Date: Sat, 14 Aug 2010 22:49:12 +0000 (GMT)
From: Jonas Henley <jonas_henley@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Kids of Indian Spring, Ch. 26b

Kids of Indian Spring
By Jonas Henley

Chapter 26b
Tail of Two Cities
The Afternoon:   The Golden Thread


`It was the epoch of belief,
it was the epoch of incredulity'


Thursday, 22 June 1995
1:45 pm
The unincorporated area of Indian Spring


"Kelley!!"

"Dad?"  Kelley came down the stairs, wondering what his dad was doing home
so early.

"Hi, son," Hal looked heavy hearted as he walked to his office with his son
in tow.

"Are you OK, Dad?"

"Oh, I've been better. To be honest, I'm finding myself in the midst of
several needs and decisions running contrary to each other, and you
. . . . . you're in the middle of all of them."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. What makes it worse is your mother was first abhorred by the
idea of what was going to happen this weekend, but now that she finds
you've . . . . uh . . . . switched sides, so to speak, she seems to be just
fine with it. Says you'll be OK."

"I will be OK, dad."

"Will you? Will you, Kelley? I'm so happy to hear that. Would you mind so
terribly as to just raise yourself for the next 6 years since you're `OK'
and doing such a great job of it!!"

"Dad . . . ."

"And by all means, raise your brothers, as well. Don't worry about
including us on any decisions that you feel you need to make!"

Kelley hadn't had his father this angry with him in quite a while.

"What did I do?"  He asked nervously.

"Ohh, Kelley," Hal sighed and sat down in his chair.  "Well, let's start
with the things that aren't your fault."

"There's more than one thing I did wrong?"

Hal sighed, maybe he was being too hard on Kelley, after all he had always
been such a good boy, and still was. But he was taking on too much and
forgetting that he had parents, and that needed to be corrected. But did he
really need to know the other stuff? Hal regarded his son carefully as the
boy sat on the sofa opposite his desk.

Yes. He was out there, like it or not, in the thick of things. And he was
mature for his age. He deserved to know, at least, that something was going
on. But he didn't need the details.

"Well, first of all, I can't say enough how proud I am of you for reaching
out a hand to Malcolm, whatever your reason was for doing that."

"Was that a bad thing? I mean, I would have anyway, once I opened my
eyes. It was Ethan that made me finally look at him right. Dad, I think he
was about to do something bad. To himself. I cant explain it, but he was
really . . . . .dark . . . inside."

Hal nodded, but he was more troubled inside than he let show. He and Silvie
had kept their distance from Malcolm for a reason. It was ironic that they
did it to avoid drawing attention to the kid, but what happened is that
they were so far removed that they failed to notice the boy was receiving
no attention at all.

"By dark . . . . you mean, um . . . . . "

Kelley shrugged. He was still too young to fully interpret most of what he
felt and saw in others.  "No life . . . I guess. Like walking maybe into a
cave that just got darker and darker, except at some point there just
suddenly wasn't anything there, including Malcolm. Sorry dad, I can't
really explain it."

Hal put his hands to his temples and rubbed them. How did it get this far?
He knew exactly what Kelley didn't just quite get. He was surprised,
however, that it hadn't crossed Kelley's mind. But the boy was so confident
and so imbued with stability that Hal could see where it wouldn't occur to
Kelley, at least not yet.

"It's OK, Kelley. He's safe now, right? You did the right thing. I want you
to keep encouraging him to come over. And we don't mind if you too boys
mess around any, but try first and connect with him outside of sex."

"Yes, sir."  This was more embarrassing to discuss casually than either of
them had realized it was going to be.

"So is that one of the things that's caused trouble?"  Kelley eventually
asked after the awkward silence, absently picking at some fuzz on the sofa.

Hal hesitated again, but eventually told his son the truth. He smiled as he
decided to do so. He couldn't lie to the boy after all.  "Yes, it has
caused an immense amount of trouble, and at a delicate time in the process
of my . . . our . . . negotiations with the Mackey clan on the future of
Indian Spring. Sometimes I wonder if it really is worth the fight, or if
I'm just fighting my dad's and granddad's battles. Sometimes I really do
want to just let it go."

"Let it go . . . . ?"  Kelley repeated, "You mean Indian Spring? But it's
our home!"

"Son, between your mom and me, if we weren't so attached to Indian Spring,
we could easily live somewhere else and have a lot more money, a lot more
things for you kids. You wouldn't have to work that job for your spending
money."

Kelley was confused, on the one hand, if they had done that years ago, he
would have never had sex with a boy, he would never had needed to do it to
get a job. He would have had an allowance to date girls. And he wouldn't
have these conflicting feelings on what he had or hadn't become because of
the sex. Life would have been simpler, life would have been what he had
always wanted. Life would have been better.

But on the other hand. He wouldn't have Nate, they would drift apart. He
wouldn't have the Cormacks, and in some ways that was worse. He wouldn't
have the woods to explore, or the creek to swim in. The roads to bike with
few cars to worry about. The sense of community, the sense of belonging,
the sense of history. He wouldn't have been grounded, stable, solid. What
kind of person would he have become if he had lost all of that?

And the negatives weren't just with what he would have lost, but with what
he would not have gained. He believed his parents -- no, more than that, he
saw into their souls that they were right when they said money and
possessions could corrupt a person. He wouldn't have had to work for that
allowance, and what would have that done to him? Or Ethan?

And speaking of Ethan, what if they moved to an area where Ethan became an
object of scorn or ridicule? Kelley could protect him, but not as much as
Indian Spring, as a whole, protected him, gave him the confidence to just
be Ethan, so he could face the world as strong as their parents.

"No, dad, I'm sorry it's been so hard for you, and I'm sorry if I made it
harder, but you did the right thing fighting for our home. It was the right
thing for me, and for Ethan, and for Ashton. And you and mom have been
happy here, right?"

It was such a mature and insightful response that Hal almost felt ashamed
for expressing what he felt. Almost. But it was his honest feeling on the
matter, and Kelley understood it. So he let it go.

"I know, son. I don't regret it, and truth be told, our family isn't the
only reason we've stayed. It's just . . . . . well, I guess I need a
reminder every now and then."

"So what got worse?"

"Well . . . . you'll just have to trust me to handle that myself, Kelley;
but you should understand . . . . . well, at least, you should
know. . . . . that you may experience some unusual feelings and reactions
out there, especially from the Mackeys. You woke up more than just
Malcolm. But moving on, I've been trying to come up with a way to get you
out of this Blue Party."

"It's a White Party, dad; you can say it. I won't break. And, I found out
about how long they've been going on from Tanner Mackey. I couldn't get
Tolley or Seth to really talk to me last week. Even Sean's been avoiding
me. Anyway, Tanner asked me why I wanted to know, and I just said I had
heard something about them. I meant Cal can't actually even tell anybody I
was there, right? So, it's not like anybody around here will know. I just
don't think I should be made the exception. Not right now."

Hal sighed. He unfortunately understood. It was one of the reasons he was
mad. It just made him feel somewhere between impotent and bad dad. But yet,
he had lived the other side of this as a kid, and the boys inside of whom
he had had fun, they grew up fine. Did he have a right to expect different
for Kelley?

"Well, no, Kelley, no one else around here should find out; those are the
rules. Depends on Cal following them, of course. There's pretty bad
consequences if he doesn't. Of course, the rules among the Mackey are that
you just don't comment on what happened. Who went and what color underwear
they were wearing can be discussed among anybody that already knows. Slight
differences, but this will be just Cal's boy scout troop. I checked, and no
one from either your school, except Cal, or from Indian Spring are
going. And the only Mackeys in that troop are Bennett Mackey, who is
Garrett's grandson, and Chris Corbin, and they both go to the Coolspring
schools."

"I don't know Chris that well."

"Well, they're more close to the Mackeys than to the Corbins that you
know. Good people; opposed to a lot of the traditions on that side. They,
like Bennett's family now, are among the Outer Mackey group."

"The tenth Kinset," Kelley muttered to himself.

"What was that?"

"Oh, I was just saying, that's the Tenth Kinset, right? The other Corbins,
the, uh, not-so-nice Corbins down through the woods, are in the Eighth
Kinset."

"So you know the Kinsets?"

"I know the Tenth is the Outer Mackeys and the Eighth and Ninth Kinsets are
the Inner Mackeys. Except there's no Mackeys in the Ninth Kinset."  Kelley
answered.

"That's right. It's an empty Kinset."

He lied.

Kelley tried not show his sharp surprise, but he couldn't help it.

His dad just straight-up lied to him.

Maybe his dad was thinking he would be too distracted to notice, given the
weight of all the issues at hand; but in actuality, given the high
embarrassment factor of some of the topics at hand and the amount of other
behind-the-scenes trouble that his dad wouldn't go into, Kelley's
protective senses were on even higher alert. His dad lied, plain and
simple.

Well, maybe not plain.

Hal noticed Kelley's sharp look up and somewhat nervously explained, "Well,
the Jacobs on the West side of Spring Drive had the option of going into
the Ninth Kinset, but they joined the Eighth Kinset for family
reasons. That's where the Jacobs on the East side of Spring Dr. were."

Another lie. He wasn't sure what, but something about it was a lie. And
Kelley was fairly certain that the Crazy Indian was supposed to be the
dividing line, not Spring Drive, in which case BOTH sets of Jacobs would be
in the Ninth Kinset. Kelley wasn't sure what his dad was covering up, or
why, but he let it go. There were only so many uncertainties he could keep
track of at one time, and his own life was just too full of them right now
to search for the golden thread of the Mackeys' troubles.

"I like Bennett, he's cool."  Kelley said, mainly to distract his father
from noticing that Kelley noticed the cover-up.  "I don't see him much
since they moved."

"Well, he won't be there at the party, so he won't know, either; so don't
worry about that. Anyway, he's in Abner's lineage, and that line is usually
considered to be the most middle of the road and stable of all the
Mackey. They are my swing vote, usually. In this fight, they're my bulwark.
Ironically, the ones I usually have in my pocket, the good half of
Cleveland's line, are on the fence for some reason."

"Maybe it has something to do with most of the List this year being from
their side. You're talkin' about Seth and Tolley and them, right?"

"Yes, Jebediah, who is Sean's dad; Amos, Theodore's dad; Esther, Dean's
mom; Colton's two sons, though they are both minimally involved as Outer
Mackeys; Hollis, Seth's dad, Ruth -- I believe you know her son Sheldon
fairly well, they are all usually the Mackeys that I can count on most. And
Solomon, who . . . . uh . . . . doesn't have any children."

"It's OK dad. I know Mr. Sol is gay."

"He's a good man; went through a lot of torment as a kid. Anyway, you are
right about the list. This year it is disproportionately stacked with kids
from those families: Sean, Theodore, Dean, Seth, and even David, whose Dad
is usually firmly against me no matter what. What's more, there isn't much
representation from those families on either the younger or older Mackey
Community councils. Jason and Hayden are the only . . . . . friendlies, I
guess would be the word . . . . on the younger Council. And Jason doesn't
have a voting slot. So maybe that has something to do with their fickleness
at this moment."

"So nothing to do with me, at least."

His dad looked away and didn't answer. But Kelley couldn't discern any
deception. Which could only mean that his dad didn't know what, or how, or
why, but something was in there involving Kelley.

"It's just a bad time for you to have all of a sudden started deciding to
make all these decisions on your own, without even talking with us in the
least."

"Sorry, dad. But . . . . . it's not really something I could ever see
myself wanting to talk to you about before I did it."

"Fair enough, I guess. I certainly didn't give my dad fair warning."

Ugh. TMI, Kelley thought, but tried not to look disgusted.

"Why did you decide to have sex in your . . . . . . . back there, Kelley?
Please, at least tell me it was only innocent curiosity."

But Kelley didn't have an answer. It definitely wasn't curiosity. He was
never in the least curious what it would be like or even feel like. He had
had no interest in knowing. And truth be told, regardless of the times when
there was some undeniable sexual pleasure that could be reached in the
process, he still had absolutely no real interest in knowing.

He wasn't totally sure he could call it innocent, either.

So he didn't really and truly know why it started. True, he knew that he
would have to do it to get the job that he needed. But why Casey Harris?
Was he just convenient? He didn't really think that was it. But he didn't
know. And why Cole Haley? What was that even about? Why did he let that boy
inside him? All he owed Cole was some blow jobs, not access to his
ass. Surprisingly, it had actually felt good. He shivered as he remembered
it, wondering how he could even recall such a thing. It was a boy! [another
shiver]

In short, it was confusing to Kelley. He didn't know. All he really and
truly did know was that he wasn't even sexually interested in guys, and he
felt somewhat used and ashamed most of the time when it happened, with one
exception with Casey and one or two of three times that one night with
Cole. He had no answers for those.

"I don't know why, exactly, dad. Just . . . . happened."

"You weren't taken advantage of that first time? Forced to do it?"

Kelley laughed. He had been thinking of Casey trying to `force' Kelley to
do anything.

"No dad; that kid couldn't really force me to do anything."

"And what kid was it?"

Here Kelley blanched a bit. Was he serious?

"Why . . . . um . . . .why do you have to know?"

"We agreed last night that you would do this by Mackey rules. It's what you
said you wanted more than anything. Of course, all day I've been cursing
myself for agreeing to that, wondering at what point I just freaking lost
my mind. But even your mother says it is important that I honor my
agreements with you, especially given . . . . . um . . . . . "

"Your past?"  Gross, Kelley thought even as he said it, that and: please
don't go into any details, please don't go into any details . . . . . .

It was Hal's turn to look a bit sheepish.  "Yes, my past, but also my
current negotiations. To suddenly start changing my agreements, well
. . . . . I might as well truly give it all up then."

"Dad, you did right. I want to do things right by this community. I can't
change anything, either, if I don't do things the `right' way first. So,
I'm going to do it right. Even if nobody else ever finds out, which I so
hope, but at least I'll be doing it the right way and can stand my ground
when maybe I have a chance to change things."

Hal grimaced. Kelley was just like he was when he was young, and probably
just like his own dad, Calvin, when he was young as well -- uh, except for
the whole `bottom' aspect. But more in terms of shouldering too much
responsibility for the community. But was that a fair weight or not? Was it
a good, or even just, thing or not? Hal had no answers at the moment. So he
had to trust his son the same way he was asking his son to trust him.

"I know. I know you will. It's what . . . . worries me . . . .the most, I
guess. Knowing that you will do it all, just as any other kid in the
community is expected to. And one day we will balance out these
traditions. But for now, though I am trusting you, I insist you tell me who
was your first."

Kelley gulped. There was no way out of it.

"Yes, sir. It was . . . . um . . . . . Casey Harris."

Hal was stunned. Shocked. He felt an ulcer coming on. Again he put his head
in his hands and rubbed his temples.  "Kelley was this before or after I
told you I didn't want you fooling around in any way with either George
Harris' son or with Bart Corbin's kids?"

"After. Definitely after. But I haven't done anything with Eli Corbin. Or
his sister Margie. Or with Casey's sister Andrea."  Kelley added the last
part uncertainly. Since his father still wasn't responding, but just kept
rubbing his head, Kelley felt as though he should fill the silence.  "I
think Andrea likes Eric anyway. I know he does, like her I mean, and when
we were at the Community Integrity meeting last week-"

"Just . . . . .stop . . . . . for a moment, Kelley. Let me think."

It was a while before his dad looked back up and asked Kelley how many
times they had done things.

"Um, three times . . . .if you mean . . . ."

"Yes, that's what I mean. And the last time?"

"Monday Night."

"Monday Night?"  Hal sat back thinking.  "When Monday night?"

"Um . . . . I . . . . uh. . . . . MAY have . . . . .um . . . . .snuck out."

Kelley was twisting his hands while he tried to get this admission out. If
his father was going to trust him with this, he did need to be somewhat
honest. Fortunately Hal recognized that honesty -- after counting to ten
silently and slowly -- and said:

"Thank you for being honest and telling me that, Kelley. If you do that
again, then you can forget about me trusting you to work by yourself out in
Coolspring, regardless of how much I might trust Mr. Salvador. Do you
understand me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why did you sneak out?"

"Well . . . . It was close to that five day limit, you know, in the Mackey
rules, and at the time I still wasn't sure whether or not I wanted to
follow Mackey or Indian Spring rules or not. I knew that Casey would never
tell, even if I just refused to do anything with him at all. And at any
rate, he's about to go off to school in Bingham, so it wouldn't even matter
soon. But I was still not sure, so I decided that even if he didn't know
why, then I would at least obey the rules while I was trying to figure
everything out."

"So Casey still doesn't know?"

"Sort of. I didn't think I would tell him exactly, since he's about to go
off to school and all."

"Then why did you tell me? Why didn't you just let it all go away without
anyone noticing?"

"The White Party," Kelley answered simply.  "I just couldn't get around
doing it dishonestly."

His son the Hero. To everyone but himself. Hal wondered if he and Silvie
had just raised their boys too well, if they pursued Honesty to this point
of self-sacrifice. The more immediate question was should he bail his son
out? As a father he very much knew he should. But would this betray
Kelley's self-image of what was right and just. But should that even be the
image he should have?

Oh, what to do, what to do.

In the end Hal took a deep breath. Silvie was right. This wouldn't kill
him, meaning Kelley. He was stronger than that. It might even give him a
perspective on how to change himself to avoid pointless sacrifice and an
insight on how to change the socially destructive natures of
others. Maybe. In the end, Hal was going to respect his son's decision --
this time, at least.

"OK. I get it. Well, that's locked in. You do understand that you are going
to the . . . . . White Party, don't you? There will be no 11th hour
delivery."

Kelley felt an intense internal shudder forming, but he buried it deep.
"Yes, sir, I understand."

"Do you really understand what it involves?"

"Yes, sir. Every boy there in white will get to . . . . . to
. . . . . stick their . . . . dicks . . . inside my butt. And do what they
want until they shoot, and then get to write their names on my back. Only
Cal will know who I am, dad. I can live through it fine enough. I wish I
could turn down Cal, though."

"Well, as host, he gets to claim the first boy. So if you have any
animosity there, then I hope you understand that it will probably be you he
claims. Also," his dad took another deep breath. He couldn't believe that
he was going through all of this so calmly with Kelley, much less allowing
the boy to go through with it.  "Also, some of these parties have the
custom that the first boy who claims you at the party gets to keep your
briefs, and you may be expected to write something on them, like thanking
the boy, and then sign your name. So be prepared for that to happen. I will
be sending you there with two extra sets of briefs in case that happens."

"Yes, sir," answered a somewhat pale Kelley. This White Party really and
truly was sounding worse every moment he thought about it or heard
something new about it. Just the thought of Cal Brewer getting to fuck him
made him feel sick. Having to write a thank you note on his own briefs was
just too much.

But what was done was done. Even his dad said there was no way out of it,
now. Kelley gulped. What the hell had he done?

"Then I guess there's not much more to discuss about the White Party," his
dad said, his tone suggesting that he was reluctant to fold away the issue
and move on, but he needed to realize that it was a done deal and learn to
live with that -- as if he could. Maybe he could. At any rate, at least the
next weekend his kids would be safe, when he and Sylvie would be gone for
two nights. And he told Kelley so.

"At least next weekend you and Ethan won't have anything to worry about. We
will still need to go over to Illinois for two nights, so I'm sending the
three of you to stay with the Cormacks."

"But they're all going to the beach in New Jersey."

"And you will go with them."

"Can we afford that?"

"Kelley, please try to be the kid for once and let your mother and me worry
about those kinds of things. Besides when Michael and Elizabeth found out
where you were staying this weekend-"

"THEY KNOW??"

"Calm down. Only that you are staying there and that we needed another
place next week. They don't know what is happening at the Brewer's. They
only know that none of their kids like or trust Cal, for some
reason. Which, I wish I knew about last week."

"I can handle myself with Cal, dad. As long as Ethan's still going in
White."

"He is. He better be, at least. For now."  His dad said. He was distantly
aware in his deeper psyche that Ethan was unlikely to remain a `White
Briefs boy' for long into his life, but he wasn't ready for that
change. Despite the fact that Ethan was developing faster than Kelley had,
he was still only 10 ½ and as hairless as he was born. Not that having
hair should mean anything.

"Can the Cormacks afford it?"  Kelley asked, still worried about the cost.

Hal sighed.  "Honestly, Kelley, you have GOT to stop being an adult. I
don't know how many other parents have to get onto their children for being
too mature. As for the Cormacks, has affordability ever in their lives
stopped them from finding a way? And you know how they are. If you do not
go excited and thankful without worrying about the cost at all, then they
will be offended and hurt. That's just they way it is with them. You're
family to them, so I expect you to go happy."

"I will, dad. It does sound like a lot of fun."

"It will be. And no stress. You can have a totally non-sexual weekend, the
way it should be for a 12 year old. Your mom and I are no prudes, but there
is just too much sex, too early, in this community. I should know."

"But it didn't turn you into anyone bad. Or most others here."

"No,son," he sighed again, "You're right. But while we are back on the
subject. Casey doesn't know anything about the Mackey rules?"

"Yes, sir, he does. He thinks they're stupid. He didn't want anything to do
with them. But I'm not sure he really put it together with why I was with
him on Monday and Thursday."

Hal just nodded. He wasn't sure where that would fit in with Kelley
following the rules. "And does his mom or dad know about you two?"

"No, sir, not at all."

"Well, I would rather George Harris never know, if that is at all
possible. But we will talk with Casey about all of that. In fact, you'll
call him right now, and we will all discuss it this afternoon."

"Dad, I don't think that's-"

"I didn't ask for an opinion, Kelley. I said for you to go call him and ask
him to come over. Now."

"Yes, sir."  The answer was meek and terrified. Kelley was OK with doing
everything official, as long as nobody actually found out. Cal was the only
loose thread in all that. And now Casey was going to be officially a part
of something he didn't want to be a part of. How would he react? Kelley
just wasn't sure this was going to end well -- or that things would go very
well for his end. His rear end to be specific. But there was no arguing
with the tone in his dad's voice. And reluctantly or not, he knew it was
inevitable that he would get up and make the call, so he rose somewhat
fearfully and went to the phone and called Casey, asking the boy to come
over fairly soon, if he could.

"Before we move away from plans for this weekend and next week, I want to
talk a little bit more about Malcolm."

"He came over this morning, Dad. He seems a little bit sadder, and like he
wasn't really looking forward to next week."

"I should say he isn't," Hal said heavily, as if that was the
understatement of the week.  "Kelley, Malcolm is going to have a very
difficult week next week. One week from today is the day that his mother
died in that car crash so many years ago."

"Well, then I shouldn't go away that weekend, Dad, he needs somebody to-"

"Kelley . . . ."

"No, Dad, you don't understand how dark-"

Kelley . . . . ."

"Dad, I can stay with Tolley, or Nathan, or even Blaine. I can call-"

"KELLEY!"

Kelley was jarred into silence, once again watching his dad rub his
temples.  "Oh, will you please just let me be the parent today? I know that
you're, usually, a really good kid, and exceptionally low maintenance, but
please, just . . . . not . . . . today."

Something about the way his dad put the stress on the word `usually' told
Kelley that there was still something bad about to come down the line. He
only very rarely got into trouble for anything, but something told him that
wasn't going to be the case today. He very wisely realized that a meek
`yes, sir' was all he should say at this point.

"Every year he goes over to his aunt's during that time so he wont be alone
with . . . . well . . . unfortunately enough to say it -- so he wont be
alone with his dad. I'm afraid his drinking and withdrawal gets worse this
time of the year. So His dad's sister picks him up a couple days before and
keeps him about five days. All the same, every year, just to be sure,
Jebediah Mackey sends one of his three boys around, each boy a different
day, on the day before, the day of, and the day after, just to be sure
Malcolm is not there, as well as to make sure Michael McEwen is still alive
and has not drunk himself into a coma."

"Can't somebody make Mr. McEwen sober up?"

"You cannot change an alcoholic, Kelley. They have to change
themselves. But every year Jeb himself goes up to the house two days after
the day of and makes sure the man is coming down off the binge, or at least
not sinking further into it, just so Malcolm can have something of a home
to return to, and maybe use July as a recovery period. It seems a vicious
cycle without end, though."

"How come nobody took Malcolm away, dad? That's a horrible way to live."

"It's complicated . . . . Kelley."  Suddenly his dad looked weary, tired.

"He could've stayed with us, I could even-"

"I told you it was complicated, Kelley." It was said with unmistakable
finality. No matter how tired the man seemed at that point, and despite the
traces of guilt around his aura, the subject was closed, and Kelley knew
better than to push it.

"Yes, sir."

"Suffice it to say, since . . . . the car crash, Michael hasn't stopped
loving Malcolm; I just wonder though, if he doesn't remind him too much of
Natalie. Every time he sees Malcolm, maybe he senses her loss. I don't
know."

"Dad, I know she isn't dead."

His dad looked up sharply at this statement, and Kelley instantly saw
it. There were sharks in those waters. But instead of retreating, he
thought he should hastily explain.

"I mean, I know she didn't die in a car crash. She just left them. She
abandoned them."

Oh, bad move, Kelley, thought. There weren't just sharks in those waters;
there were really angry sharks. There was still some guilt guilding the
edges, but his dad's eyes narrowed in and focused on him, like a hungry fox
would on a mouse. No, make that a very angry fox. And a mouse that was
about to pee his pants. Obviously a mouse that was wearing pants.

Kelley had a sudden vision of something he never thought of before. His dad
was a very successful lawyer, even though many of his cases were
pro-bono. But Kelley had always imagined him across the table at
negotiations like he was across the table at dinner. Nice, pleasant and
accommodating. Now he was thinking he could have been wrong about that
misconception.

"Who told you that?"

Something was wrong here. His dad was hiding something. Kelley could see
it, but he went with the truth. That was supposed to set you free, right?

"I asked Malcolm."

"You . . . . . what?"

Oh shit, that was the wrong answer. His dad was even angrier. The only
problem was that he had already stepped into it. He had to answer now,
except that for once Kelley was so nervous that he was surprised he got it
all out.

"I told M-malcolm that I, uh, knew h-he was, um, lying ab-about the, uh,
car accident, and he t-told me the tr- . . . the truth."

There was a pause. A deadly pause. Kelley had never seen fury in his dad
like he was seeing now.

"You WHAT!!!???"  Halford Tucker yelled out, slamming his hand down on the
desk.

He had never yelled at Kelley before. The boy was so startled and
frightened that he would have peed himself, except even his pee was too
scared to come out.

"After I SPECIFICALLY told you NOT to ask that boy about his mother?"

He was still yelling, and Kelley could barely stammer out an answer. He
wanted to say that he had seen dark things still stirring in Malcolm, that
he saw sadness creeping back in, that he was just trying to get to know
Malcolm better to be able to help him, but all that came out was a weak,

"I . . . . care about him . . . ."

"You CARE about him? You CARE about him? You care about him so much that
you reject the answer he gave you as not good enough and drag out and
expose the most painful memory and truth in his life?? And this week, of
all weeks??!!!"

"I'm sorry, dad . . ."

"You're SORRY?? You're SORRY???"

His dad was livid, but he suddenly caught himself, putting his hand up to
his forehead like he had finally blown a blood vessel. He had stopped
yelling, though Kelley could not read much there, except that the anger had
suddenly shifted away from him -- well, at least the furious part of the
anger. There was still guilt and remorse and something being kept hidden.

"No, I'm sorry."  His dad said quietly, and again that great and heavy
tiredness came through his voice.  "I should not have yelled at you like
that just now. I don't think I've ever yelled at you anything close to
that."

Hal looked up and saw that Kelley was shaking his head, almost violently as
though he were in a bit of shock with only enough presence of mind to agree
that his dad had most definitely never yelled at him like that.

"Kelley, are you all right?"

Again the almost violent, rapid shaking of his head to answer no, he was
definitely not all right.

"Do you . . . . need . . . . . . to get something to drink?"

"I need to go to the bathroom!"  Kelley squeaked out, almost pitifully.

Hal just nodded and gestured to the door with his hand. It was almost 15
minutes before Kelley came back in. He wasn't as pale, though he still
looked a bit nervous toward his dad.

"Kelley, I owe you a great apology for the way I behaved just now
. . . . ."

"No, it's OK, Dad," came a still meek reply.  "You did tell me not to; I
shouldn't have asked Malcolm."

"No, you should not have asked him. But it's also not OK that I behaved
that way. I do not have the right or justification to yell at you like
that. I am ashamed of myself for doing it."

"No, Dad . . . . ."

"Hear me out. It's not a justification, but I have been under tremendous
stress these past few weeks with an ongoing case at the State level, and
there's the inability to get a consensus of support from among the Mackeys
to fight Elijah Mackey's latest venture, plus with just what your mother
and I have to do to fight it, and now with your . . . surprises . . . . I
obviously just . . . lost it. And we still have one more grave matter to
discuss, something about which I am most unhappy with you, but . . . . . no
more yelling. Please, forgive me."

"Yes, sir."

"I had absolutely no right to get mad at you like that, especially since
you are the only one of all of us that has not failed Malcolm."

"Actually Dad, I think that would be Ethan."

Hal actually smiled.  "That puppy dog would curl up in anybody's lap and
love them. But, understand this, unless that boy, meaning Malcolm, brings
it up on his own, do NOT ask him about or even refer to his mother ever
again. You have no idea the pain he has gone through."

"Yes, sir. I won't. I promise."

But yet again, Kelley saw that his dad was hiding something, something
. . . . . . shamed. And there was guilt on top of that laced through his
admonition. For the first time ever, Kelley wondered briefly -- well maybe
not too briefly -- if his dad had had an affair with Natalie McEwen? What
if he and Malcolm were really brothers?? That would certainly qualify as
`complicated', to use his Dad's word.

Nahh. Malcolm looked too much like Michael McEwen. A much younger, slimmer,
less wasted, and better-looking Michael McEwen, but definitely no son of
Halford Tucker. But it would explain a few things. She did use to come over
here when he was real young to see his dad, right? And it would explain why
he helped Michael McEwen with his house a couple times. Guilty conscience?

Did his dad have something to do with her leaving? Or worse, did his mom?
Kelley couldn't really see his dad having an affair, or his mom putting a
contract out on someone or making some sort of scene, but his dad
definitely looked guilty over something to do with her leaving. And where
the hell was she? For the first time Kelley wondered if things might even
get worse if she were to suddenly come back.

But all these questions would have to wait somewhere in the back of his
mind, because his dad was moving on to the next unpleasant topic.

 "OK," his dad said when Kelley had nervously sat back down.  "There is
another matter that I want to discuss, and as I said, I am very unhappy
about it. In fact, I am very unhappy with you, Kelley."

"W-what else did I do?"

He wracked his brain thinking. Well actually there quite a few things, but
he wondered how his dad could know about them. There were the deals he made
to get the job in Coolspring, getting caught by the police for letting Nate
publicly feel him up, starting his friendship up with Malcolm via a blow
job, facilitating the infamous basketball game so that Cole could win,
keeping his little brother's oral forays into sex a secret . . . . . In
fact, he was realizing that there were so many things in such a short time
that he was starting to feel nauseous and sick from the guilt.

"Are you all right, Kelley?"

"Yes sir, just worried about Casey coming over."

He was, but that wasn't what was making him so sick. It was a guilty
conscious. What kind of kid was he becoming that he was doing so many
things behind his dad's back. Was that normal? Was that healthy? Unhealthy?
Where was all this headed?

"We will worry about Casey when Casey gets over here. In the meantime, I
have another matter to discuss with you."

"What, dad?"  Even though at this point he really did not want to hear it.

"Do you know a boy named Phillip Headley?"

Kelley shook his head no, though the last name sounded remotely familiar.

"His mother Ginger Dawson grew up here. The Dawson house was across the
street from the Sharp's and next door to the Gaither's. It was torn down
about 5 or 6 years ago."

"I didn't have anything to do with that dad, honest."

Hal couldn't help but laugh.  "No, Kelley, I know. It was condemned by the
State and torn down before I could get an injunction in. If anything, it
made the Community Integrity Association stronger and increased my support
in Near Spring in our current fight against development in Far Spring. I
was also able to stop a similar process against the Lucci house, even
though that one was still occupied at the time -- and remains so,
thankfully."

Kelley just nodded absently, wondering where all of this was going.

"No, I know you aren't a vandal, Kelley. Ginger was before your time. I
was, uh, friends with her older brother, Sean, who was himself two year
younger than me," Hal looked uncomfortable for a brief second as he said
this, but then continued.  "Ginger moved out when she went to college and
never came back. She married Phillip Headley, Jr. and in the last few years
moved back down here, settling into Coolspring with their son, Phillip
Headley, III."

"I would remember that name, dad; I don't know him."

"He's the Third, so he doesn't go by Phillip."

"I still don't know any Headley's, Dad."

"I believe you know him as Tripp, son. It's his nickname."

Oh . . . . . . . snap.












2:10 pm The Village of Sweetwater

"Hey, um . . .. . . well . . . . . .hey."

When he heard the doorbell ring a couple times, he figured it wasn't just
the UPS guy, or else it was and he wasn't just going to leave the package
on the porch. His mother was forever ordering things by catalog -- they
must get 20 or 30 of those things. 11-year-old Mark West was familiar with
all the delivery people. Federal Express, DHL, UPS, AirExpress, the Postal
Service. Sometimes they would just leave the package at the door, sometimes
he would have to sign for it. It had only gotten worse in the last week.

Looks like Todd wasn't going to answer the door, again, and this was one of
those times that he would have to sign for it. He paused the video game
that he wasn't supposed to be playing on a beautiful sunny summer afternoon
and went to answer the door. It wasn't anyone he would have expected to
see.

"I was just wondering if, um, maybe this is stupid. I shouldn't have come
by . . . . I . . . .just wanted . . . . . . .Thanks. That's all. Just
. . . .Thank you."

"For what?"

"Telling your dad . . . . when I was too scared, too."

"I thought you'd be real mad at me."

"Mad? No way. Mark . . . you saved me. It was . . . . horrible . . . . and
. . . . . . really embarrassing. Still is . . . . So, uh,
anyway. Thanks. I'll be going."

"I'm glad you aren't mad!"  Mark said quickly as the other boy turned to
go.  "You . . . um . . . you're the only friend of Randy's that I ever
really liked. I mean, you know. I always thought you were . . . real
cool. Nice. You know."

Zeke Prosper was barely half a year older than Mark, Mark having been
conceived right on the heels of Randy's birth, much to Sheila West's
chagrin at that time. He supposed it was only the fact that he shared a
grade level at school with Randy and not Mark that he became Randy's
slightly younger friend rather than Mark's slightly older friend. The two
boys, Mark and Ezekiel, really weren't even that much different in weight
and height, either, with possibly Mark being the slightly heavier by a few
pounds, and looking like he was soon to be the taller, as well. And Ezekiel
noticed the boy's voice, as well, for the first time since he realized that
Mark wasn't such a little kid anymore, at least compared to Ezekiel. The
voice was deeper, slightly, and a bit more gravelly than his own. But the
way Ezekiel carried himself made people often think he was older than
Randy, and he carried that with Mark, as well.

On top of that, years of subjugation under Randy's insecurity at the
miniscule difference that made him the older brother, had often caused Mark
to seem a lot younger than he really was. Puberty, however, was doing a lot
to correct that misconception. And finally being free of Randy was helping.

"You want to come in?"  Mark asked. Part of him wanted to have Zeke as a
friend, and part of him was really ashamed. But he wasn't ashamed of Zeke
-- he was holding a different shame inside of him. But the desire to be
friends won out.

"Um, are you sure?"

"Yeah."  Even though he didn't look so sure.
















`It was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness'


2:20 pm Unincorporated area of Indian Spring


"Um," Kelley swallowed. If he was rarely surprised, why couldn't he have
seen this coming?  Probably, like his dad, he was just overwhelmed with how
much was happening in such a short time.  "Tripp?"

"I see you know about whom I am speaking?"

"Uh . . . . ."

"Quit saying `uh' and `um'. Yes or no, please, Kelley."

"Yes, sir. I know him. I don't like him. But I know who he is. What he is."

"That you do not like him is evident by the way you treated him when he was
here. And I know what he is, too, Kelley, but that doesn't excuse your
behaviour, and most DEFINTELY does not excuse your not coming to me or your
mother first. It is OUR job to handle these issues. Not yours."

"But dad . . . ."

"I expect you to defend your little brothers, even if that means physical
force, but certainly not to take retribution and most definitely not to
take progressive action of your own accord and when a person is off his
guard and not expecting it. You are not a bully, and you are not to become
one, either. Likewise, you are not a parent, and you do not dispense
punishments. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."  It would have been mumbled except he knew better. He still
felt he was justified in what he had done. And truth be told, no matter how
his dad felt, he would probably do it again.

"Imagine how surprised I was when I got a call from Ginger, and instead of
a nice friendly catching up, I was being informed that my own son sucker
punched her son -- very hard -- in the face and then kicked him in the
groin when he was making no aggressive movements of his own. Was this
true?"

"Dad, it wasn't really-"

"Yes or no, Kelley. Did you hit him like that?"

"Yes, sir."  He said, more quietly and now looking down shame-faced.

"Did you hit him very hard?"

"Not my hardest, but yes sir, pretty hard."

"Did you kick him in the groin?  - his nuts?"

"Yes, sir."

"Was he making any aggressive posture toward you? Did you feel he was about
to hit you?"

"No, sir."

"Kelley . . . . I don't know what to say. Yes, I understand your anger; I
understand the wrath, the feelings to protect your brother, the need. To be
sure these are known, and I do sympathize somewhat with you. But this is
not excusable. We raised you better. You should have let me handle it. The
doctor she took Tripp to see-"

"Dad, he was probably just faking by that point!"

"Don't interrupt me. I may have done the same, whether you said you were OK
or not. I told Ginger so. And given how strong you are, I don't think you
fully realize it, I told her I thought it was a smart thing to do. This
doctor encouraged her to file a police report-"

Kelley looked up in alarm. The police!! The Coolspring police!! Oh shit!
What if it was Officer Bowers that took the report!

"Don't worry. She did not take the matter to the police, mainly because the
doctor assured her that Tripp was physically OK and because she knows
me. And I expect she knows her son as well, though that did not assuage her
anger. She also informed me that you hired two kids to go through their
house and through Tripp's room looking for these pictures he supposedly
had. Did you do that, too?"

"Yes, sir."  His tone was very meek now, wondering when the true wrath
would come down. His dad was very angry. He didn't need him to sayit; he
could see it, when he chanced to look up, which wasn't much at the moment.

But Hal told him anyway.  "I am very angry with you right now Kelley. Very
much so. Perhaps it's more accurate to say that I am very upset with
you. To be honest, it was part of what was in the back of my mind when I
dealt with you so unjustly earlier; but my own misbehaviour then should not
provide an escape for you now. I think that would just do you a further
injustice."

It was a lot of fancy talk, but Kelley understood the import. He was going
to get into trouble big time, and there would be no mercy just because he
got over-yelled at before. The two were unrelated.

The doorbell rang. Great, Casey already. Bad timing; the kid sure had it in
spades.

"You wait here, and think about what I've told you."

His dad left out, and Kelley wondered what his punishment would be. He
hadn't been spanked in an awfully long time, but he kinda figured that that
might be coming today.

"Right this way," he heard his dad.  "You had good timing."

Good timing? OK, so definitely not Casey. Then he his dad entered with the
guests. Oh this was bad.

"Good timing pays in my line of work, Hal."

"We were just starting to talk about it, Ginger."  His dad said, before
introducing the beautiful strawberry blond woman. She was quite striking,
but she didn't look happy.

"So you're the young man who almost broke my son's nose, and caused him
quite considerable pain in his private area?"

Kelley gulped at the accusation. At least he didn't actually break the
boy's nose; but he remembered his manners.  "Yes, ma'am. That was me."

He looked over at the smirking and arrogant-looking 11 ½ year old smug
bastard and suddenly wanted to hit him again. The nose did not look
swollen, but Kelley thought briefly that he could correct that for the
kid. There was also a developing bruise around one of his eyes.

"I didn't do that."  Kelley said, pointing at the black eye.

"Not directly, no," Mrs. Headley conceded, "but it appears that someone put
the word out that my son wasn't welcome in Indian Spring anymore. He
challenged the person that told him this earlier this week and found out
that the boy was quite serious."

"I'm not interfering with that edict, Ginger," Kelley's dad said,
surprisingly brushing off the effective burn notice against Tripp, "You
know as well as I do that the Mackey Council arbitrates those disputes."

"Fine."

"So let's talk to them also," Tripp said, still with that arrogant
attitude.

"Son, you might want to let your mom navigate those waters."

Ginger didn't pursue it; she must have known it was either a lost cause for
Tripp to fight Kelley's influence, or that he might find himself on a
totally different end of an unwelcomed acceptance.  "We are not here for
that, Tripp. And you are not dictating these proceedings."

"Who are you?"  Kelley suddenly blurted out when he saw another kid
entering the room. It was a tousled dark dirty blond kid with the slightest
hints of copper in his hair. He was tough looking, smug in his own way and
as tall as Kelley.

"Kelley, that is not how we greet guests in this house. He is with the
Headleys and was using our washroom. Now apologize and introduce yourself
properly."

"Yes, sir," Kelley held out his hand to the other boy, "Hello, my name's
Kelley Tucker. I apologize for being rude. What's your name?"

The unknown boy gave a sly and calculated smile and took the hand to shake
it and just said his first name.  "Carter."

Except, when he pulled his hand back out of the shake, it wouldn't
come. Not only that but he couldn't dislodge Kelley's arm at all, and it
was an iron grip without being crushing. He realized that Kelley was
waiting for more than a first name.  "Uh . . . . my name's Carter Destry. I
live down the street from Tripp."

Kelley released the boy's hand and the boy nursed it slightly looking at
Kelley in a whole new light. Carter cautioned himself, Note to self, don't
fuck with this kid.

"Carter is staying with us for a few days while his parents are out of
town," Ginger explained.  "He has an older brother, Joel, who is staying
over with another family."

"The Clary's," Tripp added, not that anyone needed to know.

"Why don't you three boys sit on the couch and let's get to why we're
here," Ginger told them.

"First of all," his dad started off, "Kelley, do you have something sincere
and complete to tell Tripp?"

Kelley was no dummy. He knew what his dad wanted him to say, and a simple
`sorry' was not going to cut it.

"Yes, sir. I apologize to you, Dad, and mom, and Mrs. Headley, and, uh, to
Mr. Headley, for not telling you first."

"And for not letting us handle it?" His dad asked, prompting him.

"Yes, sir," though Kelley did not elaborate further on that, because he
wasn't really sorry for not letting them handle it. At least this way Tripp
didn't get any warning or heads up to allow him to hide the pictures. But
then he turned to Tripp and said, as sincerely as he could muster, "I'm
sorry Tripp, for hitting you when you weren't even ready for it. And I'm
sorry I kicked you when you were still trying to recover from my hitting
you."

"And?"  Tripp asked, with condescension, no less.

"And what? I didn't do anything else to you."

"Like hell you didn't!"

"Tripp!"  His mother warned him, "You watch your language. Now except his
apology!"

"No! Not unless he also apologizes for sending those guys in to go through
my stuff! And to steal things!"

"I'm not apologizing for that," Kelley retorted, "Because pictures of my
brother naked don't belong to you!"

"And he told people to hit me and try and beat me up if I ever came to
Indian Spring."

"I never told anyone to hit you or beat you up; and you say the word `try'
like it would be something hard to do."

"Enough! Both of you!"

"Hal, since my son will not accept the apology for being hit, then I
consider them fair and square on that point. Over and done with. And we
already agreed that the issue of not being welcome in Indian Spring would
have to be taken up with the Mackeys. So there's just one more point."

Hal nodded. He knew what it was. "Kelley, first apologize to Mrs. Headley
and to Tripp for hiring boys to break into their house and rifle through
their things. It was atrocious behavior, and I am exceedingly ashamed of
your action."

"Dad," Kelley was shaking his head, looking a bit lost.  "I can apologize
for having to have to do it, but not for doing it."

"Kelley . . . ."

"I would be lying if I did. I can't do it."

"Well, I am going to insist that you tell us who you hired to do this."

"Dad . . ."  Kelley couldn't turn the boys in. His dad knew it. Kelley
could see that his dad sympathized with him, but Kelley had left him no
choice. But Kelley had already decided he would just take the punishment
and refuse, until he saw something in Mrs. Headley.

"Yes, Kelley, I want the names of the two boys. I have a right to know."

"Yeah," Tripp said with a snear, "Then they'll know you snitched on them!"

Tripp was actually hoping Kelley would not tell, just so he could watch him
get in even more trouble. Either way it was a win-win for Tripp. If Kelley
told, then the two boys would be mad. If he didn't, then Mr. Tucker and his
mom would be mad. Either way, more punishment for Kelley.

But Kelley was ignoring Tripp. He was looking at Mrs. Headley. She already
knew. She already knew who it was, and she even slipped up and said that
there were two of them.

"You know," Kelley said with a slight smile.  "Dad, she already knows who
they are, and I never said they were boys or that there were two of them."

Hal looked over at Ginger who was looking curiously at Kelley. The boy
might make a fine private investigator himself.  "Well, though it seems she
does, I still don't know who they are, so out with the names, Kelley."

"Yes, sir. Cole Haley and Lewis Something. It was Lewis that I asked to do
it. He's the one that got Cole."

"Lewis Kennedy?"  Tripp asked in disbelief.

"Cole?"  Hal said in equal disbelief.  "That nice boy that spent the night
over here last weekend?"

"I'm a nice boy, too, Dad, and look at me in trouble. Don't go thinking
Cole's a bad guy just cause he was willing to help Lewis."

"Actually," Ginger put in, "It wasn't Cole that Lewis really needed. It was
Cole's little brother, Davis. Davis is the one that told Cole what to do at
the computer, and I'm guessing gave him a floppy disk with the software he
needed. Whatever he did, he did it right because I could not find traces
with my own software, and mine is pretty good. And you're right, Kelley, I
did already know, though I haven't talked to the Haley's yet."

"Lewis?"  Tripp was still stuck on the fact that Lewis was one of them,
while Carter this whole time was just watching the back and forth, trying
to decide if this was boring or not. But now that it looked like
punishments were about to be handed out, Carter started paying attention
better. But Tripp was still stuck on Lewis.  "Lewis wouldn't do that to
me."

"Why do you think a 13 year old guy was willing to hang out with you? Lewis
said you showed him the pictures and could get him the same thing."

"That's a lie!!"  Tripp burst out.

"What same thing?"  Ginger asked.

"He's lying, mom! He's lying!!"

"It was a picture of Ethan giving Tripp a . . . . . ."  Kelley paused, both
because he was about to say the word in front of adults and because he
didn't want Carter to hear it. However when he glanced over at the
unwelcome other boy who was suddenly studying his fingernails, Kelley
realized that the kid already knew.  "It was a picture of Ethan giving
Tripp a . . . . . blowjob."

Ginger Headley wasn't a private detective for nothing. Out of everyone in
the room, the reaction she was waiting for was from Carter. And his raised
eyebrows from hearing Kelley was just not the appropriate reaction that a
12 year old should show when hearing this -- unless he already knew about
it.

Tripp meanwhile was exclaiming that it was a lie, that all he and Ethan did
was just take silly pics. Some were just them mooning the Polaroid and
some, well maybe they were carried away and showed their fronts, too. It
was all innocent. It was Kelley that told his little brother to lie and
make it all dirty. Again, there was no real reaction from Carter. He seemed
to be waiting for something else.

"I have to say, Kelley," Ginger said.  "This is the first time I heard this
accusation. Lewis didn't mention the oral sex, any such offer or
picture. He just said they were some little kid pictures that have shown
some skin. He was fairly vague about what was in them."

"Well, Mrs. Headley, no guy my age would admit to trying to get that from
some little kid. Cole will tell you the truth. I know he saw the
pictures. I saw them, too, before I burned them."

"So if they exist where are they?"  taunted Tripp.

"I just told you I burned them."

"Kinda convenient for you."  Tripp argued. Kelley didn't have a rebuttal
for that, except to appeal to his dad that he knows what he saw and that he
was telling the truth.

Ginger then informed them, "I will be meeting with Mr. and Mrs. Haley and
their two sons this afternoon, in about an hour actually. So I will ask
Cole then."

"He'll just call Cole and tell him what to say!"  Tripp said.

"He'll be with me the whole time," Hal told the nervous boy, "and I will
not let him use the phone until I hear from your mother."

"But he and Cole are friends! Cole spent the night over here, mom! They
probably already came up with a story!"

"I don't know Davis," Kelley said.

"Davis?" Tripp asked with almost a snarl.  "Davis is a dweeb. He doesn't
know what's on those pictures. I never showed him- . . . . . . . I mean
. . . . Davis . . . . . He hired somebody to break into my room!!"

Tripp was pointing at Kelley went he hollered out the last sentence,
obviously in hopes of deflecting attention off his floundering. It didn't
work, but for the sake of argument, the two adults let it rest at that.

"He as a point, Kelley," Mrs. Headley said.  "Regardless of whether or not
you are being honest about what was on the pictures or what my son was or
wasn't doing, you still hired two boys to enter my house without permission
and go through our family possessions. For that I am most aggrieved and
will see all three of you punished for it. Now I'm not a monster, but I
think something for the rest of the summer will teach you a lesson."

"I agree."  His dad said.  "And I know just the thing. Kelley has a new job
doing lawn care on Wednesdays in Coolspring. How about instead he work on
your yard for free on Wednesdays?"

Kelley's heart sank. Everything -- everything! -- he had done and gone
through all that . . . . . that . . . . stuff! . . . . . just to get this
job and now he wouldn't be allowed to work it.

"That works fine, Hal. It works out with what Lewis will be doing, which is
washing and detailing the cars once a week. But, uh," Ginger Headley really
wasn't a monster, and she could see the heartache spreading through the
boy, "I don't want to take a job away from your son. He was obviously
looking forward to that."

Hal looked over at Kelley and also saw the desperation, as the boy was
clutching his stomach almost in pain and about to wretch.  "No, you're
right, I can't do that. Maybe another day, Ginger?"

"Tuesdays!"  Kelley threw in with hope.  "Please! I could come over on
Tuesdays after breakfast and be finished before lunch."

"Works for me, Hal."

"Fine, then Tuesdays it is. And I expect you to do a very good job,
Kelley. I know you will, but I'm just letting you know, that if it's too
much for you, the Wednesday job will be cut first."

"Yes, sir, no I'll do a great job! Promise, Mrs. Headley. Thank you!"

She smiled, surprised to see him so enthusiastic to do a punishment job.
"Now I'll just have to work things out with Mrs. Haley."

"Pools."

"What was that, Kelley?"

"Cole knows how to take care of a pool. Ethan told me you guys have a
pool."

"Well," Ginger smiled, "My husband was initially as angry about your
escapade in our house as I was, but after the three of you get to work for
the rest of the summer, he may just be happy you broke in. Provide a good
job is done, of course."

"Kelley is hard and dependable worker, Ginger."

"Must run in your family, Hal. There is one last thing. You owe my son
something as well. Irrespective of what you say he did, you still had his
room ransacked, and since you aren't willing to apologize, then I don't
know what that should be."

"I do, if you'll accept it."  Hal told Ginger.  "I don't know what he
offered those two boys to go into your house, but whatever it was, he'll
give it to Tripp personally."

"I can accept that, and Tripp will, too, if he knows what's good for him."

"Yeah, OK, I guess."  Tripp was a little disappointed. He was hoping for
more prolonged and fantastic punishment than this. Even Carter had been
hoping for a spanking or something. But if they had looked over at Kelley,
they would have seen the life drain out of him.

"Dad . . . . no . . . . ."  He barely got it out over a whisper.

"I'm sorry son, but that's the final word. It's already done and
accepted. I know it will bother you to no end to give your money over to
Tripp, but that's the point."

"And I hope it teaches all three of you boys," Ginger added, "that when you
pay for something bad to happen, you will keep paying for it when you are
caught."

"But, dad . . . ."

"Kelley, I don't care if it was a 100 dollars or if you have to work all
summer to pay it off. Although, I'm quite sure that it won't take anywhere
near that long. Each Wednesday after you are paid, you will take your money
over to the Headley's and hand the money personally and politely to
Tripp. Do you understand?"

"But . . . Dad . . . ."

"No but's, Kelley, now do you underst-" Hal paused. As soon as his mind
registered the word `but' his brain made a connection.  "Oh, no. You
didn't!"

"What?  . . . Oh! NO, not that! . . . . um . . . . except, uh . . . . ."

"Kelley, what did you give these boys to do this for you?"

"Uh . . . . what they came for, at least, what Lewis came here to get with
Tripp that day I punched Tripp."

"No WAY!!"  Carter suddenly exclaimed out loud.  "You gave them BLOW
JOBS!!???"

"Carter, watch your language!"

"Sorry, Mrs. H. but -- dude, you put your mouth on another guy's dick!"

"And now you have to do us!"  Tripp enthusiastically added.

"YES!!"  The boys gave each other a high five.

"Dude, did swallow-"

"-or spit?"

"I think he's a swallower!"

The boys kept a chatter going, and Kelley just went from mortified to
angry, though all the while completely sick to his stomach. Ginger was
taken aback momentarily by this, but not drastically. After all, she had
grown up in Indian Spring. She looked over at Hal and saw that had his head
in his hands and was rubbing his temples.

"Hal, are you OK?"

"Oh yeah, couldn't be better. Just like this day, just gets better and
better. And this is my model son."

"Then, about this arrangement . . . ." Ginger started, but stopped and
along with Hal, looked up when they realized that they no longer heard the
excited congratulatory chatter of Tripp and Carter. Instead there were just
sounds of hacking and choking and aborted gagging. They looked up and saw
both boys clutching their throats uncomfortably, with Tripp pointing at
Kelley. They looked over at Kelley who just shrugged slightly.

"I want to know, Ginger, more about what the boys are saying your son
really intended. As for Kelley . . . . ."  Hal sighed. He had meant to
punish his son, but he did not like blurring the lines of sex and
punishment.

"I understand, Hal. I'll let you call it; but I know how Indian Spring
works, and if that boy can throw his mouth on getting other boys to break
into my house and trash my son's room, then he can do the same to repay
it. I'll take care of Tripp. Maybe I'm out of line, but that's what I
feel."

Hal looked at his oldest son. This was crazy to allow this to happen. But
he slowly reviewed just what had come to light so far. He had given up his
anal virginity, with no good reason why. Got a job without even asking
permission. Forbid Ethan from going over to the Brewers. Snuck out of the
house late at night. Covered up his brother's being used for photos and
possible sex. Punched a boy when he wasn't looking, almost breaking his
nose, and then kicking him when he was still halfway down. Offered blow
jobs to older boys so they would break into someone else's home.

What the hell had happened to his good kid? All things considered, maybe it
wasn't all so bad, but that was just for the month of June. Maybe Kelley
needed a scare to see where this direction would take him. Maybe, since he
was so insistent on making grown-up decisions, he needed a taste of
something that could serve as an allegory of adult consequences, something
distasteful that he could wrap his head around -- literally.

"OK," Hal said reluctantly.

"Dad!"

"Let me finish. I'll agree to continue with the punishment, if Tripp wants
it, but if you find that what the boys are saying about Tripp is true, then
he takes over Kelley's debt to him and starts to repay it on all those
other boys. Deal?"

"Aaackk!"  Tripp tried to get something out, but was still clutching his
throat as the spasms slowly died down. It didn't look like he was fully on
board with this idea.

"That sounds fair," his mother said.  "I know my husband, Phillip, would
approve."

Kelley was still in a bit of shock when his dad and Mrs. Headley settled
out the details, which alarmingly included Carter, since he was a guest of
the Headley's at the moment, and left out of the office to let the boys,
none too happy with the throat punches on the sly, collect on their first
blow jobs.

"So how many did you have to give Louis and Cole?"  Carter asked, with a
savoring look of victory on his face as got off the couch, stepping around
to face Kelley ask he asked, and even starting the zipper down his pants.

"About four or five each," Kelley said, trying to swallow down the bile
from having to complete this odious act on such a putrid boasting
kid. Actually Carter himself was a good-looking sort of cute, in a street
urchin leaning to the wrong side sort of way. But Kelley wasn't seeing
that; he was just seeing who the kid chose to hang around.

"So will say five," Carter said in a husky voice -- partly roughened from
the earlier side chop and partly from the randy horniness that was
unmistakable in the gleam of his eye as he fished out his dick, already
growing to a full erection visibly before the other two boys.

Kelley looked at the menacing 3 ½ inches of hard alien flesh, but
unfortunately not so alien that he didn't know what to do with it. It
already had a film of clear wetness seeping up to the hole in that spongy
helmet, and in no time flat was more erect than most boys' dicks he had
seen yet. At the base of the shaft was a small set of developing
blondish-brown curls, somewhat fewer than Kelley's, but much more
intimidating at this close distance.

Instead of leaning forward to take the dick in, he let the arrogant boy
pull his head flexed downward to slip that hot flesh smoothly into Kelley's
hesitant but accommodating mouth and slid it home all the way to the
base. Using his feet as propulsion, he rocked securely and confidently into
Kelley's mouth, face-fucking the poor boy on his home base, without so much
as a bye-your-leave.

Kelley tried to block out the humiliating dirty speech used by the boy
throughout his oral domination, even to the point where he filled Kelley's
mouth with cum within just two minutes of hurried, yet elated, facial
planting that kept Kelley's nose plastered up against the boy's pubis,
leaving Kelley with a seemingly permanent recollection of his specific boy
odor. In fact, the rank humiliation magnified those slight yet undeniable
airy flavours that emanated from the young but processing pubic hairs of
his dominating menace, such that Kelley never quite forgot how that
particular boy smelled.

But alas, just as he was unable to block of the odor of the boy's
pubescence, or the taste of the fruits of that pubescence as two and a half
good volleys of cum flowed over the back of his tongue and down his throat,
so he was also wholly unable to block out the sounds and words that
compounded his disgrace. Never before, even in the shocking first times he
was introduced to dick, either via his stretched but yielding anus or by
his equally virgin, but compliant mouth, had he ever been so mortified as
the recipient of such an unjust and, worse witnessed, act.

No sooner had Kelley been pushed off the sensitive dick that just claimed
the session with his mouth and tongue, than Tripp stepped up, smiling an
even more evil smile and unzipped his own shorts, spreading the flaps wide
and hooking his briefs under his balls, presented his smaller, yet
infinitely more revolting, offering for Kelley to suck and minister to. It
wasn't that there was anything wrong with the sickeningly erect pricklet,
or the balls below that left doubt as to anything spurting out of said
small erection, it was the boy to whom the prick was attached.

Kelley reviled this boy, wanted to do more damage to him than he had
`almost' done, both for his own satisfaction and as a more appropriate
repayment for what Tripp tried to do to his beloved little brother. Kelley
did get it; he really did understand his dad's whole meaning and point of
view on this act. He just didn't believe his dad really understood how
incredibly heavy was this price to pay for his actions. This seemed
insurmountable, and the feeling of horror was just a mental block at going
down on this boy, but Kelley's whole gut felt betrayed by his gathering
sense of doing what his dad expected him to do. Tripp's mouth didn't make
it any easier.

"Come on, boy, let's see if you're any better than your brother!"

Interestingly, Carter was the only one who flinched back. He was still
smiling at the comment, but he was ready to put Kelley's dad's desk between
then if need be. Poor Carter; he didn't understand he wouldn't have made it
to the other side of the desk. Kelley had immediately felt every muscle in
his body gear up to instantly react in defense of his brother, but he just
as quickly released that potential into a void of nothingness, much to the
disappointment of half the neurons in his body going crazy wanting to
pummel the insolent little brat.

Maybe his dad did know what he was doing. Maybe his dad did know how
impassably difficult this space was for Kelley to traverse, and maybe
that's why he left his son to complete this hated task. To teach even more
humility, to teach even more patience, to see bigger pictures and
anticipate long term consequences. After all, isn't that how his dad
maintained himself in his successful, if not financially rewarding,
practice?

But he wasn't his dad.

But he his dad was a man that Kelley wouldn't mind becoming. He closed his
mind to the taunts, the insults, and as best he could even to the owner of
this hard piece of boyflesh, an erect and rubbery piece to which, as a
genre, he was unfortunately becoming well-acquainted in the required
task. But unfortunate or fortunate, it remained to him this day to be a
required task in this one instance, at least.

And so he leaned forward, pretending he was oblivious to the heckling of
both boys as he took the small dick in, ran his somewhat practiced tongue
over the protruding glans and proceeded to lavish the underside of the
shaft with as much excitement for the boy that Kelley could stomach, which
was surprisingly much more than he thought he would be able to tolerate. He
even began moving his head up and down the shaft, although there was less
of a distance to go on this one than any others he had sampled, but then
this was the youngest dick he had had, as well.

Kelley kept his mind closed and his attention focused, despite hearing the
boy's verbal taunts move into inarticulate gargles of impending orgasm,
despite feeling the other boy Carter plop down on the couch next to him,
despite having to slap away that same boy's hand as it landed on his inside
leg and quickly moved up to grasp Kelley's crotch (verbally wondering aloud
if the boy was hard doing this), and despite having that same arm then fall
over his shoulders as though the two were buddies. Despite all this, he
inexorably brought the deviant younger child close to and through a dry
explosive orgasm, all the while Carter got his amused close-up of the
degrading action throughout.

It was dry to Kelley, as nothing came out even as he felt Tripp's whole
body convulsions die away until the still-amazingly-stiff penis was
forcefully pulled from Kelley's mouth. Tripp's breathing was ragged and his
mind mildly unfocused while he recollected where he was, as well as what he
just got to do to this older boy; or, rather, what this top of the food
chain, popular, Indian Spring boy was forced to do on his dick!! THAT was
TOTALLY awesome!!! per Tripp's feeble retributive mind.

For Tripp it was an explosive orgasm, despite no actual semen or sperm
being available to shoot into Kelley's mouth, not that the boy wouldn't
LOVE to do that; but he still felt as though his entire body had just been
ripped inside out and forced through the amazingly small hole of his dick
-- all with a sense of extreme pleasure, of course. This was something he
would very much look forward to doing again, and he said as much, to the
chagrin of Kelley.

But just as Kelley thought he was done, he heard Carter second that notion
and felt himself being tugged slightly down to lap level, where he saw
Carter's re-engorged member waiting for the second, hopefully
longer-lasting -- `hopefully' for Carter -- round of semen blasting
fun. Kelley almost sighed, but he played his part in the punishment well,
and without any protest, opened his mouth and let himself be pulled down
toward the dick and its few hairs, and immediately began an expert job in
trying to draw a second round of cum from those developing balls.

By the time Kelley's mouth slid down the fortieth time to kiss those
nascent pubic hairs above and loose scrotal skin below, and after about the
thirtieth exhortation from Carter about how incredible this felt and how
wonderful it was and what a fantastic, unbelievable, and so on
. . . . . Tripp announced he had to go to the bathroom and burst out there,
yelling at Carter not to cum in Kelley's mouth until he got back.

"Holy shit this is in--nnngghhyyyaahh--fffff---credible!!! No . . . . . no
. . . . no . . . . stop . . . . second . . . geeezzz
. . . .mmmmmmnnnahhh!!"

Carter had a lot of difficulty willing himself to pull Kelley's suctioning
vestibule of wonder off his tortured boyhood -- he had never dreamed in his
life that all the dirty name calling on the playground that referred to
this phenomenon could ever even remotely feel this incredible. But he
pulled him off just so he could put a proposition to the boy in relative
subjection.

But first, Carter was breathing way too hard. He needed to catch his breath
before he asked his question, but while he was waiting for that, he got a
sudden inspiration.

"Hey, can you get down on the floor, between my legs and do me like that?"

Kelley shrugged. Anything to get this over with. He knelt on the floor and
knee-walked himself between the boy's spread legs and rested his arms on
either thigh to the side of him, readying himself to go down again on the
leaking, eager dick.

"Oh shit . . . ." came and almost desperate exhalation, and the next part
was said with almost fearful quietness. "Can you . . . . can you . . . . do
it naked . . . ?"

Kelley almost smiled. Actually he did start to smile and had to choke it
down. The boy may have started with some arrogance -- and a sense of that
was still fueling Carter's increased enjoyment of this act -- but the
current request had none of Tripp's malicious nature, but just the almost
amusing complete wonder of a boy being brought into his first real sexual
experience.  (The back of Kelley's mind was actually saving his first true
such experience -- despite all the actual experience he had had -- for a
girl).

Kelley still had that half-unwanted, but couldn't be helped, semi-smile on
his face as he kneeled up straight and pulled his shirt off over his
head. It was weird. He could tell that Carter wasn't the least bit gay --
whatever that meant anymore -- but the boy's breath caught as the few
underarm hairs of Kelley's came into view and his dark small nipples caught
the abashed stare briefly before Carter's eyes travelled downward and,
though embarrassingly so, watched with some excitement as Kelley undid his
pants and pushed them to his knees, along with his underwear, revealing to
the boy a longer dick, larger nuts, and a bit more hair on this boy just a
couple months younger.

But Carter did not begrudge the boy being more developed, as he was looking
at a specimen of perfection that something in the very base of his being
human and in a natural state of pubescent curiosity that he must simply
take in with rapture. He had no idea why, and he had really never looked at
a boy like this before, but he was definitely sexually charged before he
saw it, and more than doubly so now.

"Holy shit! Fuck, this gonna be . . . . . fucking . . . amazing!!"

Again, Kelley could not stop a wry smile from crossing his face and he
walked himself forward again and leaned in to take the pulsing dick back in
his mouth. Somehow he knew that the boy was enraptured and his sexual state
had been amped up a few degrees.

"Oh shit . . . YES!! . . ." Carter yelled as he felt Kelley's soft lips
descend and that talented tongue once again wrap around his
dickhead. Kelley worried some that his own dad and Tripp's mom could hear
these exclamations; but Carter had different concerns, "No . . . no
. . .fuck . . . . ah, ffff-FFUCK, please stop!"

He pushed Kelley off again, almost bewildered as to why he did that until
he remembered his plan. Carter looked at the door ajar, listening to
Kelley's dad telling a story in the kitchen to Tripp's mom. Once assured
that they would not be overheard, Carter presented his offer to Kelley:

"Look, I know all about Tripp and what he was doing. I saw all the pics of
your brother, and Tripp offered your brother's mouth to at least five other
guys, besides me and Lewis. I was there the day he showed Lewis and my
brother. Now, my brother just thinks Tripp is a pervert and he and one of
his other friends didn't want anything to do with messing up some little
kid. Might have been different if it had been you. But me and Lewis, and
probably the other three boys, we woulda done it."

Kelley started to get angry, but Carter just held up his hands and asked
him to `wait up' while he finished what he had to say. What he offered
Kelley was this, Carter would tell the truth about Tripp to Mrs. Headley if
Kelley would double or triple the number of blowjobs he would otherwise
have to give the kid.  "It would mean no blowjobs for Tripp. Think about
it. You might hate giving them to me, but you would really hate giving them
to Tripp, after what he wanted to do to your brother. And you're so fucking
good at it!! Please, please, please, I want more . . . ."

"How do you know I just won't make you tell?"  Kelley asked the boy
menacingly.

"Cause, even though I'm pretty sure you could beat the shit out of me,
maybe even with one hand, I don't know, you just look like you could; well,
I'm pretty sure that if you did, you'd get in more trouble, and maybe would
even have to give me more than that."

Kelley doubted he would be made to give more, but he certainly wouldn't be
let out of his current obligation to Carter, even if he was let out of the
one with Tripp, eventually.

"And besides," Carter added, "Dude, I don't even think I would care if you
beat me up, if this is what I got out of it afterward."

It was such an odd sentiment, but when Kelley looked up at the boy he could
see that not only was it equally oddly said with such a natural
exhilaration unexpected of their initial roles in this castigation, but
fully with a refreshing honesty that Kelley could not work into any hatred
or even so much as disdain for the boy. Though at the same time, Kelley
could not entertain any acceptance of this notion becoming a reality. He
would not consent.

But then he heard the flushing of the toilet and knew that Tripp would soon
be rejoining them. The thought of having to do that boy again . . . . There
was a brief competition in Kelley's body between a shiver and a gag reflex,
but duty and self-control won out.

"No, I won't do that. It would go against the very reason my dad is making
me do this. And I'm pretty sure he hates it enough. Even if I lost all my
self-respect, I wouldn't do that to him. Why can't you just tell Tripp's
mom the truth?"

"Well . . . . honestly, what would be in it for me? That's a lot of trouble
for something that's not so much my worry. I never came down here looking
for your brother, remember? I'm just in the right place at the right time."

He didn't need to preface his sentence with `honestly'. Kelley could see
the boy was speaking `honestly'. But he also seemed a bit saddened at
something lost. Kelley almost felt sorry for him, but more quickly cursed
himself for being the unintended, though self-designated, prey of other
people's true and undisguised emotions. If it wasn't Carter's
responsibility to care about truth for the sake of having it, then it
certainly wasn't Kelley's responsibility to care about the boy's
interestingly vast sense of loss over something that wasn't his to have, at
least not at this juncture in life and not from this boy.

Without another word to the boy, Kelley leaned over and took the dick back
into his mouth to provide the most perfunctory blow job possible. It was
the first time in this short sordid history of sexual servitude into which
he had tripped knowingly (if such a thing could be said to be done) that he
realized two things, one each about the essential two participants in each
act he had undertaken.

For one, he was realizing, as he did his best to do his least work
currently, that despite his detestation of every blowjob he had give
outside of one and a half for Malcolm and half of one of the five he gave
Cole, that he had still given everyone his best. He had alwys tried to do
the best he could on every dick. Now only in the last one he had provided
to Malcolm did he ever approach the giving of head as something for which
there could possibly be something mystical, magical, or enjoyable in the
act for the one whose mouth was at work. That one had been more ---
experimental.

But in everyone of the others, however, including the first one to Carter
and the other detestable one to Tripp, the one that gave him cause to want
to stick a glowing hot poker into his brain and sear the neurons that would
deign to float that memory about for the next however long period of his
life in which it could be dredged up, uncalled, unwanted; even that one, he
gave his all to do the best job he could for the recipient. It was just who
Kelley was. To do something wasn't just to do it right, but do it so that
it was fully appreciated. It didn't matter who the recipient was of
whatever action -- mowing the lawn, walking a dog, babysitting, whatever --
what you agreed to do was all that mattered.

And it was such that it didn't occur to him that in being `forced' through
various circumstances to do something so undeniably humiliating, something
so repugnant, that he could have just shirked from the full court and done
just enough to satisfy the minimum requirements. That wouldn't have been
him, but for something like this, an idea, that despite its elevation in
his history from idea to action, that could never become something about
who he was, that he didn't have to reciprocate. He didn't have to give
something of who he was -- namely that boy that went the extra mile and did
the job right -- he didn't have to give that part of himself to this action
-- namely the oral servicing of other boy's dicks.

And so he didn't; for the first time, as he performed his last rites on the
still engorged 3 ½ inch cock before him, he gave it the least effort
required just to get the boy to cum.

The second thing he learned, as he very slowly, but surely, brought the boy
forward to his second orgasm, was that in not giving it his all, a boy,
even one with only a prior solitary experience, could in fact notice the
difference. Even though he could bring the boy to fruition, even his second
in less than half an hour, as evidenced by the slimy saltiness that was
spurting out once again from Carter Destry's engaged erection, a substance
that Kelley dutifully, though fully dispassionately, swallowed down.

Even as Carter's orgasm hit, despite the reflexive "Fuck!" he breathed out
in ecstasy, despite the convulsive thrill than ran through him, threatening
to turn his legs to stiffly incompetent dancers, as the climax broke the
last of his innocence, even with this Kelley could tell the boy had a touch
of a great sadness at having missed something special. It was enough to
keep Carter from liking even the splendid second cumming. He pushed Kelley
off as soon as he was spent.

Carter could not look at Kelley, at least not in the face; he did steal a
few chagrined glances as the boy redressed. It was an unfocused anger that
Carter felt, a frustration that there was now this gush of feeling and
fluid that was to come out, but neither another boy's mouth or his own hand
would draw it out for some time to come. It was though Kelley now cheated
him of climaxing completely, but he wasn't even sure where he could place
the blame on that, much less if the feeling was real or not.

"Hey! I want my second term."  Tripp exclaimed, having been thoroughly
transfixed through the last of Carter's reception into exhaltation.

"No, you, dweeb, you already got one," Carter said angrily pushing Tripp
ahead of him toward the door of the office.

"No! I get to have-" Tripp began to protest.

"Shut up! Quit talking so damn much, or maybe I'LL beat the shit out of
you. And don't think you'll get anything from my dad, he already thinks
you're a punk."

Carter pushed him again toward the door and kept pushing him through it and
out into the hallway, leaving Kelley to finish his redress of shame without
even a backward glance.




The Headley's were leaving after Kelley's dad and Tripp's mom chatted a bit
more in the kitchen, and after Kelley was made to go outside and shoot a
few baskets with the boys. Tripp tried to spend the whole time by reliving
Kelley's humiliation, but he soon tired of neither Kelley nor Carter paying
the least attention to him and went to wait in his mom's car.

"So," Carter began slowly, still not really looking at Kelley or receiving
any specific recognition in return, except for waiting for the ball to
bounce off the backboard so that he could take his own turn, "Will Tripp
really get beat up if he comes back to Indian Spring?"

Kelley just shrugged, just biding his time until this kid was gone.

Carter just sighed as he got the ball when it was his turn to shoot. He had
conflicted feelings about all of this. On the one hand, he really didn't
want t get that involved; he just wanted to reap some of the unexpected
rewards of this amazing other boy's trouble; on the other hand, something
about the boy just made him feel guilty that he had ever gotten a blow
job. Still the blowjobs were amazing, even the second one that was severely
toned down. However, that second one left something inside of Carter
desperately panting, needing more. But then there was the part of him that
just wanted Kelley as a friend.

Carter was new to actual sex, and some deeper part of him realized that his
introduction had come too fast, too soon, too strong, and that once that
was satisfied, if he could get it satisfied, he would still be losing out
on the better part of Kelley. He realized that Kelley would make a pretty
good friend. And he didn't have a whole lot of those. Well, none, really,
any more. Plus, knowing Kelley would be a way to escape Coolspring from
time to time.

Yeah, like that would ever happen. He retreated back into himself and was
startled when he heard Kelley ask him,

"Why do you even hang around with Tripp?"

Carter just shrugged and took his next shot before answering.  "He's not so
bad all the time. And . . . . I don't know. He's a little weird, I
guess. Kind of likes for you to be able to see him naked. I felt weird
about it, but I kinda . . . . ."

Carter stopped, uncomfortable that he was about to admit that part of him
wanted to see, not understanding that that was a normal fleeting part of
his psyche, but that most of him wanted to avoid the strange kid. That was,
until, Ethan came along. Then once Carter found out about that, a whole new
realm had opened up between Tripp and Ethan, a realm that excited a
different part of growing, young Carter than just his passing phase of
curiosity in same-sex development. Well, then he started hanging out with
the boy more. The promise of getting to try this new thing with Ethan
sorely tempted him, all the more so when he saw how eagerly Lewis had
reacted to the offer.

After things fell apart, Carter hung about just to see what interesting
turns this mini-saga might take, especially as he wasn't particularly
vested in any such way that could get him in trouble. The fact that he was
spending so much time there led his parents to ask the Headley's to watch
their son while they were away, with his brother Joel staying with Reese
and Chandler Clary for the week. And then, now here he was, having gotten
what he had wanted, but not particularly wanting involvement anymore.

"I kinda," he said, redirecting his thoughts, "Just got stuck with Tripp
this week cause my parents thought we were closer friends than we really
are. I guess I kinda don't have any close friends right now. One moved
away, one, well, he just has different interests now. And one other kid my
age, well . . . . our age, I guess . . . . we used to be friends, but
. . . . . he's kinda weird, too. Except he doesn't trust Tripp, but Tripp
can be fun and funny sometimes. This other kid is just all wrapped up into
Star Wars and these weird board games and things like that . . . ."

Carter's voice trailed off, partly after realizing that he felt a bit
destitute of friends, and partly because he regretted losing some of the
ones he used to have. Why did his neighbor Pete have to go all SciFi and
robotics/computer weird on him? Pete hung out with Davis Haley a lot more
these days, anyway. And he partly trailed off because he realized that
Kelley wasn't concerned with his pathetic life. It only made him want
someone like Kelley even more as a friend.

But Kelley was listening, even if he wasn't that concerned, or at least was
trying not to be. He understood what his dad had said once to him, that he
couldn't fix the world, and that he shouldn't be so arrogant as to think
that he had some responsibility to do so.

"So why didn't you become friends with Cole or Lewis?"

"Oh, because anybody in my brother's grade, and most the guys in my grade,
would rather be friends with my brother, either cause they think he's
cooler, or they think I'm just a little kid, you know, in comparison to
Joel. Anyways, my brother likes it like that. And he encourages people to
ignore me. So does Reese Clary, and their friend Caleb Birch. Even Caleb's
little brother Shawn would rather hope to be included with Caleb and Joel
and Reese than do anything with me."

"Cole's more of a friend to Chandler Clary than the other guys. And
Chandler's OK. Maybe it's not them. Maybe it's you."

"Chandler's 14 and going into high school next year. He doesn't want to
hang around a 7th grader. Hey, wait, how do you know Chandler?"

"Friend of Cole's. I know about those other guys, too, including your
brother. Saw him actually a couple days ago."

With that a whole new thought occurred to him and he glanced nervously at
Carter. The same thought apparently occurred to the Coolspring boy as he
got a sly smile on his face. Kelley was worried for a second, but then
relaxed as the boy said:

"Don't worry, I won't tell any of them. I won't tell anybody what you did."

"Even if I don't give you what you want?"

The smile faded off Carter's face.  "I don't really want it anymore, at
least, not the way I can have it."

"What about the other three I owe you?"

Carter scowled, but at the situation, not so much at Kelley, "You don't owe
me anything. You never did. I don't really wanna talk about it, if that's
OK."

Kelley just nodded. Was he kidding? Was it OK? Did he think Kelley really
relished that memory?

But Carter really couldn't let it go.  "Why did you do it? I mean
. . . . how could you even do that?"

"I love my brother. It was the only thing I could think of to stop Tripp
from trying to ruin his life. If it got around Coolspring, then at some
point it would get around Sweetwater. As for you, well, I have to trust my
dad. He doesn't want me to turn out like Tripp or . . . . well,
anyway. That's why. Besides, I'll live. Some guys actually like doing it."

"Gross."

"Why? What if they do? What business would it be of yours?"  Kelley asked
him, a bit angrily causing Carter to step back and throw up his hands in a
`whoa, it's all cool' sort of gesture."

"So, um, does that mean you're . . . . like that?"

Kelley sighed. He shook his head and said quietly, "No. I'm not."

"Oh," Carter said, a bit confused, and then it dawned on him.  "Oh, right,
your brother. But I'll never say anything about that, either!! Honest!"

Carter had quickly added that last part when Kelley threw him a sudden
glance of warning. Kelley softened and nodded his appreciation of Carter's
discretion.

"But I can't stop Tripp from telling, and he will. He'll tell everybody."
Carter thought about this for a second, seeing Kelley's pensive vexation ,
and added, "course, I'll just tell everybody he's lying. And nobody will
believe him."

"I don't want you to lie for me."

"Well, I didn't really ask you, did I?"

Kelley smiled. Maybe Carter wasn't so bad. He would have to talk to Cole
about him. But Kelley was still self-conscious enough that he wanted Carter
to see him as all-boy, and not see his having given blow jobs as a stain on
that fact.

"You know, a lot of boys fool around, some a little, some a lot, and it
doesn't mean anything about who they are, what they're gonna be interested
in later. I'm just saying. Giving a few blow jobs gives you some
perspective."

Kelley smiled uneasily. Carter just nodded, just as uneasily; but Kelley
could see he at least tucked it away for his subconscious to gnaw on
later. It had the effect later that Kelley had wanted. Carter had no
interest whatsoever in putting his mouth on a boy, but he certainly enjoyed
having it done. So if he enjoyed it, what did that say about the other boy?
It certainly could not say anything bad, since they would both of them be
fooling around together. So it couldn't be so bad for a boy to do that.

But Carter wanted to move away from that subject. Now that he had Kelley
actually acknowledging his presence, he asked again.  "Is it true that
Tripp can get beat up if he comes down here?"

"Not by me, obviously. And I didn't ask anyone else to do it. But it's
known around the Spring that he isn't wanted. How the other guys view that,
I don't know."

"What about me?"

"What about you?"

"What if I wanted to come back down here?"

"Why would you want to come back down here?"

Carter examined the ball briefly, before tossing it even harder at the
backboard.  "I guess I don't."

"Carter, it's time to go, are you ready?"  Mrs. Headley asked as she came
around the corner of the house.

"Yeah, I guess so," he said, a bit dejected, "Nothing else to do here."

"Hey Carter, you play tennis?"  Kelley suddenly asked the boy.

"Yeah, why?"

"Meet me at the Coolspring tennis courts at 9 am on Wednesday."

"OK," the smiled, "I hope you're good."

"I have a plan."  Kelley smiled and waved goodbye to the boy who wondered
how much he should be on his guard with this `plan'.

"Kelley," Mrs. Headley started once Carter was out of earshot.  "Are you
angry at me?"

"Angry? No ma'am. Why would I be angry at you?"

"Oh, I don't know; I guess because I made you perform oral sex on my son,
during which the whole time you knew what horrible things he was doing, but
I wouldn't believe it. Yes, I know now. I thought I heard a pause in the,
uh, . . . . . well, you know . . . . . so I snuck back to the office and
overheard Carter confessing what he knew. I'll be having another talk with
Lewis to be sure. I just didn't want to believe my son would really do
that."

"I understand, Mrs. Headley."

"Do you? You shouldn't; you're only 12. But I guess I'm not taking into
consideration who your father and grandfather are. At any rate, I am sorry
for what you had to do. Knowing what you knew, it must have been a terrible
thing to ask of you."

"It was."  Kelley said.  "It was, and my dad knew it. But I think that was
his point. At some point, what you're doing might be terrible and horrible
to somebody, but just cause it helps you get what you want doesn't make it
right. You have to stop and make sure it's the right thing to do, even
you're right for wanting to correct a wrong."

Ginger sighed and actually ran her hands through the boy's soft hairs.
"What I wouldn't give for Tripp to grow up like that. You're so like your
dad, you know, when he was your age. Just as strong, just as reliable, just
as handsome. You know I always had a crush on him? He was two years older
than Sean, my brother, so four years older than me. So all I ever got was
my crush. You know why I didn't call the police, and wouldn't have, no
matter what?"

"No ma'am."

"Because you are the son of Hal Tucker. I knew he could make tough
decisions and see them through until they came out right. I knew Hal was
reliable, so his son would be also."

"But, he wasn't able to save your house here."

"You can't save the world, Kelley. I'll bet if we were living in it at the
time, he would have found a way, like he did for the Sharps. But if he
couldn't, it would not be because he hadn't tried hard; and quite possibly
would be because there wasn't a way. At any rate, my husband Phillip did
not want to move into Indian Spring, so it was really my brother Sean that
lost that opportunity, which is a shame. It would be a good place for his
son."

"His son?"

"Max. He's 12 and a half this month. Tripp doesn't suspect, I think because
Max never trusted Tripp, which is a bit more obviouswhy, now, but Max is
probably a bit more like your brother than most kids."

"Which brother?"

"Ethan."

"You mean Max is . . . . ."

Ginger shrugged and said, "He certainly doesn't look it or act like it, but
last year he told his dad that he liked boys, admitted that he only thinks
about boys when he . . . does his alone time . . . . you know."

Kelley blushed. Yeah, he knew. Jerking off. It was an activity he used to
enjoy alone with some frequency, and would think about all the girls at his
school that he hoped one day to know. But he had been a bit distracted from
that this month.

"Why not just move into that old house down by the Upshaws?"

A cold shiver went through Ginger Headley, though Kelley couldn't discern
what it signified.

"The old Anderson house. I don't think so, Kelley. There's too much
. . . . pain and . . . . . no, I don't want to talk about it. Anyway, we
only lost the house. Your dad was actually able to get the land back. Sean
is thinking about building a new house. It was supposed to be impossible,
given the State agreements your grandfather worked out, but because of the
trouble being stirred up by Elijah, a few loopholes opened up that your dad
has been able to take advantage of, and he secured a few building
permits. But construction has to be completed before the end of August. So
Sean has to decide soon to build or not build."

"They should build. Max would like it here. Ethan isn't the only boy around
here that only likes boys. I know one of the Mackeys and another one of my
best friends is like that. Nobody would mess with him; plus, there's lots
of guys he would have to play with."

Ginger smiled and raised her eyebrows at this last statement.

"Uh," Kelley said, turning bright red and pulling his T-shirt away at the
neck, realized what it had sounded like.  "I didn't mean, um, that kind of
playing with, you know, just, uh, like basketball, bikes, um, swimming,
and, um, stuff . . . . . ."

Ginger couldn't help but laugh.  "I know what you meant, Kelley, and it's
very sweet of you. And one day I hope Tripp turns his act around and can be
welcomed back here in my home grounds. But meanwhile, my brother has to
wait a while until Max turns 13 before he'll move into Indian Spring, just
to be sure things go smoother."

"Why does he have to wait for Max's birthday?"

Ginger paused, not sure what to tell the kid, but part of her felt he
needed to know.

"How much do you know about what happens to a Mackey boy when he turns 12?"

Kelley himself hesitated. He could see now why Mrs. Headley was so
reluctant. For a 12 year old boy and a 30 or 40 something woman to start
talking about butt sex . . . . . well `different' is about the mildest word
you could attach to that. But Kelley took a bold step and told her exactly
what he knew. The story he got in return about blew his mind.

Basically his dad had saved Sean from becoming a bottom of the Mackeys,
though in return the rules got changed by an exclusion to the by-laws. The
first modern rules that Hal Tucker and Bart Corbin had agreed upon, many
years ago, had stated that a bottom could not be a Near Spring non-Mackey,
even if that boy agreed. The exclusion stated that any boy that 1] could be
reasonably associated with the Mackeys by heritage, location (living inside
Mackey Lands), or importance to the clan or a Kinset AND 2] who had ample
notification of such AND 3] who had been told what that meant or had
reasonable access to what that meant, such boy could be excluded from the
Kinset requirement IF he had either 1] sex with a Mackey before the day of
the Choosing OR 2] showed up under his own free will at the Choosing.

It was called the Dawson Exclusion and was an obscure part of the Choosing
by-laws, a part that had never really been tested. But it was formed by the
same Halford Tucker and Bartholomew Corbin in 1968 that had set down the
other modern inclusion rules the year earlier. Kelley understood why Ginger
Headley had told him this tidbit. It wasn't just a story to show how Hal
was trusted by Ginger, or how he could make fair judgments in the face of
unfair situations or requirements, or even how he tried to live within
rules, within law.

It was a warning to Kelley.

If he had sex with a Mackey before the day of the Choosing or if he showed
up at the ceremony, Kelley, who was more than reasonable associated with
importance to the clan, would meet the Exclusion.

Good to know.













3:50 pm The Village of Sweetwater

They had been playing video games for the better part of 90 minutes up in
Mark West's room, and inside that hour, in between kills, ascension to
higher levels, and player death, the two boys had had a fairly decent
conversation, stretched out and detached as it may be. Zeke had, over the
course of the many hours since he had been awake that day, resigned himself
to being back to the old Zeke. It wasn't necessarily bad being the old
Zeke; but his parents were pretty adamant that day against any more sex and
unlikely to allow any unsupervised visits with Nathan.

So video games would be about the closest to intimacy that he ever expected
having with a boy again. He knew it was coming eventually, but he kind of
liked the way he had imagined it before last night, just playing with boys
sexually until he slowly grew out of that and into the availability of
girls. Now there would be nothing to fill the gap.

Except video games.

He could be despondent over that future, but at the moment, he was really
enjoying the unencumbered, yet restorative, time with Mark. It was a nice
combination for Ezekiel Prosper, to be able to hash out his past
relationship with Mark's brother Randy, while at the same time remain
detached, his mind partly engaged with another activity.

It was a healthy way to revisit the pain, the horrible betrayal, and it was
one both boys were desperately needing, without having realized it. At the
conclusion of the present game, they could actually talk about Randy
without stumbling, without some part cringing in either hate or
humiliation, or both.

"It's just weird," Mark said, sitting back and reflecting after they were
both killed in the game at the same time, "How he used you to be with the
popular kids and then turned on you, thinking being popular meant he was
worth something. You were the only thing about him worth anything, and he
threw that away. Stupid."

Zeke was fairly certain there was a compliment in there somewhere, so he
didn't mind too much the whole reference about being thrown away. Besides,
it was true.

"He wasn't always that bad, Mark."

Mark shrugged and picked his controller back up and fiddled with it, even
though the game was over.  "He changed a lot in the last year."

"Well, maybe he'll get better at this place he's at."  Zeke didn't believe,
and Mark looked like there was something Zeke didn't know about `that
place'.

"Can you forgive him, though?"

Zeke thought about this. It had flashed across his mind more than once
since this even all started, but it was only ever a flash and definitely
not anything he would ever chase after.  It was a cold reply that Mark got.

"No. The best I think I could do is just know that he's dead to me. I don't
ever want to see him or talk about him or hear from him again."

"Oh . . . . gosh, Zeke, I'm sorry I brought him up."

"Hey," Zeke offered, placing his hand absently on Mark's pajama'd leg, just
above the knee, "I wasn't talking about with you. He's your brother; you
can't help that and you can't help having to have to deal with him when he
gets back. I just don't ever want to; but I never mind talking about stuff
with you, Mark."

"Cool."  But the reply didn't seem to match the wavering voice beneath
it. Mark sounded a lot more nervous, for some reason.

But before Zeke could fully register that, he felt a bit nervous
himself. His hand was on Mark's leg; he could feel the warmth coming
through the pajama bottoms, thin as they were, and slid down the inside --
around the leg, and not toward the groin -- and transferred something of a
sensuousness from that rounded inner muscle up Zeke's arm and down to a
totally different inner muscle.

As soon as Zeke felt that twitch in his dick, he realized what he was
unconsciously doing and also recognized Mark's nervousness. He jerked his
hand back and mumbled an apology.  "I guess I better go."

Zeke stood up to leave, pulling his shirt down in front to hide the growing
bulge.

"No! Wait, you don't . . . have to go . . . . . if you don't want."  Now
Mark was back to feeling awkward. He was standing in there in a T-shirt and
pajamas, having just decided to be comfortable for the day, since mom
wasn't there and Todd was being fairly scant of presence lately. He didn't
want Zeke to leave; he had always been envious of Randy's relationship with
Ezekiel Prosper.

And it wasn't just because the boy was popular and well liked. Or fun to be
around. Or good at sports. Or handsome. Or . . . . Well, there were a few
reasons. But what made Mark ashamed was that after he saw the videos, he
found another reason, one that burned in his mind -- both in memory and in
desire. He had jerked off several times playing those videos over and over
in his head, seeing those pictures as he could best remember them. Guilt
and anger were the only things that stopped him from stealing a copy for
himself. But they made him too upset to do that, to know that his brother
would do that to anybody, much less his own best friend, and especially
when that best friend was the best thing you would ever have in life.

But it didn't stop Mark's own horny rampages, one-on-one with his dick,
feeling ashamed and guilty each time he included thoughts of Zeke in one of
those sessions. He would resolve not to, but his own sexual desires would
soon betray him once gain. Having Zeke over for a friendly video game,
maybe even just chatting with him, made Mark feel more human, more worthy,
less like the brother he was related too. It even abated his prior guilt at
what he had done with Zeke in his imagination.

He felt better with Zeke there. Although now he just felt awkward. He
couldn't think of a good reason to make the boy stay; couldn't find within
himself a reason why Zeke should even listen. Worse, he suddenly realized
that he had had one of those jack off sessions earlier that morning and had
taken off and left off his underwear. His briefs were laying on the other
side of the bed and were currently no help in containing the erection he
got when he felt Zeke's hand slide across his leg.

In something of a panic, he noticed where Zeke's eyes shifted and couldn't
seem to pull away. Sure enough, when he looked down, he had 4+ inches of
exposed boy meat that had slipped through his fly and was straining to move
ever upward. He quickly clasped a hand over his crotch and muttered a low
"shit."

"Yeah, um, maybe you should go," Mark said, though it sounded like it
pained the kid to say it. He turned slightly away in embarrassment.

"Yeah, uh, don't worry about THAT, Mark, happens when I play, um, video
games, too."

Mark at first frowned as he thought about it. Who got hard-ons when they
played video games? But then he realized the boy was just giving him an
out, and he smiled and blushed.

 "Yeah, I guess so. You know, you don't really have to go. I, uh, just
didn't take care of `things' yesterday," the boy lied as he blushed further
and tucked his offending member back into the thin cotton sleep pants as
best as he could.  "I can put some more clothes on and we can still play
some more. Video games, I mean."

"OK, except, you don't have to change clothes. I kinda like you like that,
as long as you don't ever tell anybody I said that," Zeke ventured,
smiling, but feeling almost as nervous as Mark. This could be dangerous
territory to enter.

Both of them knew that, and both of them decided to leave it at that.

"OK," Mark said bashfully and a little out of breath.  "So, uh, wanna play
Air Combat on the Nintendo?"

Mark kept his hand partially over his crotch, just in case anything tried
to escape again through the fly, and Zeke kept reprimanding himself
internally over wanting to sneak peeks. Mark wasn't like that. And he
definitely didn't want any repeats with a Randy-like situation in the same
house. Well, anywhere for that matter.

So the boys went back to the TV and game console and leaned back against
the end of the bed and started playing each other in a dogfight on the
video game. The only difference being that it seemed that Mark, who had
waited for Zeke to sit down first, had sat just a little bit closer this
time.

At some point in the game play, Mark's knee brushed up against Zeke, once,
then again for longer, then just stayed. Zeke got up to use the bathroom,
and Mark moved his leg back to neutral; but in the bathroom Zeke was
arguing with himself -- should he go there? Was this really that kind of
invite? If it was, should or shouldn't he? This was Randy's brother. The
kid had to be somewhat messed up by all this. Ezekiel sure was.

And should he mess himself up further? And what about Nate? Was this
cheating? Or, he corrected himself quickly, could this be cheating? No, of
course not. Nate had fooled around with the `nice' Cormack kid,
Duncan. Well, according to Nate he was nice, although Zeke was in doubt as
to how nice any of them could be. Nate had also dropped hints that being
with Duncan allowed for some almost mystical sort of protection, as if the
boy's touch, or maybe more so, Zeke thought with a chuckle, his semen,
could give some protective cover from harm.

At any rate, Duncan wasn't the only one Nate had fooled around with in the
last week or so; there was also Bobby Chambers, Paul Caswell, and Andrew
Tyson. Zeke smiled when he thought about how those boys must have been
thrown for a loop by Nate's willingness and interest. No, Nate wouldn't
care. Hell, he would probably think it was hot; if, that is, he was ever
allowed to even see the boy again.

But why was he in here thinking of Nate like that? They weren't boyfriends!
He didn't even want that. This was just some fun time while he was young,
Zeke thought; he definitely wanted to be solid in the camp with girls
later. It wasn't because of some macho thing -- well, ok, maybe a little --
but he really did have a deeper simultaneous interest in girls. It was just
that boys were more available right now, and -- right now -- they were
pretty fucking hot, too. And Mark looked nice.

OK, he admitted to himself, Nate wasn't just a boy to him. But he also knew
that Mark was, and Nate really wouldn't care. So just what was this
argument with himself about?

In the end, Zeke couldn't stay in there much longer, not without it seeming
weird, so he flushed the toilet he didn't even use, washed the hands that
weren't nearly as dirty as he felt his mind to be, and went back in to hang
out with Mark. He had just decided to let Mark direct where their
friendship was to go. Although when he sat back down, it was closer than he
intended; he was practically right up against the younger boy. Younger, but
practically matched for size. Zeke still felt protective to his actual
savior, more than in debt or subservient.

But still, he had misjudged his closeness and was about to subtly move a
bit away, especially as their shoulders were touching and slightly pressed
in together, but that was when he felt Mark's leg press into his as the boy
splayed them open gently and then brought them up slightly to cause the
whole of his leg to rub against Zeke.

Zeke had no idea how hard a woody this action gave Mark, but he took his
chances and once again casually laid his hand down on the boy's leg, just
above the knee, and marveled at how sensuous it was feeling the warm round
leg with its subtle muscle variations. He so wanted to move it up farther
up the leg and see not just how the leg felt in full, but how he felt doing
it. But he was scared he was already seriously crossing the line and
risking losing the friendship of this wonderful boy before it even started.

But he just couldn't help himself and ran his hand along that area, feeling
up this kid, a kid that suddenly was dying faster on the new video game he
had put in while Zeke was in the bathroom. Zeke just continued watching him
play, arguing with himself if he should feel guilty fondling this boy's
leg, not for Nate's sake, but for taking advantage of Mark, who might be
reasonably too afraid to tell him to quit.

Just at this moment, Mark raised his leg slightly, again rubbing it against
the stronger and more popular Zeke, this unbelievable gift to his otherwise
wasted afternoon, this unbelievable opportunity of not only emotional, or
friendly, closeness, but physical closeness. Physical touch. And more than
touch.

It wasn't just to rub his leg against Zeke's that he moved his knee up
slightly higher; Mark was trying to signal to Zeke, without being too
overt, for the older boy to continue moving his hand down his leg, which
he, at first, actually did, flowing quite naturally to the mid leg. It
caused Zeke's erection to go from mostly there to full mast; and he had to
catch his breath both at the audacity of what he did and the surprising
sensuous draw of another boy's thigh.

However, it also caused a gasp of surprise -- not surprise that it was
done, but just how marvelous and how `right' it felt -- from Mark's flushed
face. Zeke felt his guilt twinge stronger, and he pulled his hand off and
tried to mumble `sorry'.

"No!!"  came a throaty surprised exclamation as Mark's character on the
screen fumbled a hit shot and took one in the head instead. It was his last
man in the game.

Zeke, moved himself away a few inches to give the boy space and prepared
himself a good excuse to leave, after cursing himself internally for
sexualizing what could have been a good friendship.

Mark just looked embarrassed and stared at the Game Over flashing on the
screen. He looked like he wanted to say something, but was too scared and
embarrassed to say it. Instead, he just hit the reset on the game to buy
some time to think about the weight of this admission. Zeke meanwhile was
sensing he had really crossed the line and had deeply offended Mark,
especially in light of the witness of Randy's abuse. Zeke had just sworn to
his parents, early that morning, that he would never do such a thing. He
just felt even guiltier, except that what Mark finally said next really
threw him.

"You didn't have to move away," the boy's voice was nervous and throaty, "I
mean, unless, you know, you wanted to."

"I didn't mean to do . . . . that . . . uh, Mark, I guess I should go."

"Please don't."  It barely came out as a whisper, and the boy looked almost
horrifyingly embarrassed that he had said it. Mark started up another game,
though he could barely pay attention to what he was playing -- good thing
the first three levels were a complete cakewalk to him -- but anything for
a diversion, and he was really struggling to make this one look genuine.

Ezekiel hesitated. Could this be legitimate? Could this be what the boy
really wanted? Zeke slid back, closer to the boy, to where the whole sides
of their bodies were touching, and as he hesitantly put his hand back on
the inside of Mark's leg, about mid thigh, he felt the weight of the other
boy almost comfortably melt up against him.

Zeke rubbed his hand for awhile around that warm appendage, wanting very
much to go lower and lower, but nervous himself to overestimate Mark's
interest. Finally he had to ask, albeit in a whisper, "Is it OK, my hand
here?"

The younger boy flushed with embarrassment, unable to bring himself to
vocally answer, but he paused the game and covered Zeke's hand with his
own, and, as an answer to Zeke's question, he move their hands farther down
the inside of his leg, closing his eyes with an almost orgasmic look to
them, as he did this. It was part the feel of Zeke's warm masculine hand
feeling him up his leg closer and closer to the center of his boyhood that
was causing this increasing euphoria in Mark, and partly due to his holding
Zeke's strong boyish hand.

Finally Mark was able to smile and open his eyes. It was almost too good to
be true; only one thing would make it better. But that could also ruin and
destroy the moment, the closeness, the long dreamed and fantasized about
but never expected moment. But still he had to try.

With a light frown of thought, worry and concentration, Mark signaled to
Zeke's hand to move over more, cover and kneed into his crotch, his
pulled-up nuts and standing high and hard prick. Zeke took the hint and let
his hand be guided willingly, not just in the shift over, but took the hint
as Mark fearfully pressed the other boy's hand into his crotch. There was
no mistaking anything at this point, but Zeke magnanimously, and quite
happily, took over and pressed his hand into the crotch, closing his hand
around the nuts that he could clearly and quite eagerly feel through the
pajama bottoms, then pressing down the surprising almost 4 inches of dick
against the boy's lower stomach, and finally reaching around it, feeling it
as best he could through the cloth.

It all caused a ragged breath in Mark. It was going so fast. So
unexpected. So scary, in a way. So absofuckinlutely thrilling. He near
about went bananas when he felt that warm other boy's hand slip through the
fly and squeeze his dick and run along the flesh of it, and then reach down
and cup and fondle his two equally excited nuts. He never felt such a
direct contributory charge to sexual pleasure from those balls like he did
from each of them when Zeke's hand wrapped around them and began to play
and estimate their bedazzling existence.

It caused a whole nother bump in his chest when he heard Zeke exclaim
quietly, "I love your nuts, Mark, they feel so . . . . perfect."

There was a momentary wash of sadness when he felt Zeke remove his hand,
wondering for a split-second if that signaled the heaven-sent day was over,
but this scare was just as quickly banished when Zeke shifted his weight to
turn toward the heavy-breathing boy and this time slip his right hand
directly into the fly and again run a fist along that proud
larger-than-expected dick and slip down further to again caress those nuts.

"I mean, I really, REALLY, like your nuts," Zeke said; he would have
surprised himself except that the moment had made him somewhat drunk and
removed most of the inhibitions he would otherwise have had.

Mark was startled, though a dazed and good kind of startled, as he looked
into the face inches from his own. Mark's mouth was slightly parted in
amazement and wonder, a position perfect for Zeke as he felt drawn into the
darker haired boy's personal space, closed his eyes slowly as he came in
and placed his mouth around those parted lips and massaged them with his
own, slipping his tongue into the startled boy's mouth. But Mark's body
quickly told him that this was, in fact, quite awesome, and he wanted more
of it and quickly learned to reciprocate, with his lips, with his tongue,
with the rapidly learning muscles of the whole of his mouth.

The boys kissed for more than three minutes before Zeke pulled back.

"Wow."  Mark breathlessly replied, almost literally. He was smiling at the
experience and at the realization that through the whole kiss, his young
and churning nuts were being held, protectively, proprietarily, lovingly,
eagerly by the 12 year old boy, just three months into his 12th year, but
so confident, so well liked; and it was Mark's maturing nuts that he was
holding.

Zeke smiled back, feeling his horniness amped up another couple notches and
he again removed his hand from the younger boy's fly and ran it up the
boy's stomach and chest, twitching that virgin left nipple with his
thumb. The sudden and unexpected pleasure caused another surprised gasp and
a pleasure Mark had never once experienced; it was an almost painful
pleasure, but not the least painful, and all pleasure, and though he felt
it distinctly at that nipple and spreading outward, it seemed, at the same
time, to shock his whole system with an undiluted pleasure.

Zeke saw the gasp and used that moment to lean in and cover the boy's mouth
again with his own, raising to his knees before the boy and tilting Mark's
head back for an even more aggressive kiss. Mark was an eager participant,
no doubts of that to either boy, but reflexively put his hand out as though
he could even ward off or stop this onslaught that he receptively craved so
suddenly, as it progressed. But when his hand went forward, it landed on
Zeke's left thigh.

Almost by instinct, Mark brought his hand over to the excited and primed
crotch of his possessor and squeezed down to get his own feel of the boy's
burden that he had seen before only on film but many more times in his
masturbatory fantasies. His actions caused Zeke to start moaning deeply and
expectantly, as if suddenly he was seeing more avenues open up, avenues he
wanted to go down, or up into; which indeed, was exactly what
happened. Zeke now wanted more. Much much more.

But that wouldn't even measure up to what Mark had spent the last week
wanting.

"Mark," Zeke said, breaking the kiss, with both boys breathing heavy. "I
want to see you naked."

Mark was still holding onto and massaging the crotch he was dying to see,
as well, dying to touch, though he would be too embarrassed to have Zeke
find out the things he thought about doing to the boy. And he didn't want
to be like Randy, though it was the same body both brothers wanted, the
same things both wanted to do to that body. But Mark wasn't like that. No
matter how badly he wanted to use Ezekiel's incredible strong and handsome
body for his own pleasure; he couldn't bring himself to do it, unless Zeke
first used his the same way. It was the only way he could bring himself to
enjoy what he wanted, so strong was his hatred of what his brother had
wanted.

But could he even hope for things to go that way? Even now, he didn't see
how they could. But for now, Zeke wanted to see him naked, and he knew his
answer to that.

"OK."

Simple, and a bit dazed, still, as the answer was, it was definitely OK
with Mark if Ezekiel Prosper wanted him naked. Of course, that was now,
while he was sexually charged, when it actually came down to stripping off,
it might be more of a shy and different story. But he didn't have much time
for that, as a happy Zeke now cradled the boy's head and face in both hands
and bent back down to kiss that wonderful and naturally talented mouth.

Mark was surprisingly about 4 times more fun to kiss than Nathan, but guilt
and prurience pushed that thought far out of Zeke's mind as he pushed his
tongue farther into Mark's mouth and felt the boy respond by wrapping his
free arm and hand around Zeke's head and holding him in for a long and
luxurious kiss, one that was having some serious leakage repercussions to
their dicks, dicks that were clamoring loudly in the primitive areas of
their brains for some more forceful front-and-center participation.

Zeke finally broke this kiss, and still holding the boy's head in something
of a caress, made another request of him, albeit one issued as more of a
statement of dire need and exorbitant desire.

"Mark, I want to fuck you. I really want to fuck you."

"Please."  It was a quiet word. It was a word that Zeke had meant to add on
to his `request'. He would have used it with an almost pleading tone, but
was surprised when it came from Mark, and so simply, yet sure. He had no
idea that Mark needed this to feel good about what he wanted to do to
Zeke. And if he never got the chance, then for him, maybe this would be
some sort of pay back to Zeke for the atrocity already visited upon him
from within the West family.

"Are you sure? Do you know what that means?"

Mark nodded his head. He knew what it meant literally. He had seen it being
done to Zeke on tape. He had imagined himself doing it to Zeke when he
jerked off at night. He knew it would be Zeke doing it to him. It would be
his first time being entered; no longer a virgin. He wondered if that meant
it would hurt. He didn't know about that, but he knew he was about to find
out, and he hoped he would have the guts to let Zeke see it through to the
end, no matter how it felt.

"I know what it means. I want you to do it. Please."

Zeke again kissed this marvelous boy, though more briefly.

"Do you have any Vaseline in your bathroom?"

"In one of the drawers, I think."

"Get naked on the bed."

And with one more quick kiss, Zeke ran off to the bathroom, unzipping and
stepping out of his pants as he went. He was back in a flash, in only his
underwear, but faced with a suddenly shy and questioning Mark West. Now
that the moment of certainty had come, Mark wasn't so sure that he wanted
his fantasies to collide with reality. He definitely wasn't all that
interested in getting fucked. Sure, he was curious, but it wasn't his
driving interest. He had just convinced himself that that was the only way
to truly separate himself from his disgusting brother, even though they
were both ostensibly after the same thing: a particular part of Zeke
Prosper.

The problem was, that Randy had had Zeke. Lots of better and more popular
boys would have rather claimed Zeke as their best friend, but Randy became
more interested in the sex and domination, and he destroyed the best of
what he did have. Mark, on the other hand, was titillated sexually by the
7th grade demigod, but was finding himself wanting more of the friend --
more of the hang-around Zeke. He was seeing, in some part, that maybe you
couldn't have both.

And, also, this was his first time to get naked for a boy. He had been
naked around boys. He had been naked with boys. But never for one. Never
for the specific purpose of being naked. But here he was, about to take
that plunge, or rather, about to strip for a boy so that the other boy
could plunge him. He was more than just hesitant. He was suddenly wondering
if he had completely lost his mind.

"It's OK, Mark."  Zeke said as he tossed the jar of Vaseline on to the
bed. He was telling the truth when he told his parents he would never force
anyone. He really did know how it feels. And he saw the nervousness of the
boy. He was already thinking HIMSELF crazy for even passing the thought
through his head that some boy as hot as Mark and as nice as Mark (and
maybe even as troubled as Mark) was turning out to be one who would
actually WANT Zeke to fuck him. Cra-zeee.

"We're not gonna do this," Zeke said with a smile to reassure the nervous
boy.  "I'm not your brother, and you really don't look like you want to do
this."

That did it. That made up Mark's mind. He was determined to have both. Zeke
was a cool guy and could certainly handle it. They could be friends; after
all, Randy was clearly out of the way, and Zeke obviously wasn't holding
anything against Mark. And besides, Mark was just as determined that he
would fuck that super nice ass of Zeke's that he knew to be hiding just
below those boxers, barely hinted at as the plaid cotton fabric fell into
the sharp, defined groove in the back, after molding out the tops of that
comely ass. Or rather, that cumly ass.

Mark smiled at the thought of shooting cum one day both onto and into that
ass. Zeke would let him, he was hopeful, at least, of that. But before he
could ask for that, he had to separate himself from his brother. A clean
and decisive difference.

"No, Zeke, I want . . . . ."  He didn't really WANT it per se, so he had to
change his choice of words: ". . . . I need you to, you know
. . . . . . . Fuck me."

Mark blushed at the last words and had difficulty getting them out.

"Are you sure? Because it doesn't really sound like it, and we really don't
have to . . . ."

"No," Mark smiled as he gathered his courage and pushed his underwear down
and off.  "I'm pretty sure about it. I guess I'm a little nervous, though."

"Oh . . . . shit . . . . ."  The surprise was drawn out, and Zeke had to
grab his crotch, and his very noticeable single pole lift in his boxers. He
couldn't believe what he was going to get to do. And the boy was even a
complete virgin on top of that.

"What? What's wrong?"  Mark looked down, uncertain what was the
surprise. Was he too small? Funny looking prick? Balls didn't hang right?

His dick was no longer straining upward, as the wait and the nervousness
had caused it to drift to where it was hanging free. It was still big and
plumped, but only on the edge of lift -- a lift that slowly began showing
itself after he strip down to nothing.

"You . . . you're . . . . . Mark . . . . . ."

"I'm what?"  He asked nervously, even as Zeke whistled to himself.

"You're fucking hot!!"  Mark would never believe that about himself, except
that Zeke said it so convincingly. He certainly couldn't look as nice as
Zeke, and doubted whether he really had what Zeke wanted.

"No I'm not."  But the denial was a little choked, and the boy was blushing
furiously.

"Yeah, you are. Your dick looks maybe as big as Randy's already, or maybe
bigger than mine mine. I don't know. But it's about 50 times as nice as
your brothers.

"Yeah, well, guess that doesn't say much for him, since he's nothing but a
dick."

Both boys laughed at the joke, but it only helped deflect a little bit of
the nervous, embarrassed apprehension that Mark was feeling and none of the
in-awe randiness that Zeke was feeling fire from his eyes to his groin.

"Holy shit, you're . . . . . wow," Zeke was decidedly happy that Mark was
going through with this, and he walked up and lightly touched the boy's
abdomen, feeling the muscles automatically tighten, and seeing that dick
practically jump to halfway.  "Oh wow . . . . . . . . wow oh wow."

Zeke continued his exclamations as he ran his hands lightly over the
perfect even light tan of the soft unblemished, untouched virgin skin that
was all his to enjoy this afternoon. There were more than a few hairs
already above the root of the dick interrupting that smooth expanse of
lickable, tasteable flesh, and those hairs were dark enough and curly
enough that, together with the boy's full nuts said only one thing:

"I guess you're definitely gonna have something in these nuts to feed me."
Zeke said as he once again took a hold of the nuts with one hand. He had
passed the hand completely around the dick without touching it, which of
course made it rise to a rigid full mast. He loved these nuts.

"Feed you? But I thought . . . I mean . . . . . . I thought you were going
to be . . . fucking . . . me?"

"Oh I am, my friend, oh yes, oh yes, I definitely am. But first I want to
give you something as a kind of Thank You for what you did for me."

"Um, no, you don't have to give me nothin' for-"

"Come on, Mark, be a sport and just let me, please."  Zeke so wanted to
give the boy something nice, but he was just as distracted by what his
right hand now had a hold of, "Oh shit that's nice!! I can't wait to fuck
that!"

Zeke had moved his other hand to the back of the boy and ran it down his
backside, over those rumps and grabbed one to squeeze real good. He sounded
like a kid in his second candy store in his life and the first time he was
allowed to buy whatever he wanted. It really only made Mark more nervous,
but he hid it as best he could.

"OK, but what is you want to do?"

"Just go ahead and get on the bed."

Mark nodded and turned to climb up onto the bed, an action that presented
the whole of his rump, split and showing the whole of his hole, for Zeke.

"HOLY SHIT!!! Zeke exclaimed, almost giddily as he put his hand on those
delectable rump and split them open further to revel the blessed and
glorious, fully virgin, closed opening to tight, orgasmic dreams. Wow, wow,
quadruple wow, was this boy ever nice for the first taking.

"What?"  Mark asked, alarmed again and fearful that he wasn't actually
clean back there.

"Just . . . . beautiful . . . . . you're just . . . . . . awesome
. . . . back here."

"Th-thanks. . . . ."  To be honest, despite Zeke being happy and
complimenting him at every turn, he wasn't making the boy any less
nervous. Just the opposite, in fact.

But he was committed to doing this. Or, at least, he was committed to being
committed to it.

"Is it . . . . . going to hurt?"  Mark asked with a croak in his voice, his
nervousness fighting his fear for the right to fight the winner of the
battle between embarrassment and horniness to see what emotion would rule
this whole experience. Of course he was carrying all of them the whole way
into his first time as a bottom for a another boy, though embarrassment
seemed to be winning out at the moment, as Zeke kept his warm hands parting
his cheeks and looking at the envisioned destination.

And Virgin on top of it all, Zeke was thinking to himself, still unable to
believe he was going to be the first for another boy, and such a great boy
as Mark was seeming to be. A great discovery, for many reasons, Zeke
thought, smiling to Fortune.

"Huh?  What? I'm sorry, what did you say, Mark?"

"I, uhm, said, uh, asked, is it going to hurt?"

"Here, get up on the bed, there, lay on your back."  The boy did as he was
told, still nervous, though something seemed comforting and sexy when Zeke
moved up between his legs, Mark being naked and Zeke loving the whole of
the boy, but keeping his boxers on, even now as they were crotch to crotch,
nipples to nipples and face to face.

Before he answered the question, Zeke leaned in and kissed the boy briefly,
once more.

"It might hurt, but if it does I'll stop. I'll stop any time you want, and
I won't ask or try to get you to let me go on."

"I know."  Mark said quietly, looking up into the boy's eyes, unbelieving
he was blessed at the moment with that view.  "I know you will. But
don't. Just do it."

Zeke leaned in again and kissed the boy, and it was at that point they
truly began to make love. So young and innocent, so inexperienced,
completely for one, and relatively for another, yet still more adept at it
than many adults, perhaps even more so than they themselves would be in ten
or twenty years to come.

As the kiss deepened into something otherworldly and altogether more
meaningful than the romp in the hay they were building toward, Mark became
more charged, more animated and desirous of the whole experience. He
suddenly wanted to lose everything with Zeke, every virginity he possibly
could.

He had one arm around the boy's head, trying to pull him deeper into this
amazing thing called kissing, something he knew of and had seen so many
times, but obviously failed to ever appreciate as something so wondrously
incredible, all the while his right arm and hand were searching and clawing
down that back, even accidentally adding a scratch or two to match those
mysterious ones on the front of the boy, pressing downward along the small
of Zeke's back and slipping under the waist of those soft boxers, finally
coming into contact with the incredible ass that he had so long
unconsciously followed, and for a week had jerked off to, and now finally,
finally . . . . .

He was feeling it, squeezing the living rumps themselves for all he was
worth. He even moved his left hand down to join the right. He had no longer
any need of holding Zeke's head, as his growing excitement had translated
itself through his eager tongue and had encouraged Zeke in turn to grasp a
hold of the boy's head and steady it for an even more furious and
impassioned oral onslaught.

As his hands moved headward again, caressing the strong back of the boy
about to take him, his eagerness could be felt as he wrapped his legs up
and around the boy. He was eager for the fuck, now, actually, for the first
time, really and fully wanting it. He wasn't just wanting it
intellectually, as he mostly had, or for a sense of Justice, which made up
the most of his second reason, or even for curiosity. He wasn't even so
much wanting it any more for the sake of having Zeke Prosper wanting to be
the one to claim him.

No, his need was elemental now. He was wanting the fuck itself. His hole
was arching up, jockeying to be penetrated, his body lusting to be pumped,
his mind and soul clamoring to get fucked! He couldn't have explained what
he was feeling to anyone. He was too young to be that introspective, too
inexperienced to recognize it for what it was. If asked before or after the
event, he could honestly deny those feelings, as he was unaware of them at
the time, at least as far as the over-riding mind's awareness.

He was only dimly aware of his legs wrapping around and climbing higher up
that back, of his hands desperately pushing the waistband of the boxers
down, off those wonderful buttocks, and hopefully off that hard dick he was
needing.

"Fuck me," Mark exclaimed desperately, as pulled out of the kiss, barely
able to catch his breath.  "Just . . . please . . . do it."

But Zeke just smiled. He certainly hoped the boy liked it that much when it
was time to start, but first . . . . . "Not yet. Soon, but not yet."

Zeke moved down and lightly licked and tickled one nipple with his tongue,
causing a few unexpected spasms of delight within the boy's body, but then
he quickly moved over to the other nipple and clamped down hard with his
mouth around the tit, applying a suction that caused the boy's whole body
jerk and Mark shouted out "Oh SHIT!!" and wrapped his legs even tighter
around Zeke's back.

But it was when Zeke began tonguing hard and just a little rough across the
nipple itself, all the while continuing the mouthing and suction of the
whole tit itself, that Mark was practically jackknifing through the painful
pleasure ripping through his body, except he was wrapping even tighter
around the boy, pressing his heels into Zeke's back, lifting his crotch
upward to thrust it into the boys belly and yelling out a stream of
obscenities and shouts that would have shocked anybody coming out of sweet
Mark West's mouth.

He couldn't help it, though, as his body was twisted in agony of trying to
press that tongue and mouth harder onto his tit, needing for the boy to let
up, begging in his mind for him to stop and yet do it harder; his own
pleasure centers were so confused that they were on overload. When he
thought he couldn't be tormented beyond this point, he found out that
Kelley's free hand had found the jar of Vaseline and now a greased finger
eased its way up the Virgin chute. The last knuckle was jammed in hard, but
even in his twisting agony from the nipple persecution, he found he was
trying to shove himself back on the finger and get buried fully in his ass.

Just when his brain was about to become wholly unwired and singed at the
edges, Zeke let up and traveled down to dip his tongue into and press hard
against the oh so sensitive belly button, causing a few other whimsical
seizures in the boy getting his first dose of sex. A few more jerks and
moans from the now practically senseless boy and Zeke moved onward, pausing
briefly to take a deep breath of the boy's crotch and beginning, youthful
pubic patch. Then, running his tongue up the leaking, straining dick, he
really blew the boy's mind.

All Mark could tell anyone later about that blowjob, if he were the type to
blow and tell, or get blown and tell, was that his mind departed this earth
and floated on a plane of melting images of everything he had ever jerked
off to, until at the very peak, he felt a warm, suctioning encasement that
shoved his head into an electrical socket and made him lose control of
temperature, sound, light, air, and consciousness. It quite literally blew
his mind.

All his 11 year old mind, just 3 months shy of 12, could really say though,
was none of the above, but perhaps just what he actually did say, once he
was able to recover -- several minutes later.

"Oh, fuck."  Even this effort took enough out of him that he had to just
breathe for awhile.  "Can we . . . . . ."

"Do that again, sometime?"  Zeke asked, once he realized the boy wasn't
going to be able to finish his sentence. As a reply, Mark just nodded
dumbly, his eyes still trying to swim into focus.

Zeke just laughed and crawled back up the boy so that they were again
face-to-face, although Mark's legs were only loosely wrapped around Zeke
now, not having the energy for anything more dynamic.

"I'll do that for you anytime you like, Mark." Zeke said, looking into the
boy's eyes and kissing him.  "I like it with you."

"But . . . you really . . . . . . swallowed . . . . all my cum?"

"Every shot. You taste good, I liked it. I know it's weird-"

"It's fucking awesome," Mark said, still somewhat dazed, staring into those
beautiful stone green eyes, unbelieving even after it happened what had
just happened. He looked down at those smiling, slightly parted lips and
thought, his dick -- the same dick he measured just the other day when it
was hard and the same one he jerked off every night and some mornings in
summer -- his dick had slid in between those lips, that mouth had just
sucked him, and he had just shot all his seed into that same mouth, Ezekiel
Prosper's young mouth, the same mouth he used to shout out to his friends
in games and greet them at school, he had shot his newly developing sperm
inside there and the boy had swallowed it.

All of it.

Whoa.

It was a lot to take in. But Zeke was still talking.

"And your dick, it tastes pretty good, too, actually. And I like the way it
feels in my mouth. I don't mind doing it again sometime, if you want."

Mark stared wide-eyed. No way! He nodded eagerly, or at least what he
thought was eagerly. He had so little energy left that it still looked a
bit like slow motion.

"Cool. Now I'm going to fuck your super nice ass. You won't be a virgin,
again. Still cool?"

Honestly, Mark just wasn't feeling it and really didn't want to get fucked,
especially now, after having his mind blown about what sex really might
hold in store for him. But there was no way he could tell Zeke no, and he
couldn't show any weakness, or this great boy wouldn't do it. Mark was even
madder at his brother for abusing someone as great as this. He smiled as
best as he could and again nodded an OK.

"Sweet!"  Zeke leaned in once more and gave the boy a minute long
passionate kiss, but even as charged up as Zeke was, he could tell the boy
just wasn't responding like before. He just didn't have the
energy. Luckily, he wouldn't need energy to lose his cherry.  "Don't worry,
you took two fingers pretty good, it shouldn't hurt much if it does. And
even then I'll stop and quit."

"Wait, you stuck two fingers up my butt? At the same time?"

"Yeah, you were movin' on them real nice."

"Wait, when?"

"When I was sucking you."

"I didn't know that . . . . ."

"Yeah, well, you were a bit out of it."

The whole time they were talking Zeke was moving the boy's legs higher,
greasing his dick, and staring transfixed at that remarkable hole looking
up at him, waiting for him to enter in and claim possession of its hidden
depths. He couldn't wait to fire several loads of his own developing sperm
up there. The first to ever do so. The first to ever claim the wonderful
boy, even before a girl could.

There was a twinge of guilt in that last thought, but he banished it
away. It would be all right. The boy would have fun, just the same as him,
and that's what was important. {Zeke still couldn't recognize that Mark
would never be concerned about whether a girl ever `claimed' him or not.]

Zeke held those legs up and back and got even stiffer at the beauty of the
lightest-brown rose flowering before him. But to get his spear in position
for thrusting into that Promise Land, he could really only hold one leg
back, while the other flopped undecidedly, as Mark tried to transfer more
of his slowly returning energies to keeping it held up, more fascinated
than anything by the sight of the older boy's preparations between his
legs.

Zeke lined up his dick, having to push hard to get it to an acceptable
angle, and placed it at the now eclipsed, but lightly felt as he brushed
across it, opening to Mark's rectum, and prepared himself to deflower that
rose, which, with one steady push, he proceeded to do until the head of his
dick compressed warmly and rebounded as it pushed into a new and unoccupied
gripping space.

For Mark it was a sudden surprise, going from feeling that totally alien
sensation of a warm slickened cockhead brush and slightly rim his most
secret hole to losing his virginity after not much more than a
less-than-uncomfortable steady push, but one that lasted all of naught to
say he even noticed the transition from innocent to fucked. One moment he
was a Virgin and the next Not, as he felt his anal canal fill with the
not-unpleasant progression of a boy's hard dick seeking ever deeper
confidences.

It wasn't even long before he felt the whole of Zeke's pubis press into his
bottom, and imagined he could even feel the fullness of that boy's nutsack
pressing into the beginnings of his plump and accepting cheeks and the
hairs of the boy just barely tickling the lower of his nuts. It was in a
sense a wonderful feeling, in that it was something new, and that it
answered many questions of wonderment in and of itself; but as the boy
pulled out and inch or two of dick and slowly reinserted just to pull it
out again, Mark realized that for all its lack of any genuine pain, and for
all the import of its novelty, as well as the utter niceness of bringing
him in great intimacy -- for could there be any greater? -- with Zeke
Prosper, getting fucked just wasn't for him.

Oh, he survived the ride and even gave a grunt or two of surprise where
here and there he got a jolt of pleasure being so roundly and lovingly
fucked, and he definitely enjoyed the knowledge that Zeke was having the
absolute time of his life in his ass, what with deflowering it in addition
to just the smooth and gripping fuck. It was this last notion that let him
smile and encourage the boy throughout with his -- mostly -- honest body
language. But Mark realized at that time that he would never be a bottom.

He would still want Zeke to fuck him regularly. For one, it gave him the
feeling that the relationship he hoped for would be so far distant from the
one that his brother tried to force that both boys could be happy in the
just and rewarding nature of it. In short, he desperately wanted to fuck
Ezekiel Prosper. He knew in his heart that that's where he most wanted to
bury his dick. All through getting his own fucking, in fact, he stayed
semi-hard just thinking of what he would get to do in his turn.

And the other reason he put on a show was for Zeke. He was such a nice guy,
and had been so mistreated by Randy, that Mark genuinely wanted Zeke to
have fun. Getting fucked wasn't nearly as scary, now that it was actually
being down to him (largely, though he wouldn't realize it until older,
because the `foreplay' had been so rigorous and extended), and he didn't
feel the least embarrassed, anymore, about baring his ass for Zeke to enter
and pound until he shot.

That last part, though, as it occurred to him, actually raised his dick a
bit more, so that it looked for all the world, while barely clearing the
skin of his belly, like it was fully erected. That was due to the thought,
the realization, really, that at any moment Zeke would actually be pouring
his semen and sperm into him. Shooting it in. He was going to be pumped up
his ass with Zeke Prosper's sperms, just like he had shot his few
squigglers down the older boy's throat.

It was a thought very much on Zeke's mind as well. In fact, the boy didn't
know what was going to bowl him over first. The sight of lining up his
impossibly hard dick, after so much effort, with that untapped asshole that
was his for the unhindered plunging; the initial push, separation, and
entry into that marvelous expanding muscle; the actual plunging inward of
his steel rod; or the sight of his thick shaft moving in and out of the
gripping flesh, looking for all the world like it was just disappearing
into nothingess deep into the boy.

The rhythm fascinated his eyes and egged on his mental orgasm as much as
the physical friction down and around the whole of his dick as it entered
fully within, over and over. The whole of it shot him upward to a now
unavoidable climax. He felt like the first firework of a finale whistling
out into the dark and comforting night, that long trailing whine of sound
anticipating that any moment -- BOOM -- he would burst across the night
bathing all existence in a wash of pattern and color and be forever
remembered as an indelible afterimage.

And after a few more frantic strokes in and out, a few gasps that
punctuated the change from the smooth frictioned and endless entry to
wilder and harder stabs at desperation to hit that last height before--

BAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The first immense wave of euphoria hit him as he fired a large surfeit of
sperm deep into the bowels of the rocking younger boy, transferring his
shuddering orgasm into the last fretful poundings of imminent semen release
within the no longer pure or innocent rectum of the smiling boy receiving
it all.

Zeke shot another and another and another and was soon practically out of
breath and nearly ready to collapse on the boy below him. He couldn't
believe how great that felt. Aside from his parents scaring the shit out of
him early that same morning and now knowing something of his sexual
predilections, he was realizing that this may well become the most sexually
satisfying day of his life (he was, after all, still an adolescent and had
no great ability to think of the future as anything but downhill or
remote). The boy's ass had been everything his mind had built up and more.

And it was his. No matter what happened between the boys after this, no
matter how things progressed, he would always and forever be the first one
in that ass. He was Mark's first. He took the boy's virginity. And since
the boy was in total agreement, Zeke felt no guilt, no need to wonder, no
baggage to hold on to. It was the very first fully guilt-free and
conscience-free orgasm of his life; and he just deposited the fruit of that
explosion deep inside another boy's ass.

His smile was so big that even Mark forgot he didn't care much for being
fucked.

"Wanna go again?"  Mark asked smiling, though he was really just
half-kidding, based on the fact that it was obvious how much the boy had
enjoyed fucking him.

But Zeke wasn't seeing it as a half-joke, just an amazing opportunity. He
was like a kid that had just been asked if he wanted to ride the freaking
amazing roller coaster again, but without waiting in line.

"Seriously?? YEAH!!! Mark you're . . . . you're fucking amazing!! No pun
intended. Well . . . . OK, definitely intended."

Both boys smiled at that, and Zeke, his mind still engaged in
commitment-less play, reeling in the hope that his boyhood wouldn't be
totally bereft of the boy-on-boy fun that he was coming to see as a
suffrage, of sorts, rather than a suffering. Zeke leaned down and kissed
the boy again, though Mark still wasn't back up to the sexual interest that
made this so exciting the first time. Still, he decided that it had been,
after all, a nice thing.

Zeke slowly pulled his still hard dick out of Mark's amazing hole and
leaned down again to whisper in his ear, "Roll over on your stomach, I
wanna fuck you like a boy now."

Despite not being all that excited through the first fuck, Mark had to
admit, the hot whisper in his ear was getting him all hard and horny again,
almost like he was once again a virgin and about to experience his first
anal entry of boy dick.

A new position, a new excitement. And so he rolled over, his dick hard and
pressing into the folded over pillow that Zeke had placed under him. He
spread his legs for the boy, his breath catching absurdly, as if this were
suddenly all new to him and he didn't know what was coming next. He
couldn't explain it, but somehow it really did feel new and different; and
he was unexpectedly quite excited about it.

His body even tensed slightly as he felt the bed shift and felt more motion
between his legs and a cool air blow lazily across his exposed and
vulnerable asshole. He even let out a bit of a gasp when he felt the warm
body of the older boy settle over him and drape him in protective cover. He
wasn't bearing the whole weight of Zeke, but enough that the whole of his
back, from head to tail, and large parts of arms and legs, could feel the
presence, connection, or touch and embrace of the boy.

His dick almost grew another half inch as he felt the slick rod of Zeke's
prick settle in his boy-groove framed by the plump rumps on either
side. Then he was enraptured more by the entirety of the experience as the
weight of the boy settled on and wobbled into the compressive spring of his
twin mounds of flesh, causing that hard dick to sink lower into the groove
and separate out his cheeks more.

Zeke held that position for a brief while, kissing the back of the boy's
neck. It began a pattern for Zeke early in his sexual life. When he was
with boy or girl, he was always able to give himself over to fully enjoying
the moment, the body of his partner, the luxurious sex of the
experience. Like a lithe panther, always the predator when connected to the
hunt. The quarry didn't matter, only the moment, only the sensory input,
only the concentration, the oneness with his actions and their
rewards. Being with Mark, not just this first time, but the many times
afterward, taught him how to banish other realities, other people, other
times, and above all how to make love or have sex, because the two were
decidedly different, without guilt.

It was different with Mark than Nate. With Nate there was an underside of
love that bothered Zeke. It didn't bother him in the way that he didn't
like it, but with Mark, though he felt a strong like and appreciation of
the boy, his zeal for the sex and his love for Mark's body and the gift of
that body was smoother; it flowed naturally without hindrance. There was
nothing there that disturbed him, that got under his skin, that confused
his thoughts, attractions, or desires. With Mark, he first developed the
ability to immerse himself in sexual attraction and fulfillment and walk
away with no confusion of his emotions.

Mark, though, was still coming into the idea of what sex and boundaries
were. He wasn't totally comfortable with the kisses on the back of his
neck, the nibbles on his ear, but something told him it was OK, that it was
something down the road he might actually like. As it was, it made Mark
feel like something of a girl, and there was definitely no part of him that
really felt like that. But this was Zeke, and for this moment, Zeke could
do what he wanted.

And Zeke did.

The boy nuzzled into the darker hair and let out a sigh as he pulled his
hips back and drug his dick backward through the asscrack and then slowly
drove it forward again, easily finding his mark and slipping smoothly into
the waiting asshole, guiding his sensitive hardon down the tight path of
the recently trained glove of Mark's anal canal. He bottomed out with the
slightest push and grunt, right into Mark's ear, pushing those rumps up
with his upthrust, the tension of which surprised Mark that, along with a
noticeable tug on his anal wall, it gave his enjoyment a sharpened edge,
and he felt a boost run along his hard dick as it rocked into the pillow.

"Fuck!"  Came a prolonged groan, throaty and sounding almost like a low
reverb directly in Mark's right ear, "I am so gonna love fucking you all
summer!"

Mark closed his eyes when he heard this, and again the long dick pulled out
and smoothly re-entered, almost without pause. Even though he wasn't as
into being fucked as he had kinda hoped he might -- since after all he was
going to demand it before seeking what he really wanted -- he still
smiled. This was going to be a good summer after all. And he surprised
himself further -- he was grunting into the mattress with each inward fuck
that caused Zeke to decry blessed names in his ears.

Zeke kept twisting and rocking his hips, pumping the tight asshole beneath
him with a full three inches of in and out shaft, smoothly going in and
out, such that there was no hesitation. The rhythm was varied to be sure,
always throwing off the boy below him, the boy he was dominating and
conquering, but willingly on both parts, and the rhythm seemed to match his
intensity in sucking, kissing, nibbling, and breathing into the back of the
boy. One hand had even found its way underneath the boy and was exciting
the nipple that had lacked and been left out of the previous vigorous
attack. It all left Mark twisting into his hands and body, grinding back
with his buttocks even as the older boy was pistoning between them.

"Ah Fuck!!!" Mark moaned into his sheets, as he started to feel his own
climax starting despite his denial of interest in being fucked. And in
addition to that, he couldn't help himself but convulse under the boys
ministrations and push back into the fucking like he was needing it more
and more.

Zeke meanwhile was rejoicing in the continual slide in and out, feeling all
the amazing sensations of muscle down muscle, the glove and the squeeze,
the plunging against a resistance that was drawing him deeper, until his
continual thrusts became faster and shorter, and then shorter and slower,
until he was slamming the poor smaller boy's ass hard in pronounced urgent
need with each full burial, used his toes for leverage against the sheets
and the bed beneath to push more of himself deeper within and push more of
the boy deeper down, causing Mark's penis to pull against the pillow.

Neither boy could take anymore and with might grunts each, their whole
bodies tensed and each unloaded a full chorus of sperm and semen, one into
a pillow and across his chest and one into the deep bowels that pushed back
almost as hard as he was pushing the both of them deeper into the
bed. Finally, pulse after pulse of life wrenching orgasm, flow through each
to each and obliterating any real understanding of now versus forever, each
wavering to a lesser ejaculating aftershock until both boys, drenched in
the sheen of ardent lovemaking collapsed into a heap of entwined boyflesh,
one still atop and still buried within the other.

Eventually both boys were catching their breaths. Zeke had enough energy,
barely, and presence of mind to lift himself up onto to his elbows, taking
his weight off the boy's back. He pulled his dick free and nestled it again
into the crack, and then resettled his lower weight onto those spongy,
giving rumps of Marks.

"Mmmm," Mark sighed, resting his head on his sheets, "I like the way this
feels."

"You don't think it's weird do you?"

That made Mark tense up a bit.  "Uh, nooo . . . um, why? Maybe
. . . . should I?"

Zeke had to think about that for a second.  "No, I hope not. It's just
that, well, Mark, this is all I really want. I maybe should made sure we
were both clear on that before, but I got a bit horny and carried away."

Despite his concern, Mark had to laugh.  "A bit."

Zeke smiled, but continued, "I just mean to say, well, I loved the sex. It
was totally awesome, and I loved really getting into it with you, and I
want to do it all over with you again sometime . . . . soon, even
. . . . but . . . ."

"You just only want me for sex?"

"No Mark! I mean, I want to be friends, too. You're actually way cooler
than Randy ever was. Even without the sex. Well, definitely without the
sex. But I also want the sex. I just . . . . . I won't ever feel anything
more toward you, no matter what we do. I mean, with Nate, I think if I were
gay, me and him could be boyfriends, and I'd even be jealous when he did
stuff with other guys. But I'm not; I mean, I probably like girls better
than guys, but I can't really get to none just yet. But Nate's still
different. I feel . . . . something . . . . but it's not something, I don't
think, that can last, so I'm not really sure where that will go, even
though I still want it to `go' for at least a little while."

"Nate? Is that that blond kid that was at your house yesterday?"

"Oops. Oh yeah, I guess nobody else knows about that. But, yeah, we're
. . . . . doing it."

"Like us?"

"Nahh. Different. Something, I don't know what, feels . . . . . more
. . . . . with Nate."

Mark turned around to be on his back again, though still underneath
(inwardly sighing when he felt Zeke lower his crotch onto his) so that he
could look up into the boy's eyes as they talked.

"Isn't he gonna be mad that you're here?"

"Nate? Nahh; well, he'll be mad that he didn't get to watch, or
something. Or that I got to suck you off and he didn't."  Zeke said with a
smile, "You know, you really do taste good."

"Yeah, you said that," Mark said, trying not to blush.

"Did I mention I liked how your dick felt in my mouth?"  Zeke said with a
smile, deliberately teasing the boy, and amazingly still horny after
blowing two hard and heavy loads into the virgin ass.

Mark blushed further and couldn't bring himself to look into the green
eyes, hard as greyed marble and just as cool. Instead he distracted himself
by drawing his leg up along Zeke's outer leg, bending his knee, bringing it
over so that he was once again wrapping his leg around the boy. He was
still feeling pretty horny himself. He reached up and began playing with
one of Zeke's nipples, eliciting a quiet and unanticipated groan from the
boy, feeling his worn out dick rehardening between them.

"I liked it when you did this to me."

Zeke wanted to say something, but he was losing the conversation flow and
just grunted, "oh fuck!"  as he began to grind his dick into Mark's.

"So what you're saying," Mark started, needing to get clarification, "Is
you want it both, just to be friends, and just to have lots of sex. But
nothing weird and in-between?"

Zeke knew full well that to ask to have something both ways was to get a
lecture back on having to have to choose. It was a lecture most adolescents
heard frequently; and when they pursued both at the same time anyway, they
usually got neither and a lot of screw-up in between. But he had hope when
he saw Mark smile, and even more when Mark simply said:

"Awesome!"

"That's cool with you?"

"Yeah!! Zeke, all I ever wanted was for us to be friends; but you were
always with Randy. And he was already bein' a prick at home for a couple
years before he went crazy. So I couldn't ever get to be friends with
you. It's what I want most, though."

"OK. I could be friends with you, Mark. Even before we did this stuff, I
always thought you were real cool. It was Randy that never wanted to
include you. I guess I just went along with it."

"But what about, you know, all the sex?"

"I never wanted that."

"I didn't mean Randy."  The boy said shyly, fighting the blush coming on.

"Oh, yeah, with you; I definitely want that. What about you?"

Mark hesitated in answering. He brought his hands up from above his head
and caressed down Zeke's soft sides, closing his eyes and breathing in deep
as he felt across the broad, strong back of the boy holding him. He felt a
surge of lust and fulfillment run through his penis as he opened his eyes
and slid first one hand down and over that luxurious ass, feeling the cool
heat and topography of the mounts descending into the valley he had
desperately dreamed of visiting.

"I . . . ."  Mark faltered briefly, and brought his second hand down and
grasped both cheeks. He about nearly passed out from the joy of finally
having his hands on and grasping the treasure.

"Damn, Mark," Zeke dipped his head down beside Mark's and moaned in his
ear, "That feels so good."

Zeke was definitely still horny. He didn't know where his reserves were
coming from, but he was still ready to go at it.

Mark blushed, despite the fact Zeke couldn't see his face right now, and
started again to admit his `guilt': "For the last week, all I've actually
thought about was this. When I would . . . . . when I would . . . . jerk
off . . . . and even when I wasn't, all I wanted was this."

He squeezed the ass for emphasis, indicating it was those two buns to which
he was referring. He got an approving low moan from Zeke who was gently
rocking his pelvis into the boy, getting both their captured penises all
slippery.

"Actually," Mark corrected, with a rough and cracking voice, "What I've
really wanted was this."

And Mark grasped a buttcheek in his right hand -- it seemed to fit
perfectly and just call for his hands -- and he pulled it to one side. He
slipped his left hand into the opening he made into the hidden but still
tantalizing crevice. He ran the tip of his middle finger along the floor of
the crack, until he came to a moist wrinkled muscle. He tugged on one side
of that muscle and dipped in slightly and ran the tip of his finger firmly
against and around the whole of the ring of muscle, like you would on the
edge of a glass to make it hum.

"THIS is what I wanted."

And it worked on about the same principle as a fine piece of crystal, as he
soon had Zeke purring like a happy and content kitty cat. Mark picked up on
the analogy of that and smiled and whispered in the boy's ear, like he
would to a pet, all the while circling that hole and dipping just slightly
deeper: "Niiiiice pussy."

Zeke couldn't help but smile; he also could barely stop from moaning. But
damn, he was turned on and feeling horny; his mind bridged an erotic
connection that he hadn't even known was there. All the time that Zeke was
being abused, by Ian, by Randy, even once by Connor -- though that boy
didn't fully realize it was abuse at the time -- he felt betrayed by his
body. On the one hand he hated being turned over and used at the whim of
those boys, and on the other hand, though he could scarcely admit it, there
was something of a turn-on about it. And of course, the physical pleasure
of actually getting fucked just made it worse.

But now his subconscious recognized a way out for that need, even if Zeke
didn't put the two together. He could safely, and without the degradation,
have some of that back with Mark, if the boy was willing. And as far as the
fucking would itself feel, Mark's dick looked as big as Randy's and was
definitely bigger than Nate's and something about it told Zeke he could
easily get hard with that dick pumping his naughty behind. But how to get
Mark to go for it?

Easy.

"I'll make a deal with you, Mark," Zeke pulled his head back up so he could
look straight into the boy's eyes.  "And if you don't agree to the deal,
then you can't ever fuck me, and I won't ever suck you again either, ever."

Mark gulped. It was a twist horrifying to hear. What if he couldn't agree
to the deal?

"And you can't make any changes or requests or nothing after I tell it to
you. OK?"

Mark nodded. Scared, but needing to hear this deal anyway.

"I'm gonna let you fuck me; I'm gonna let you push your dick up that hole
you want so bad, and if it's `OK' or if, like you, it's somewhere better
than OK or I can do it no prob, then we'll trade fucks whenever we get
horny."

"OK," Mark smiled. He could agree to that. He wasn't fully hot for the idea
of getting fucked all summer, into the school year, til
. . . . whenever. But if that got him Zeke's ass, he was gung ho for
it. But then he had a thought and frowned.  "What if you hate it, though?"

"Well, I still wanna fuck you, so I guess I'll just put up with it. The
price to pay for burying my dick in your sweet ass from time to time."

Mark could live with that.  "OK, deal."

"Not finished. When it's my turn to have fun Mark, I don't just want to
fuck you, I want to kiss you, feel you, play with your tits, suck you,
anything I want to do. You cool with that?"

To give him an answer, Mark reached up and pulled his head down toward his
lips and kissed him. Mark didn't have the same drive for it that Zeke did,
and it showed. It was much more of a mechanical kiss. They shared tongues,
but it was all physics and no exorbitant passion. But when Zeke kissed
back, he turned it on full mode and flipped the switch in Mark such that
the boy was right there with him. Eventually after a full minute they
separated, panting slightly again.

"Yeah, OK," Mark said, smiling between catching breaths, "I can live with
that."

"Wait," Zeke said, catching his own breath.  "There's more. Most important
part. Don't agree to it. Then no sex."

Mark grimaced and braced himself.

"If," Zeke started, "When you push your dick in me, it turns me on from
moment one, I mean you start fucking me and I go bananas over it,
. . . . . . ."

Mark smiled; he hoped he could do that to Zeke. It would make his life, so
far as it was.

But Zeke wasn't done: "If you do that, then you have to own it. Don't give
me any shit about you aren't your brother. I know you aren't. He was a jerk
and I don't ever want to see him again. He took advantage of me. I'm asking
you to do something for me. If it drives me wild, then I like it. And if I
like it, and I don't know why on earth I'm doing this, except that
something really feels right about it, then you will own it."

"What does that mean?"  Mark asked cautiously.

"It means, that whenever you wanna fuck, you just bend me over and do
it. You don't have to ask, don't have to wonder, if there's nobody around
and you're hard then you just get it ready and stick it in. If you don't
feel like getting fucked, then you don't, but I won't have a say."

Zeke put a hand over Mark's mouth to stop the protest that he saw was
coming.

"I know it sounds really weird, and I can't explain why, but I really wanna
do this. Let's say . . . . until December. After Christmas we'll make a new
deal then. But until then, that's the deal, and I expect you to go for it
and use it. And absolutely no take-backs on the deal, not from you, not
from me."

"But you would never be able to say no."

"And you won't be allowed to consider that I might not want to. Please,
Mark, it's freaky and probably totally queer, but I just wanna try it. And
I trust you."

Part of it was definitely just pure from-the-moment sex driven lust, and
part of it was, though they didn't realize it, establishing a trust
covenant for sex play between buddies, somewhat like master and slave
fetishes in adults. They didn't, of course, recognize or understand the
relationship to that; but all the same, the arrangement was all about
establishing trust, which of course fed back into sex play to make it all
the more exciting, refreshing, and enjoyable. It was what put -- despite
any identical motions and actualities -- rape and play on completely
separate ends of the spectrum. It was what enabled Zeke to inherently
understand, and Mark to later realize, that despite their doing the same
things to Zeke, Mark and Randy were nothing alike, never would be nothing
alike, and their experiences would be not be the same. Not for Zeke either.

"Well," Mark said as he slid his hands down and felt that tempting ass
again.

"You agree?"  asked Zeke, feeling oddly both hopeful that the boy would
agree and hoping that he would say no and they both could breathe easier
and go back to being regular boys. But it was that edge that made it seem
like such a daring and exciting prospect, as indeed it was.

"You still have to fuck me from time to time."

"Oh, hell yeah. I'm already gonna be doing that. Even if you don't agree,"
Zeke said with a real mischievous smile -- and one that showed he meant
exactly what he said -- "and you don't get to fuck me, you already agreed I
could fuck you all summer. And I'm gonna. But if you agree, there's no
going back."

Mark squeezed that ass again, like weighing his options. Damn, he wanted
that ass so bad. If he could have he would have thumped those melons to see
if they were ripe enough to warrant this deal. But he already knew they
were.

Mark smiled and made up his mind.  "All right, I agree."

"Sweet."  Something like the strangest mixture of fear, lust and
satisfaction flashed through Zeke at the realization that he was sealed to
the deal he made. Of course, there was always the chance he wouldn't really
like it. But he was figuring already that that was an outside chance at
best.

"And when I shove my dick up your ass," Mark smiled, buying completely into
the game, "I really do hope I drive you fucking bananas."

Whoa, where did Mark come up with that attitude? (Answer: years of
repression by the older Randy and more than a few peeks through Jamie
Douglas' dad's Hustler Letters magazines). Zeke didn't know why, but he
liked the confidence behind the smile and the playful agreement in this
new, perhaps twisted, chapter of the boys' lives. What they were about to
embark on was a change for both of them that lead to a greater sexual
freedom, while at the same time a grounding in a solid friendship, with
pure nonsexual elements. It was like going through middle school, high
school, and life with an eyebrow raising, and sometimes harrowing,
agendaless agenda, but always having someone at your back, whether felt or
unseen, and at the same time, an ever-willing partner in fun.

It was like a bootycall without the depressing or sordid downstream
details.

But for now, they would begin this with Zeke finding himself on his hands
and knees on Mark's Queen size bed (which in later years would prove to be
the perfect size for teen threesomes). Zeke felt a bit nervous at this
point. After months of being tricked and raped into the subservient bottom
position, he was finding, with Nate Carlin, that he could have a great sex
life with a boy while being the predominant top. It had fit in well with
the more heterosexual and masculine urges he felt during his alone times.

It wasn't compensation. It wasn't what a lazy and self-centered
psychologist (yes, Zeke would be forced to visit one of those in a couple
of years by concerned school and parental figures) would refer to as a
reaction formation, and overcompensation for shame over homosexual
impulses. He truly did love girls and was naturally masculine. He just had
co-existing sex lust for the male body. It would, actually, fade some over
time, and he had thought that time was drawing near. But now he wondered if
that were so, having deliberately given up his ass for the use of another
boy.

He was realizing, now, that it had been a lust-tainted impulsive decision
that ought to be reconsidered, except on his honor, he didn't think he
could. Plus there was the fact that he was as hard as a rock. He may be
scared of the consequences of what he had done, but he was still hard. He
may have been coming into his own as the dominant Zeke again, but he did
like this aspect of Mark coming out.

It was all immaterial, though, as he waited on his hands and knees
uncomplaining, naked and open for use, when he felt Mark's hand on his back
and the greased knob of the boy's big cock spread his cheeks and snuggle up
to his muscular back door. Zeke could hear that Mark was already breathing
hard as he looked down to see that -- finally!! -- his hard prick was
really at the backdoor of the great Ezekiel Prosper. The sight of his erect
readiness poised in the junction of those beautiful curves was exhilarating
as an understatement; and he was plenty ready to drive forward and claim
salvation from his tortured fantasies, bringing himself, almost
miraculously, through to reality.

Any thoughts of equal standing in the deal they had made were out the
window when Zeke felt Mark push forward with a steady pressure that now
opened up and expanded his hole until it tried to come together around the
edge of the helmet, but, lo, was held open by the thick shaft to follow. It
was both the opening of his hole and a NEED for the thick shaft to follow,
to keep moving, to keep sliding across and pulling that ring of anal muscle
inward on the noticeable and thrilling tug, to keep pushing deeper into his
rectum, to lodge itself within his bowels and ultimate begin to pump him
into a third ecstasy.

Of course, the nervousness, questions, and fears he had had right before
Mark started entering him only seemed to amplify the pleasure that was
itself seemingly on a positive playback loop. But from the very first
moment, both boys knew that Zeke was lost on the whole of the deal:

"FFFUUCCKKNNggahhhwwoohhShshshit . . .NO! DON'T STOP!! . . . . . Go!
. . .FUCK!!"

He was surprised and amazed, wondering why this was feeling so good, not
just at his hole, not just inside it, but from his balls welling upward,
from the tip of his free, bouncing, hard dick rushing downward, from his
tits crying out for their share, from his brain on overload, and some
distant social and undefined other need for it to be so, not just in this
moment, but from this boy; it all gushed, swirled, and became him that if
his last day on earth was today, as far as he was concerned it could end
with this fuck.

Mark's dick felt literally, allegorically, and symphonically fucking
incredible.

And Mark was having an unbelievable time as well. The sights, the sounds,
the knowledge of fucking Zeke Prosper's ass were each, alone, enough to
amplify regular sexual feelings to an early cum, but the actual sensation,
the actual feel of his dick sliding into ass, into a tight and barely
accommodating hole, it was too much, it was way way way too much for a
not-even-12-yet year old who had just discovered regular jacking last year
and only had hairs for that year, it was too much to hold on.

It was a desperate fight within the boy, a war really, that raged in his
mind, that fueled his eager penis, his nuts struggling to make
ammunition. It was a war to maintain control, to be the battlefield trying
to contain the rush of invaders needing to get to the Grail of Orgasm and
the defenders desperately needing more time with it. It was a losing
battle, ultimately, but Mark was wearing himself out with it, all the while
pumping Zeke's bottom and losing power in the thrusts that would very soon
take him to his death throes.

"Unnohh . . .a little longer Mark . . . just . . .nngghhoaahh
. . . nnnngggnn . . . . . just . . . . mnmmmnngg . . . . . little more
. . . . . . almost theraagghh . . . nngahh. . . .NNGAAHH
. . . . .AANNGGAAOOHH . . . . .  .AHHHH . . . . . ."

It was Zeke's loudest cum yet as he fired shot after shot after shot of
semen from his over-worked and over-stimulated prostate, firing up like
from a cannon out of that aimless highcaliber gun barrel that was just
spraying Mark's sheets with his load. His anal ring and, indeed, the whole
of that canal began reflexively squeezing down harder on that loosening
invader. Mark summoned up, by pleads, begs, and the last of sheer will, all
the energy he had to grasp those hips tight (and thus reinforcing the
subjection in Zeke's psyche's undercurrents that were feeding the hysteria
in his orgasm) and slammed that ass with several sure and almost violent
thrusts to send his own seemingly endless volleys deep into Zeke's darkest
and warmest recesses, as though through great will and exertion Mark could
leave a piece of himself forever in Zeke's depths.

Zeke was the first to collapse, first onto his shoulders, and then feeling
the weight of Mark coming down as well, he collapsed wholly into the boy's
bed, with Mark landing exhausted on top. The fall only partially dislodged
the dick that held his ass open, the still slimy and hiccoughing head
taking a few moments longer to be squeezed out, despite any resistance
Mark's dick wanted to put up.

It took a while, a much longer while than the last two times for either to
speak. Finally Mark rolled off the boy and stared up at his ceiling,
feeling a bit starved, but too worn out to eat.

"Wow," Mark finally said, still staring up at the ceiling, "We're
definitely gonna be doing that again."

Zeke laughed, or at least he tried to. He was pretty sure at this point
that Mark would be doing THAT a lot more than just `again'. But then, he
took some small comfort in knowing he was right about Mark being nothing
like Randy, and the fact that it was spectacularly awesome, even if it did
challenge his recently developing notions of masculinity and control of
destiny.

Then as they lay there conserving the remaining energy they had for, say,
breathing and keeping their hearts beating, Zeke came to another
realization. He realized why his subconscious had let this whole thing with
Mark develop. Despite how much he may like girls, and despite what his
future held with them, he definitely had a thing for the male body. And he
found it a bit more than pleasing to make out with a boy. He could always
have that with Mark, and he would never have to worry about it. Because
they were friends, and that was something that would keep going.

As he grew out of the sex with boys, he would still be friends with
Mark. And as he stayed friends with Mark, he would have that safe access to
unfettered fun with another boy, until such time, if ever, he no longer
felt so inclined.

But last night, when he told Nate he loved him, he had meant it. And that
was what had bothered him all morning. It would fade. It wouldn't last, and
beside the sex that they mutually enjoyed, it wasn't very fair to
Nathan. But what was he to do? He couldn't give up on the boy. He really
did love him.

The boys stayed lost in their thoughts for a few moments more, but it is
truly amazing where humans can recover energy when they are at their lowest
reserves. All it takes is the right spark:

"Mark, honey?  Are you upstairs? Come help your dad and me bring in some
groceries!"

"Shit!"  Mark exclaimed quietly, as both boys bounded out of bed rapidly.
"I forgot my dad took the day off to talk to your parents and take care of
some paperwork on Randy!"

"What?? My parents talked to your dad!!"

"And my mom. I meant to tell you. I overheard some stuff."

"What??"

"Mark, sweetie?"

"Hold on, or she'll come up stairs.  . . . . Mom! I was just about to get a
shower!"

"Well, come help us out first."

"But I'm already naked!"

"Well, pull some shorts on and come out and help. You can't hang around
inside all day playing video games."

Her voice was getting closer.

"Shit! She's coming up the stairs," Mark said in a whisper to Zeke. Then he
took a deep breath and came to a terrible decision. He cupped a hand over
his dick and nuts and stepped outside, walking awkwardly toward the stairs
that his mother was already almost up. Zeke could hear them while hiding
behind the door.

"C'mon, mom. I've been outside and I'm tired and I stink. I just wanna get
a shower. What are you staring at?"

"Nothing, son. I just haven't seen you this . . . undressed . . . . in
awhile. You're growing up. You know, you can't use just one hand to cover
up anymore."

Zeke didn't have to hear to know Mark was turning about five different
shades of red.

"Don't be embarrassed, Mark. You're turning out quite handsome."

"Aww, mom. Can I just get a shower now?"

"Go ahead."

There was a pause where Zeke couldn't hear anything else being said. Then
he heard Mark's voice:

"Aren't you gonna go back downstairs?"  he asked his mom.

"Well, maybe I'm waiting to see if that butt is as cute as the rest of
you."

Mark gave a wry smile and began backing up, keeping both his hands over his
groin as he did so, saying, "Yeah . . . I don't think so."

He made it back to his door and shut it, hearing his mom call out as she
went back downstairs, "Don't be long! I'm going to have you help me get
supper ready!"

"Dude, it's your mom, why do you care if she sees your butt?"  Zeke said
laughing at him.

"I don't! At least I never did! But I didn't want her to see it with
Vaseline all over it, like somebody fucked me . . . twice!"

"Oh, yeah. Good call."

Mark took a quick shower after despairing over how he would have to sneak
his sheets down and wash them as well. When he got out, he cursed himself
for forgetting to get his clean clothes out of the den where his mom had
folded them. He had no underwear.  He wrapped a towel around himself and
snuck Zeke downstairs. They made it all the way to the door and with Zeke
part way out of it saying goodbye, when Mr. West came around the corner.

"Zeke! What brings you by? I didn't hear the doorbell ring."

"You didn't?"  both boys asked at once, scared about what they could come
up with as an excuse.

"Well, I must be getting old. Mark you can't go answering doors like that!
Get dressed."

"All my clothes were in the den."

"Well, go put some on. Come on in Zeke."

"Oh, uh, no that's OK, Mr.West. I, uh, I've been outside all day and I
really stink. I just gotta ask Mark something. I'll wait outside."

Before Mr. West could object, Zeke shut the door himself and walked out to
the street and sat on the curb. Mark ran into the den to put on some
underwear and shorts. Mr. West came around the corner just as his son was
struggling quickly into a pair of boxers. He had a very nice, rounded ass,
that was for sure, but when his son turned askance so that Mr. West saw
more of a profile of him, he was more impressed.

"Would you and mom quit staring at me when I'm naked," the boy asked as he
pulled up his boxers and got all of his equipment inside.

"Well excuse us for being amazed at how quickly our own little boy is
growing up. You're starting to look more like 12, or a young 13, than 11."

"I am almost 1,2 dad," Mark said as he pulled on some shorts.  "This good
enough to just go to the curb?"

"Of course. Don't get smart. And don't be long outside. Be sure to tell
Zeke he's welcome to come over anytime. You know, he's a good kid. It
wouldn't hurt you to have him as a friend. You aren't that far apart in
age."

"Yeah, maybe dad. I'll see if he wants to come over some time. Maybe spend
the night."

"You do that."

Well, that was easy, Mark thought as he headed to the curb to fill Zeke
in. There was a lot more to tell the boy besides. His parents had come over
that morning, and Mark had listened in on the four adults and passed it on
to Zeke. Obviously the Prospers were very upset about what had happened to
their son, and just as surprised that it had been Randy that had done
it. To be certain, they didn't blame the Wests for exactly what happened,
though they were very disappointed to hear his brother allowed it to
happen. What they were most angry about, however, was that they had not
been told.

For their part, the Wests apologized profusely for their son's aggressions,
for which there could be no excuses, except to say that they had had no
indication that this could be going on. They also wanted to stress that
Mark himself had no idea of exactly what was happening, until just before
he told his dad and showed him the evidence. Mr. West also wanted to make
sure they knew that his nephew Todd had also been mislead by Randy and felt
duly sorry for his part in what had been done to Ezekiel. Chad, apparently
figured it out on the day when Andrew West got too drunk to properly
oversee the children, and he was punished severely for using the newfound
knowledge to his advantage instead of telling his dad or uncle, like Mark
had.

As to not informing them, Jackson West had struggled with this, he assured
them. He genuinely felt that he would certainly want to know, regardless
from whom, but even then he would rather find out from his son on his own,
provided he was safe and out of trouble.

"He said he made sure you were safe and out of trouble," Mark continued,
"and that he encouraged you to talk to your parents soon, that things
overall would be better if you did. But he said he also didn't feel right
just making that decision for you. Todd told him about going over to your
house and that he told your mom that Randy was using drugs; so that's the
story he went with -- not to protect Randy, but you. Thing is, it still
bothered him and my mom a lot that he hadn't told your parents anything."

And the longer it went on, the more he agonized over it. Jackson had
planned to follow-up with Zeke yesterday and press him to come forward with
it, but that he didn't want to ask Zeke over while Todd was still around,
so he was going to wait until tomorrow afternoon, when his wife took Todd
over to his sister's house, where Chad was now staying.

"Hey, so where is Todd?"  Zeke interrupted.

"I think he left out when you came over. He'll be back soon."

"He's avoiding me?"

"He feels real guilty. Todd's not bad, you know. He's kinda cool."

"So, I should . . . . what?"

"Nothing, Zeke, just saying he's not bad. But he feels it. I hated him for
what he did, until I found out how he tore into Randy. You know he knocked
a tooth out?"

"He hit him that hard?"

"He didn't just hit him once, Zeke. I think he was gonna take him apart,
like, for real."

"Good."  Zeke said, and most of him wished that Todd had taken him apart.

Mark didn't look so sure.

"Come on Mark, I know he's your brother, but he deserved being taken
apart. Now he's at one of those rehab ranches you see on TV sometimes where
rich kids go and they never learn anything. Why should I feel sorry for
him?"

"He wasn't at a rehab ranch, that's my Uncle Andy. Randy was at a treatment
center. But you may be right; it might not have done him any good."

"Wait . . . . `was'? He `was' at the treatment center? He's already out??"

"Um, not exactly. Your parents weren't too happy this morning about the
treatment center either. They had the same opinion you did."

"Yeah, well . . . we watch the same television. So what happened?"

"Your parents told my parents that they would press charges against Randy,
unless dad put him into the court himself. My parents didn't really want
to, but in the end they agreed they would call a judge they knew and enter
a, um, no-contest, which I think is somewhere between guilty and
innocent. Basically he goes straight to jail, well, kids jail, you know,
juvenile detention, probably this afternoon; and you don't have to testify
and my dad doesn't get in trouble for not reporting it and for destroying
the evidence."

"For destroying the evidence?"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. Dad let me burn the stuff in the fireplace. All the
polaroids, we know it was all cause of how many were left in the camera,
and both the movies."

"Both?"

"Yep," Mark said with a smile, "I found both of them. It always was hard
for Randy to hide stuff from me."

"Well, he must have gotten better. There were three."

Mark's face fell.  "No, that's not possible. Dad beat him again with that
belt after you left and all he would say was that he only had two, and he
was crying too much to lie that good. And he didn't know how many I
found. Dad said he was gonna keep beating him until he told the truth, but
all he admitted to was two."

"No, he said all he had was two."

"You mean . . . ."

"Yeah, someone else has the third tape."

"I'll tell my dad," Mark said.

"No, don't. Just wait a few more days, OK. Let me think about this."

"I'll give you until I go inside, and then I'm telling my dad."

"Mark . . . ."

"You don't learn very well, do you?"

Zeke laughed. He was being reprimanded by a kid a full grade below him; but
then, Mark always was more mature for his age, and not just physically.

"All right, fine. You going to tell him about us, too?"

Mark thought about it for a second. He could see Zeke's logic.

"You're right."  Mark admitted, sounding a bit defeated.

"Good, so just wait a few days . . . ."

"No, I mean you're right. I should tell him about us."

"Mark!"

"Not everything, not details, or the deal we made, or stuff like that. But
this is what happened the last time. This is how you got in trouble, and I
won't let that happen again. Ever. So, I'm telling him. And my mom. No,
maybe just my dad."

Zeke sighed. The boy was right. And he really was looking out for him.
"Mark, I don't know if I deserve a friend like you."

"I don't know about that."  Mark replied, "I don't have much to offer
except hang out and play games or sports or something and not be weird
about the sex, except that when you want to do it I'll be up for it. But I
would still like to be your friend."

"Are you kidding? That's like the best thing I could ever ask for in a
friend! You're like the best friend I could possibly have!"

"Really?"  Mark against, silently cursing himself for blushing and being
suddenly unable to look Zeke in the eye.  "So . . . . we could be, like
. . . . best friends?"

Zeke stared off in the distance for a moment, like he was thinking; and he
was. Best friends? That didn't work out so well the last time. And Mark was
a whole grade below him. But only like half a year younger. He was all in
all pretty cool.

"Yeah, why not?"

"Cool."  Mark was floored. This was better than he had hoped.

"I still get to fuck you all summer, right?"  Zeke asked, smiling.

Mark smiled and shook his head. He knew the boy was really joking, though.

"Yeah," he said finally, "I guess so. Sure, why not?"

"Sweet!"

Both boys laughed, each feeling some relief at not having to deal with
awkward moments.

"So," Mark started up, "What you said about me never having to have to jerk
off again, I can hold you to that?"

"Ah, shit."  Zeke said it with resignation, but a smile.  "Guess I stuck my
foot in on that one."

"Well, I wouldn't say you have a whole foot," Mark joked, "just maybe felt
like one."

They laughed some more, feeling a lot of tension release into the air,
enough so that Ezekiel could make a commitment without feeling anxiety,
without feeling weird about it, and all in all feeling like it was no big
deal.

"Seriously, Mark, if we're gonna be best friends and use each other for sex
. . . I mean . . . I'm GONNA fuck you, OK? I am, and . . . . . a lot, the
rest of this summer. And I meant everything I said about wanting you to
feel like you can ask or just do what you need to with me whenever you
want. Cause . . . . well, you're just gonna have to accept that you aren't
your brother. And I know you really wanna fuck me, and I know how bad you
want it, and maybe it would have weirded me out last week, maybe even
yesterday, but, seriously, today, it's all cool. I get it. I understand,
and it doesn't bother me."

Mark just nodded and said OK.

Zeke was right about one thing, he would have to get over his pathetic
brother and move on and accept that they were nothing alike after all. And
he for sure figured he would like having Zeke at his sexual disposal. And
as long as Zeke fucked him, too, then it was all fair and cool. It was
weird and it was kinky, but he had to admit it was also pretty hot. Mark
took a deep breath, like he was breathing fresh life. He could do this. It
was going to be OK to want to do this.

"You're right. You're right, Zeke. This is gonna be awesome. I'll do it."

"All right. We have an understanding, then."

"One thing, though, what about your friend, the blond kid?"

"Nate? I told you, he doesn't care about fucks. That's just sex fun between
us. It would only hurt him if he thought I was replacing him with you, and
I couldn't do that. I don't feel about you the way I do about him;
although, those feelings are . . . . . complicated . . . . . and
. . . . . . well, I'm not sure how the future of that will go in a year or
two."

"Or?"

"What do you mean `or'?"

"It sounds and looks like there's an `or' there."

Zeke nodded. He had a darker expression of sadness and . . . . . something
else, something he just couldn't put his finger on.

"Or . . . . . if it will even last past the summer."

"Oh."

"I love him; I do. But . . . . . . I don't . . . . . I'm not
. . . . . . I'm not so sure I know what that is. But . . . . . at any rate,
he definitely won't care about the sex. He may want me to tell him all
about it, but that's it. Besides, there's a guy in Indian Spring he still
sees that supposedly fucks better than me and tastes better than me, so he
won't have much room to cry over it."

"What about us being . . . . friends?"

"Best friends, remember? Nate has a best friend already; never shuts up
about him. Kelley Tucker."

"I know who he is! Dude, he's got the nicest . . . . . . . . . . . um
. . . . . I mean, I've heard he's cool."

"Ah, geez, not you, too? Go ahead, I've heard it before. And you're right,
it's nice."

Mark couldn't contain himself anymore, "Nice? Nice? It's not just
nice. It's BEAST. Zeke, that guy's got like the nicest butt on creation,
even though I've only seen it at school. I wish I could see what he looks
like without clothes on."

"I've seen him with a wet bathing suit."

"Shut up, serious? He's like my dream fuck, except that he'd kick my ass
into like, next week, two years later, if I even thought it around him."

"I doubt it; his best friend's gay, after all; even though he's probably
not even remotely into guys. So you're out of luck there, but still
. . . . . your dream fuck?? Mark, when did you become so . . . . . dirty?"
Zeke asked with a smile.

Mark blushed and shrugged.  "I've just been quiet is all. I've always kinda
liked guy's butts. It's just only the last few months I knew what I could
do to them. Just never dreamed I'd get the chance."

"So who else's butt do you like?"

"Well, yours, of course . . . . ."

"Hmmm, too safe answer. Whose do you like more than mine?"

"Well, the second best butt in the whole world, and at first I could never
tell which one is better, but the second best is also from Indian Spring, I
think. He's in your grade and got red hair; he's real good looking too,
wears this cool necklace. I don't know if you know him, but-"

"Duncan Cormack."

"You know him?"  Mark asked, almost a bit too eagerly.

"Not really; but Nate does. That's all I can say about that."

"Oh, that's too bad. I saw him once with this older guy after school in the
spring, maybe two or three years older. All the girls were, like, batting
their eyes at him. I could see why; he's super hot, even better looking
than that Kelley kid, and that's sayin' something. He's got this look like
he knows he looks good, but he'll still be a regular guy with you if you go
up and talk. And this smile that's, like, I don't know. It shines. I don't
mean his teeth are all perfect and white, I mean they are, but that's not
why his smile shines. I think it's because the day around him is happy he's
walking through it. You should have seen him, Zeke, he's got this dark hair
with reddish tinges that just kinda, sorta, you know -- wow -- when the sun
hit's it just right, and-"

"Yes, I know, Mark. I've seen him. That's Duncan's brother, Connor
Cormack."

"Oh. I like his name. Do you, um, know him?"

"Yeah. Him . . . I know."  The sound of Zeke's voice let Mark know he
didn't want to pursue the Cormack brothers any longer. That and Zeke
changed the subject.  "So, don't worry about, Nate. He'll be cool with the
sex. It's going to be harder for me and him to have any for a while,
anyway, which is fine. Just so I still get to be with him."

"All right, well, then . . . . . . then I'll want some of those blow jobs,
too," Mark said, surprising himself with his audacity, his coming out of
his shell. He could say it and still be nothing like Randy. It felt great.
"In fact, I'm gonna want a lot of those blow jobs."

Zeke smiled. He actually liked this confident Mark. It sealed their
friendship more; he wouldn't have abided it long unless he and Mark were
equals.

"You got it, just let me know when you want the next one."

"Well, um, actually . . . . ."

"Seriously? You're already hard again?"

"Yeah. But we can't go back into my house right now and do that. So I guess
it's back to the hand for me tonight."

"Well, ummm . . . . ."  Zeke looked down toward the start of one of the
Greentrails that ran through Sweetwater.  "We could go down the trail, go
behind the first big tree we see . . . ."

"Serious?"

"Yeah, you drop your pants out there in the open, and I'll go down on you."

"All right! Let's go!!"

They were feeling risky and frisky, so close on the heels of their mutual
unfolding into what would be the cornerstone of their adolescence.
Fortunately, though, they got the risky behavior thrill out of their
systems just this once, although they never actually got around to seeing
it through:

"Ezekiel!"  They heard Mrs. West calling out the front door, "Ezekiel, your
mother called; she wants you to come on home."

"Yes, ma'am," he called back and stood and told Mark in a lower voice.  "I
guess it really is just you and your hand tonight. Come over in the
morning, Mark. My mom will be gone from 9 until 11:30. She's got this
thing. Anyway, she wants me to be up by nine. I figure you can think of a
way to get me going."

Mark just smiled. This was going to be a fun summer.  "OK, see you
tomorrow, Zeke! Just be sure you don't get out of bed til I get there."