn't an inquisitive look. It was stern, and
concerned. I hated being able to read people. I knew they had been planning
this whole conversation, probably since last night. I didn't say anything
and just let them talk.


"Jacob, we want you to know right now that we do care about what has
happened to you, and the fact that you aren't at home right now with a
family that could take care of you bothers us greatly." His dad had a great
way of laying things on the line and sounded like he had practiced this
speech before. "We feel you should be at home with your mom and that an
organization may be able to help you better than we ever could." I saw this
coming. "We'll take you back home today. If you ever want to come over,
just call us. We'll give you our number and we'll pick you up as soon as
possible."


His mom started in next.


"We like the fact that you and Timothy have gotten along so well. He never
really had any real friends. His teachers say he's not really
sociable. We'll go ahead and give CPS a call and see if this thing with
your mom and dad can get straightened out the right way."


They looked at me, as if I was supposed to say something. There was only
one thing running through my head at that moment.


"Why are you doing this?"

"We feel its best for you, and for your mom." his dad said.

"No, not that. I mean, why do you care? No one in my life has ever shown
the slightest hint of compassion towards me. Why do you?"

This was his mom's field. "We are very caring people and we understand what
you are going through. We hate to see things happen to people who are so
full of life and love. You're so young, things like this shouldn't happen
to such young people."

"There's another reason." said his dad, but not to me. This was directed at
his wife.

"Yes, there's more. We're happy you became friends with Timothy. Actually,
delighted. Like I said, he hasn't had many friends. Mainly, though, its
because..."


She was avoiding something. I could see it in her. She was repeating
herself and she started getting nervous and looked like she was going to
cry. Roger stepped in.


"We had another son once. It was 11 years ago. Timothy was only about a
year old when he died of a bad case of pneumonia. He had lung problems
since his birth and he had a low immune system." Samantha started to
sniffle and a couple tears fell down her face. I felt bad for asking.

"I'm sorry I brought this up. I understand."

Samantha tried to console me. "No, really. We've gotten better at talking
about it. I guess you make us see a son we never had. A big brother for
Timothy. Someone to play with, to teach, to grow up with."


She was going overboard. I didn't want to be a big brother. Or did I? I
didn't know. All I knew was that I made this lady cry and now she was
telling me her life story. These people were nice, but overemotional and
kinda weird. I had only been there a day and they were already seeing me as
a son. I guess that's where the root of all this compassion stemmed
from. They had a son who didn't have many friends and felt if he had a
brother, he'd be better off. I didn't see a problem with him the way he
was.


"Well, go get your stuff. We'll take you home." his dad interupted. He
broke another awkward moment.

"Can't we wait so I can say goodbye to Timmy?"

"I told you, whenever you want to come over, just call us. You can see him
whenever you want. We don't want you guys to stop being friends."


I was stuck. I had to go. I didn't know what to expect when I got
there. Maybe my dad had come home, maybe my mom had found a boyfriend by
now and was planning on getting married, or maybe I should just expect the
normal; my mom lying on the floor of the living room, passed-out from
drinking the night before and dad drinking his coffee at the table reading
the paper without any worries at all.


I grabbed my shirt and they grabbed the keys to the car. I was nervous as
hell and I didn't want to go. It was like a drive to the dentist's
office. We didn't speak except for when I was giving directions to my
house. The drive took a good half hour taking a straight path. That's how I
knew I had walked a long ways. It was hard giving directions at first. I
had no clue where we were when we started. I soon found out that I had come
down the main highway heading east to New Mexico. We entered the suburbs
and were soon in my city. After a couple lefts and rights, stops and gos,
and one u-turn, we were at my house. My house was small. It only consisted
of two bedrooms, a small family room, and a kitchen. It could have been
considered an apartment if it were joined with others. The outside was
beat-up and the paint on it was peeling. The lawn was never taken care
of. Half was rocks, and the other half was dead grass. We parked in the
driveway. The only car we had, my dad took off with. We approached the
front door and I stopped. Roger and Samantha practically had to push me
on. I turned the knob and it was locked. I breathed a sigh of relief. They
asked if there was another way in. I knodded and reached above the door,
removing our hidden key. We were soon in the walkway. My house was, as
usual, a mess. Dusty, dirty, unpresentable to people. Home sweet home. I
called out to my mom. There was no answer. I called again. There was no
answer.


We walked into the back rooms, the kitchen, even the backyard. No one was
around. My mom didn't have a job, so she couldn't have been there. She had
no car, so she couldn't have gone far. We decided to wait. I tried to clean
what little I could and Samantha told me I didn't have to. We sat and
talked and I told them about my life some more. Time just crept by. No one
came home. I decided that there was no need to keep Roger and Samantha
waiting. I told them so, and they said they wanted to stay. Samantha kept
asking Roger if they should call the police, but he explained to her that
there was no need. I finally convinced them they should be home for Timmy's
return from school. They said if no one came home by 8, I was to call them
and they'd come get me. They also said if anyone DID come home, to call
them and inform them of the situation. They hated to leave me there alone,
but I told them I'd be ok and I'd call if there were ANY problems. They
explained how they'd call CPS as soon as they got home and they might just
return with an agent that night if they had to.


No one came home. I wasn't expecting anyone to. I was hoping no one
would. From the time Roger and Samantha left, to 8 o'clock, I thought about
a lot of stuff. I decided, in the end, that a foster home would be better
for me than this place, and that having a friend like Timmy would help a
lot in my life. I grabbed a bite to eat at about 7. I looked around and
found my mom's suitcase was gone, along with her clothes and all her stuff.
I called Timmy's and told them no one had shown. I didn't want to tell them
about what I had found. I don't know why either, I just didn't want to
accept that my mom had walked out like that. I was hoping she just went to
go find me and set out on some time of weird trip to do so. They arrived at
about 7:30 and we left right away. I was waiting outside for them, house
locked up. They didn't ask questions and just let me in the car and took
off. They told me how they had called CPS and an agent was going to be over
later that night. When I had called and told them how no one was home, they
called the agent and explained. The agent told them that she'd wait until
morning if they'd keep me for the night.


I hated the whole situation. I never asked for any of it and I was getting
truely frustrated. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. I wanted to jump for
joy from the relief from my parent's torture, but I couldn't. Before they
arrived, I grabbed everything I could and packed it into my backpack. I
sat, emotionless, in the car. Timmy sat next to me. He tried to cheer me
up, and it worked a little. I smiled and he laughed. He was a great guy. As
soon as we got home, I gave my house a call. No one answered. I called an
hour later, no one answered. Since the next day was Saturday, Timmy didn't
have to be to school and we stayed up pretty late. I called home at
midnight and no one answered. It was time for bed and we went through the
same routine as before. I got to brush my teeth finally, and I took a
shower and put on clean clothes that were my own. Timmy told me to keep his
shirt as a momento. I didn't think I would want to remember what I was
going through, but it did remind me of him so I was happy to keep it.


After all the getting ready, we sat in his room and talked. He asked me
tons of questions about what happened and where I thought my mom was and
what was going to happen and everything he missed while he was in
school. He talked a lot. I was happy to listen. He had that boyish cheer
about him that just made me smile. He sat in his pajamas on his bed, myself
wearing a shirt and jeans in the chair by his desk. He had a computer that
was turned off and a stereo that was turned on. We listened to the local
rock station and he commented on every song that came on. I think he was
trying to impress me. I noticed a guitar case in the corner of his room and
asked if he played. He said he messed around with it but wasn't that
great. He asked if I did and I told him I used my dad's accoustic to
practice when he wasn't home a couple times. It was just before he was
going to ask if I wanted to play when his dad came in and told us lights
out.


We went through the whole bed/bean bag bit again, but this time, I won. It
took some convincing, but he finally caved and slept in his own
bed. However, he did go through a ton of trouble setting up a nice
make-shift bed on the floor for me and made sure I was comfortable (every 5
seconds). We laughed and joked and were just about to wrestle when his dad
entered again. This time, he didn't have to say anything. We were quiet and
said g'night as soon as he opened the door. He replied and closed the
door. Before we finally decided to sleep, Timmy asked me once more if I was
comfortable. I was but I didn't like sleeping in my clothes.


"Yeah, I guess."

"You guess?! Come on dude, I'll trade again tonight."

"I thought we went through this! You sleep on your own bed."

"But if you're not comfortable-"

"Its not that. I don't like sleeping in my clothes. I sleep in my boxers."


I thought he'd just say "oh. that's it. sorry dude" or "I've got some
pajamas you can wear" or something like that, but he didn't. He hesitated a
little.

"Then go for it."


I didn't think my heart could take that many shocks in that many days. I
wasn't expecting that. I just told him so that he would shut up about the
bed thing. I thought for a second and figured that I had blankets and I'd
be wearing my boxers, so there was nothing to worry about. I stripped down
and threw my clothes next to me. Then I got back in bed and covered myself
strategically so I wasn't to kick them off later that night. I think he was
straining to watch me the whole time. I couldn't tell though because it was
too dark. I felt kind of sexy while I did it and I got a little aroused. I
was more nervous though. I barely knew the kid and here I was stripping in
the dark in front of him. I fell asleep very easily, but not as easily as
he did. Before I crashed, I could hear him breathing heavily and almost
snoring. It was cute. Then, I was out like a light.


What'd ya think? Was it good? Bad? ok? Email me. Just don't tell me that my
grammar sucks. My Office 97 cd is screwing up. The setup file's corrupt
(scratched cd) so I have no spell check or tools to tell me what I did
wrong. I hate reading people's emails saying "You spelled this wrong" or
"this should have had 'and' in it. I know what I wrote, and I wrote it
quickly. Everything comes off the top of my head and I don't have a preset
plan to where the story's going. It just does. The dream was a foundation
(from which I'm straying at the moment) Thanks again.
wolfauthor@hotmail.com