Date: Mon, 26 Jan 1998 17:56:46 -0600
From: jocktime@hotmail.com
Subject: New Story: Dogwater's Brother


                              Dogwater's Brother
                     

                                         I

   While Mr. Mathews had four sons that he was willing to acknowledge
legally, still when anyone mentioned Dogwater's brother it was 
automatically assumed that they meant Wacker.  Though he was born
Bascombe Lane Mathews, he had been called Wacker since infancy.  Some
thought it was an indication of sexual prowess at an early age, while
others contended it meant his father would often whack him on the side
of the head for doing wild and willful things.  No one ever questioned
the fact that the name was spelled Wacker, while the word, when used,
was spelled whacker.

   Wacker Mathews at nineteen was tall, slender but strong, with a 
wiry litheness and quickness of movement that had won him many fights
and gotten him out of many jams.  Being chief driver in his father's
moonshine operations, his physical quickness was the asset his father
admired most.

   When Wacker came into town shirtless, with his faded jeans hung low
on his narrow hips, girls looked at his washboard abs and tight butt
almost as much as they looked at the deep blue eyes and the sandy,
long hair that was always falling into his face.  Rumor had it that not
a few guys looked on him with eyes of desire as well.

   The school board as well as the entire high school faculty would 
have been very surprised if they had known that Coach Hatch looked on 
Wacker with a lust that burned incessantly.  At times he even asked 
Dogwater:

   "I thought you were gonna tell Wacker to stop by and see me."

   They were standing in the hall at the end of 5th period.  Dogwater
paused a moment, his journal hidden in his notebook.  Coach Hatch was
Dogwater's favorite person, the only one in his life who truly made him
feel secure.  He felt so secure, in fact, that his dick started getting
hard on him.

   "I've told him, Coach.  But you know, he works nights."

   "Right. He drives for your daddy.  But he could still stop by on his
way out of town."

   "Daddy don't let any of them stop for anything when they're on a 
run.  He said he would see you sometime.  He said he still remembered
you."

   Coach Hatch put his hand absently on Dogwater's shoulder, which made
Dogwater's dick get even harder.  But the Coach's thoughts were
elsewhere, to the time the tall and slender Wacker had been in his PE
classes.  Hatch could see him now, striding out of the shower with his
dick swaying from side to side.  Or, Wacker dressing out while the 
coach watched from a distance, feeling a burning inside as Wacker tried
to pull up his jock and get it fixed while his dick wanted to stay free.
Even the day Wacker sat on the crapper dumping a load, while the coach
pretended to be checking the bathroom for toilet paper.  When Wacker 
sat on the pot, his dick hung down so far he had to hold it to keep it 
out of the water.

   "Damn," he said aloud to Dogwater, "you Mathews' boys sure have got
the bodies.  And the equipment."

   Dogwater grinned at this, and felt all warm and loved inside.  Not
since that day 12 years before when his mother had departed with her
suitcase in the expensive car that came to get her, had he had anyone
who really talked to him, who really seemed interested in him.

   He wanted to tell Coach Hatch about his new project for his book. 
He had started getting up early, now that the weather was close to
summer, and looking at likely places where tramps and drifters might
sleep.  He had heard that they often slept in the nude, and he wanted
to see if he could spot some new dicks to record in his journal.  This
project had met with absolutely no success, but Dogwater peered into
barns and through the windows of deserted houses to see if anyone 
might be sleeping there.  He did not let his lack of success discourage
him.

   "You got time for me now?" he asked hopefully.

   Coach Hatch's thoughts returned abruptly to the present.  He looked
at Dogwater as if he had forgotten he was there.  "Oh..er..better not
for now.  I'll check with you later."

   Dogwater nodded eagerly.  Ever hopeful, he went on down the hall to
his next class.

                                           II

   Wacker Mathews was so bisexual that it was almost embarrassing.  Not
only did he and his brothers often relieve their urges on Dogwater at
night in the infamous bedroom, but he and Linda Sue Pringle lusted
together at the lake, at the closed and abandoned drive-in, and even on
the sofa in her parents living room when they were gone to Mobile to
shop at the new Wal-Mart.

   Linda Sue considered this lean and handsome boy to be the true love
of her life, and the one she hoped some day to marry.  But what she and
everyone else in town did not know, was that Wacker had a secret love
of his own.

   This secret love troubled Wacker greatly. His life had been 
uncomplicated until now.  Guys loved girls, had sex with them, and in
time finally married one of them.  That was no problem.  When guys
were growing up, you could think whatever thoughts you wanted when you
beat off, because those were just thoughts.  And even if you got with
some guys some time and had a circle jerk, or spent the night with
some guy and the two of you got off together, that was still no 
problem.  And even the things they did to Dogwater at night in bed were
no problem.  After all, Dogwater was their brother, and they were just
having fun and practicing for the day they got laid.

   But from the first time he saw Billy, he had experienced feelings
that didn't seem to be right.  His breath would get short, his stomach
would get a funny feeling, and his dick would somehow be sending him a
message.

   He first saw Billy six months ago, and since that time, his life had
not been the same.  When he made a run delivering moonshine to the
joints and darkened houses on the backroads of south Alabama counties,
his thoughts would be filled with Billy.  And driving back, in the 
pitch black dark of some sultry evenings, when the corn in the fields 
smelled like it was roasting, he would pull the seat forward, whip out 
his dick and sit it on the bottom of the steering wheel, and let the 
rhythm of the road bring him off.  Before parking the car at home, he 
would clean the cum off the dash and the seat and the wheel, and then 
head inside to bed.  And his thoughts would still lust after Billy.

   Wacker wasn't used to problems like that.  It had gotten so lately
that he would rather jack off thinking of Billy, than to be having
sex with the ever-lovely Linda Sue.  He hated himself that this was
true.  And he didn't know what to do about it.

   In every garden, there is a serpent.  In every apple there is a 
worm.  And in Wacker's world, there was a terrible impediment.  Billy,
whom he wanted above all else, had one great flaw.  A flaw that if
Wacker's daddy ever found out about, would be an even worse sin in his
father's eyes than if he had thought Wacker was gay.

   Billy was a cop.

   There.  He had said it to himself.  Maybe not aloud, but he, Wacker
Mathews, had admitted that he cared deeply for someone who was a cop. 
Even as he made his nightly moonshine runs, avoiding the law at all
costs, his thoughts were of the strong and handsome, brown-haired,
brown eyed Billy Harrison, who was a fresh young deputy in the 
sheriff's department.


                                             III


   There was a fast food place where Billy would often stop when he was
on duty, and Wacker managed to drop in there at the same time.  They
were both near the same age (Wacker found out later that Billy was a
year older), but Billy had lived in the next county when he was school
age, and the two did not meet until the day Wacker first set eyes on
him.

   Although no one, perhaps even the two themselves, will ever know all
the factors involved in their coming together, it was probably a case
of two lonely individuals who, in the dark night of their souls,
suddenly realized what love was and what they wanted in life.  But each
looked into the other's eyes, felt the shock of recognition, and knew
from that moment that they wanted to be together.

   The first night they slept together, it was at Billy's place, which
amounted to two rooms and a bath on one side of old Mrs. Ellis' house.
Mrs. Ellis, nearing 95 and almost totally deaf, would never have heard
the moans and sighs and cries of ecstasy that eminated from that
bedroom on that night.  She had been happy to rent to the deputy, since
she had heard that there was crime everywhere these days, and she 
figured a fine upstanding boy like Billy Harrison would be the best
protection she could find anywhere.  She secretly believed that all
this business of gays in the military was undermining the country, and
that with no military defense, chaos was eminent everywhere.  She was
glad her roomer was someone who hadn't been undermined by all this.

   But when Wacker and Billy got into the room that night, she was fast
asleep. They were careful to be quiet, and both were shy.  This would 
be their first coming together.  They pulled the shades and Billy 
turned on the small lamp on the table by his bed.  His brown eyes shown
eagerly.

   "I sure am glad you could come here."

   Wacker was just as eager, but by nature he was more reserved.  No
Mathews wanted anyone to mistake kindness for weakness.  It was better
to be low key and make people guess.  "Yeah, I've been wanting to get 
with you."

   Wacker's dick was throbbing, and his voice was husky.  He looked 
into Billy's eager, smiling eyes, and he thought he was going to shoot
off before they ever got started.  He reached over and pulled Billy
close, and kissed him.

   He could actually feel Billy's heart beating against his chest.  He
began to unbutton Billy's shirt, and slipped his hand under the
undershirt and began sliding it toward Billy's nipples. They were as
hard as Wacker knew his own dick was.  Billy also was gasping.

   The smoothness of Billy's skin was sending Wacker wild.  He wanted
to lick him all over, to touch his smooth ass and lick between his toes
and do everything to make the two of them become one.  This was the
body he wanted, this was the flesh he wanted, this was the person he
wanted to be with forever.

   Wacker's hands were driving Billy wild.  In his white jockey briefs,
his dick was bent almost double and salivating all over the place.  He
hoped Wacker would get to his pants and shorts soon to give him some 
relief.  But at that moment, with his shirt and undershirt off, Wacker 
began licking his nipples, while his hot hands played all over his 
chest.

   "My pants," Billy whispered.  "Open...my...oh god, I'm about to cum!
Oh..Wacker..."

   Wacker unbuckled the belt, unbuttoned and unzipped the trousers, and
let them fall to the floor.  His fingers sought out Billy's big bone.
"Shit fire", Wacker whispered, "you've really got it.  I mean you
REALLY have."

   Billy responded to Wacker's touch as if he had been waiting a 
lifetime for it.  The fingers against his massive bone were almost more
than he could hope for.  He felt like he was about to shoot at any
moment.

   Wacker slid his hand inside the shorts, and pulling out the 
waistband began to slide them down.  Now his fingers could feel the 
dick itself, its length, its power, it smooth untouched freshness.  He
felt like he was at the dawn of creation, touching the first dick that
ever existed in the whole history of the world.

   Wacker sensed the time was near.  He dropped to his knees and took
Billy's giant thing in his mouth.  It was smooth and full and pulsing.
He gladly took it all, almost choking as it reached the throat.  And
it was obvious Billy had never done this before, because he seemed to
start as his bone hit the back of Wacker's mouth.  He almost mumbled
an apology.

   But the warmth of the mouth, the feeling of Wacker's saliva, and
the touch of Wacker's fingers on his balls were so powerful that he
couldn't help himself.  He was in some magic sexual world where he felt
better than he ever had in his whole life.  Like a giant river bursting
its dam, he shot for all he was worth.  He was wracked with a shudder
that was like a convulsion.  When it was over, he collapsed on the
bed, looking brown-eyed at Wacker, and whispering "Thank you, thank
you, thank you."

   Wacker grinned.  Suddenly he felt complete.  "Don't go to sleep on
me, man.  It ain't near over yet."
 

                                               IV


   But there was a serpent in the garden, a worm in the apple, and his
named was Sparks.  A deputy with the Sheriff's Department, he was in
charge of the night shift.  A wife beater and a coward in a fight, he
always sought revenge on a world that he felt was laughing at him, a
world he believed knew his deepest secrets.  His consumption of alcohol
had for some time robbed him of his sex drive, but he preferred to
blame his wife.

   He wanted a promotion, he wanted recognition, he wanted to be a hero
in the eyes of the community.  And he finally thought of a way that
this could be achieved.  He would do something that no one for a decade
had succeeded in doing, he would catch old man Mathews and his boys 
when they went to their still, and put the moonshiners out of business.

   All he needed for his plan to succeed was to find out where the 
still was.  And to do that, he needed to see where the various Mathews
boys went at night.  He decided to set his sights on one of them, and 
so as fate would have it, he chose Wacker.
 
   In a life lived in frustration, it did not seem odd to Sparks that
his efforts met with little success.  He long ago had decided that life
was going to frustrate him at every turn of the road.  And because he
was in charge of the night shift, he not only could look for Wacker at
will, but he could soothe his resentments with a little snort of 
alcohol now and then.

   While this plan of Sparks was being set into effect, Billy and
Wacker spent their time together in bliss.  Ninety-five year old ladies
seldom pry, and besides Mrs. Ellis believed that when the sun went 
down, it was time for decent people to be asleep.  It never dawned on
her that Billy did not sleep alone.

   For Billy, this was a time of pure bliss.  Inexperienced sexually,
he found Wacker marvelous and filled with all sorts of knowledge about 
sex and how to do it.  While Wacker was in awe of the sheer size and 
untouched quality of Billy's body, with the smooth skin and rippling 
muscles, Billy found the slender rawboned quality of Wacker's body a 
pleasure to behold.  After they had sex, Billy would lie across 
Wacker's stomach and fondle the head of his dick.  Often they would
talk, usually about intimate things.

   "Wacker?"

   "Yeah, Billy?"

   "How'd you learn to do all this stuff?"

   Wacker was a little uneasy at the question.  While he was glad to be
plowing untouched property when he was having Billy, he did not want to
seem like such a man of the world that he might appear burned out.

   "Oh, I don't know.  I just sort of picked it up, I guess."

   "I met somebody at work who says she knows you real good."  There
was a touch of something in Billy's voice that Wacker had not heard
before.

   "Who was that?"

   "Linda Sue Pringle.  She came by the station to see if we needed a
dispatcher for radio duty.  It turns out we don't right now.  But she
saw you go by out in the street, and she started telling me that you
and she had an understanding."

   "Like shit we do," Wacker barked.

   "Well, I just wondered."  Billy dropped his eyes.  Even though he 
was the older one, Wacker seemed somehow older or wiser to him.

   "Come here," Wacker said suddenly with a grin, and grabbed Billy
into his arms.  They fell back on the bed and Wacker started in again
on that wonderful body that drove him into ecstasy.
                       

                                           V


   It was probably just as well that neither Billy nor Wacker knew the
trouble that was heading their way.  They had their little taste of
paradise, their little area of bliss, and there was no good really in
warning them that the apple had a worm, that the garden had a snake, 
and that paradise always had a serpent loose in it somewhere.  When 
you're young and horny and fucking the hell out of the guy you love 
best, life has no problems.

   The days of their bliss flowed past, and the leaves on the trees
began to turn that slightly yellow tint which was the first warning
that summer was ending.  When Wacker did not have to make moonshine
deliveries at night, their evenings were noisy and joyous.  Mrs. Ellis
slept through it all, content that no trouble could come to her with a
sheriff's deputy in the bedroom apartment.

   But it was Sparks who wanted to bring things to a head.  He realized
as August wound its way toward September, that he was no nearer to
uncovering the location of the Mathews' still, than he had been when he
first hit on the plan in early June.  But his luck was about to change.

   On a moonless night on the last day of the month, Wacker made a
delivery run into Washington County.  Usually one of his brothers 
always accompanied him if his father did not go, but this night there
were several deliveries to be made, and Wacker was taking his own car.
He had never told Billy about the moonshine, but he figured that Billy
had heard enough about it to realize that Wacker was as involved in the
family business as any of the others.  That night Wacker told him he
would be late getting back to Billy's.

   It was after ten when Wacker headed the car quietly toward the 
still.  The real secret of the still was that it wasn't located on 
Mathews' property.  Actually it was located in government timber land, 
on a winding dirt road that probably the government itself didn't know 
about, since no one ever seemed to check up on things here.

   The containers were all there waiting for him.  His father had come
by in the afternoon and filled them.  Everything was as it should be.
This would be an easy run, he thought.

   Back in town, Sparks sweated as he sat in an unmarked car, watching
the deserted road from the Mathews place that joined the old highway.
He cursed as he thought of the Mathews family, and he cursed his fate
that he could never get a promotion.  He thought of the young girl, so
attractive, who had come by the office several times to see if there
might be a dispatcher's job opening.  Linda Sue Pringle.  That was her
name.  He wished his wife looked like that.  He wondered if his wife
had ever been that young.

   Time passed.  Wacker was off in the back roads of Washington County,
making dark deliveries in the dead of night.  Sparks nipped from the
bottle he kept under the front seat.  He sweated.  He cursed.  And back
in his room at Mrs. Ellis', Billy sat by a window waiting for Wacker to
return.

   Billy liked the quiet of the night.  It gave him time to think, to
remember, to return to the past.  He thought about the first time he
had seen Wacker Mathews.  He remembered the gasp he felt inside to
suddenly see someone whose dark blue eyes seemed to get larger when he
looked at Billy.  Billy remembered how his hands had sweated, and how
he wanted to speak to Wacker but was afraid to.  Being on the sheriff's
department, he had to be very careful not to seem to come on to anyone.


   The night seemed long for all concerned.  Sparks finally gave up
about midnight, and abandoned his position for one on the county road
that led into town from Washington County.  If he couldn't catch the
Mathews' boys on a run, maybe he could get some tourist for speeding.

   Wacker, meantime, had disposed of all his goods, and was heading
home to Billy with a pocketful of cash to be given to his father the
next morning.  He drove past fields already harvested, where occasional
mice still scavenged for food.  Pitch blackness hid everything but the
bright beams of his headlights as he picked up speed.

   Sparks saw the car coming.  Waiting until it was speeding past, he
started the engine, put a flashing light on the roof of the car, hit
the siren, and took off.  It wasn't until he had pulled the car over,
that he realized it was Wacker.

   Wacker sat and knew that there was no escape.  He hoped he could
bluff his way through.  But it was not until Sparks stood beside the 
window, breathing alcoholic fumes in his face, that it dawned on him 
that he might be in more trouble than he expected.

   He was about to ask why he was stopped, but before he could speak, 
something blunt hit him on the side of his head, and blackness 
swallowed up any world he knew.


                                            VI


    He came to with a throbbing head and a feeling that he couldn't
move.  As his head cleared, he realized he was tied to a post in some
basement.  It was still night.  For a minute, he wondered how he had
gotten there.  Then, through the blackness, he could see that Sparks
was standing a few feet away, waiting for him to come to.

   "Well, Mathews, I reckon I've got you right where I want you."

   Wacker waited for him to go on.  When he didn't, Wacker asked, "Why
am I here?  What is it you want?"  Dimly in the back of his mind, he
thought perhaps Sparks had learned about him and Billy, and this was
some sort of revenge.

   "Where's your daddy's still?"  Although it was a question, the tone
of voice Sparks was using indicated he was demanding to be told.

   "None of your business, Sparks."

   "I'm making it my business, prick.  I'm gonna get you to tell me
where it is, so I can go to it and close it down permanently.  They'll
put you and your whole family in prison permanently, and I'll get a
promotion.  Ok, where is it?"

   "None of your business. Now let me go."

   Wacker pulled himself up by pushing up with his legs.  His hands 
were tied behind the post.  

   Sparks came over closer.  "Tell me where it is."

   "Sparks, I need to take a leak."  This was true, although Wacker
thought that if he could get to a bathroom, maybe he could climb out
a window.

   "You lie.  But if you really do need it, just piss in your pants.
You ain't going anywhere, fucker."

   "No shit, Sparks, I really mean it.  I gotta take a piss, and soon."
Wacker shifted but was unable to cross his legs for emphasis.  A rope
wound around each ankle loosely, and was tied at the back of the post.

   Sparks was himself somewhat dazed from the alcohol.  He looked at
Wacker a moment, then stepped forward and unzipped Wacker's pants.
Reaching in, he pulled out his dick and held it in his hand for a 
moment, staring stupidly at it.

   As if he had lost the thread of the conversation, Sparks said, "That
is sure some pecker you've got there, young fellow."  He absently
moved his fingers along it, as if it were a hose nozzle he was planning
to buy.

   Wacker gave a shudder.  His dick moved in Sparks' hand.  It seemed
to be taking on a life of its own.  Wacker's head ached.  It hurt to
move. It even hurt to think.

   In his drunken stupor, Sparks seemed unaware of what he was doing.
He kept fondling the dick, and as it hardened, he helped slide back the
foreskin.  "Nice, pretty head you've got there, little fella.  Except
you're not so little any more, are you?  You're lengthening up right
smart."  He sounded as if the dick were a person, a child, a pet of
some sort.

   Then abruptly he seemed to come out of his daze, and his eyes became 
shifty and crafty.  He turned and picked up a half-empty bottle of 
whiskey and raised it to his lips.

   "This is good stuff.  I go through two of these a night.  Damn
doctor said I ought to quit drinking.  I told him it made me too
nervous when I quit, so he gave me some pills."  Reaching in his shirt
pocket, he pulled out a small prescription bottle.

   "But I fooled the doctor.  I found a better use for them.  Instead
of taking them and leaving off whiskey, I take them WITH whiskey."

   He popped one of the capsules in his mouth, and swallowed it with a
slug from the bottle.  "Damn but that's good," he said wiping his
mouth on his sleeve.  "You know sometimes with these pills I can feel
dizzy just standing around?  And sometimes I even forget where I've
been."

   He swayed slightly, and then looked down at Wacker's dick as if he
were seeing it for the first time.  "Damn, boy, do you know you've got
your dick sticking out?  And it's hard as hell, too."

   He reached down and started working it with rapid motions.  "You
gonna tell me where that still is, boy?  Cause if not..." his hand
began to cruelly twist Wacker's bone.  "You gonna suffer some, boy."

   Wacker twisted in agony.  He needed to urinate, his dick had been
near the point of shooting off, and now everything down there hurt like
hell.  Even with his throbbing head, he knew he had to think of a way
out of this situation.  He was sure Sparks was coming apart at the
seams.

   "Stop a minute!  Leggo so I can say something," Wacker cried.

   That seemed to register with Sparks, who released his grip on
Wacker's dick.

   "Sparks, think about it.  If anybody should find us here, they
would say you kidnapped me.  Do you realize what the penalty would be?
But if you let me go, I promise I won't ever mention it to anybody."

   Sparks took another large swig from the bottle.  His eyes had begun
to glaze after he took the pill.  Now he was having a little trouble
focusing.

   "Naw.  You know I can't let you go, Wacker.  Not 'till I know where
that still is.  I gotta get my promotion."  His words were becoming
slurred.  He reached down to Wacker's bone, and took it in his fingers
again.  He was working it almost absent-mindedly.

   Wacker looked toward the window.  The gray light of early dawn was
just becoming visible.  "What if I won't tell you?  You can't keep me
here forever.  Somebody will find me."

   "If you won't tell me, then I reckon I'll have to keep working you
over until you do.  And nobody will ever find you here.  I've watched
this house and it's been empty for months.  Some nights I've slipped
down here to the basement to drink while I was on duty." 

   He rambled on in a slurred way for a few moments.  Wacker knew he
had to try one last chance.

   "But what if I won't tell you?"

   "Then I reckon I'll have to kill you," Sparks said.


                                               VII


   It was early dawn when some farmer called and reported an abandoned
car on the county road.  A check of the car tag showed it was Wacker's.
It was also early dawn when Billy, troubled after a sleepless night,
went down to the station, and found that the sheriff was furious 
because Sparks had never checked in during the night.  Now the sheriff
was inheriting all the work Sparks should have done, all the problems
he should have solved.  The sheriff was getting a little suspicious of
his night-time assistant.

   Billy realized there must be a problem.  Wacker was definitely
missing, although Billy did not want to arouse suspicion by asking at
the Mathews home.  Mr. Mathews came in to claim the abandoned car.  He
began asking about his son.  Billy was sure then that there must be 
trouble.  But what kind?


   Through the mists of the morning, Dogwater walked with his journal,
hoping he could find some abandoned barn or occupied hayloft where
maybe some new person was sleeping, hopefully in the raw, so that he
could make a penis entry in his book.  He was still fully convinced 
that tramps, drifters, and aging hippies all slept in the raw, and left
doors open where they could be seen unawares.

   But thirty minutes later, with no success so far, he was shocked to
look through a basement window down into a dark area and see his own
brother tied up.  He could also see that another person was there as
well.  He recognized the night-time chief, Deputy Sparks.  Dogwater
couldn't believe his eyes.  He also couldn't believe what Sparks was
doing to his brother's dick.


   Back at the station, the search was heating up, but leading nowhere.
Linda Sue Pringle heard the news, and rushed down to ask if she could
help.  In total innocence, she chose Billy as the deputy she wanted to
talk to.

   "I'm just so concerned," she said, her eyes fluttering.  "Wacker and
I are ever so close, I mean I am sure the day will come when we'll be
married, and.."

   Billy thought to himself, That'll be the day.

   Mr. Mathews, the picture of homestead frustration, sat waiting for
news.  The sheriff was being helpful, but there were no clues so far.
It was at that moment that the phone rang.  Dogwater had called at 
last.

   In the basement, Sparks was stumbling and talking incoherently.  "I
can't lose my job.  If I let you go, they will know I kidnapped you."

   Wacker, totally nude by now with his pants and shorts around his 
ankles, and his dick standing up and out and dripping cum from where
Sparks had finally succeeded almost absently in working him off, was
desperate.

   "I won't tell, Sparks.  Look, let me go now, and I can get back to
my car and claim I just passed out and slept in my car last night."

   "Naw.  It's too late for that.  Everything's gone crazy.  Look at
that dick of yours.  You done shot off.  I reckon I done that, but that
ain't like me.  I don't even do that kind of stuff."  He paused in a
troubled and puzzled way. "You reckon those pills done that to me?  I
never used to be like that before."  He reached again for the now-empty
bottle, and then threw it disgustedly on the floor.

   "Don't nothing make sense no more.  But I reckon I better do
something about you, boy."

   Picking up the jagged neck of the broken bottle, he came over and
grabbed Wacker's testicles, almost crushing them in his hand.  "I
better find out from you quick, boy, or...or..."

   He had reached the passing out point.  His eyes glazed, his hands
relaxed, the bottle neck fell again to the floor, and Sparks quietly
slumped over to one side.  After one groan, he lay there peacefully
snoring.

   That was how the sheriff and his men found him.


                                          VIII


   It was night before Billy and Wacker could be together again.  By
that time, Sparks had been officially fired from the Sheriff's
Department, arrested, booked, and was being held without bond in jail.  
Wacker had been checked by the doctor, who found there was no 
concussion and there were no broken bones, although he had a black eye
and a number of bruises.  Dogwater was considered the hero of the day, 
so much so in fact that Coach Hatch had called and invited him to come 
over and have supper with him.


   And at last Billy and Wacker were back together in their little
paradise.  For at least the present, all serpents were vanquished.  Now
was their time to reunite and replenish their relationship.  Wacker 
tried to tell Billy everything that had happened, and Billy understood
why Wacker was still so very tired and sore.

   "Tonight," Billy said, "you won't have to do a thing.  This is my
time to do you."  He grinned from ear to ear.

   Wacker grinned back.  They were lying on the bed, and Billy began
pulling off Wacker's shorts.  With Wacker on his back, Billy stood
beside the bed and pulled Wacker's legs toward him, finally placing
them high with the ankles on his shoulders.  Wacker's hole was in
perfect view, and Billy began sliding his well lubricated fingers in
and out.  When he was far enough in that his middle finger could
massage Wacker's prostate, he could see that he was getting results.
Wacker's tired dick, still sore from the night before, began to expand.

   Wacker started to moan with pleasure.  Billy then stopped his 
massage and inserted his long and fully erect dick into the hole.  His
fingers then began rubbing Wacker's dick.  Wacker moaned even more.

   "You like that, huh?" Billy asked with glee.  His feelings for
Wacker were written all over his face.  His fingers were playing a
tune on his best friend's dick.  He could see the muscles tense and
the bone want to dance.  The blood was pulsing beneath his touch,
while his massive pole was hitting the prostate even better than his
fingers had.

   Wacker writhed in ecstasy, and his voice was getting husky, but he
managed to moan, "You know, if you all hadn't come when you did today,
I swear Sparks was so out of it I think he would have blown me."

   Even in their passion both of them began to laugh.  But the drive of
heated sex was having its way, and both were reaching their fulfillment 
time.  Billy gave a final thrust, and they shot off together.  Then  
they lay ecstatic in each others arms, fulfilled, warm, comfortable, 
happy, and truly together.

   In her room, Mrs. Ellis slept soundly.  She felt the assurance and
peace that comes to one who knows for sure that here there is no worm 
in her apple, and certainly no snake in her Eden.

                           (The End)
__________________________________________________________
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