Date: Mon, 26 May 2014 15:42:38 -0700 (PDT)
From: Macout Mann <macoutmann@yahoo.com>
Subject: Aaron 12

This story is about a group of high school boys and involves explicit
homosexual sex.  Be warned that in the course of the story there are one or
two encounters between teens and adults.  If you are underage or find such
subject matter objectionable, please read no further.

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Copyright 2014 by Macout Mann.  All rights reserved.



                                     AARON

                                by Macout Mann



                                     XII

                                "Cumuppance"


As far as my former buddies were concerned I no longer existed.  At lunch
Jerry found another table to sit at and he no longer sat near me in class.
At school Mark and Winston had never associated with me outside "the room,"
but Ben and Anthony went out of their way to shun me.  I could detect
longing looks from Tony when we passed each other, though.  He always
stared at my crotch.  I would scratch it to torment him, whenever I could
get away with it, which was often.

Hank and George and even some other guys asked me what happened between me
and Jerry.  I just told them we had an argument.

I did try to keep up with Porter, but he just said, "They told me not to
talk to you."

Being ignored was probably best.  Dad still kept me informed about what was
going on, and if the group was still talking to me, I might have dropped a
hint or something.

The FBI had put Fashion Films under surveillance and discovered that there
was always a lot of activity on Sunday.  They surmised that the weekend was
when they did a lot of their hardcore stuff.  So they got search warrants
for the Estes home in Bethesda and Fashion Films in Kansas City.  They were
both to be executed at 2:45 Eastern Time on the Second Sunday in March.
That way nobody could be warned and no evidence destroyed.

I really felt bad for my fuck buddies.  Dad said that only Mark would be
indicted.  The others would only be material witnesses.  Still, part of me
said that it was only right that I share in their humiliation.  I did ask
Dad to go with me to see Mrs. Wiggins while the search was taking place.  I
wanted to tell her that I was sorry that she had been deceived and that I
had tried to get Porter to get out of the group.  For whatever good that
would do.

I learned that the FBI interrupted an orgy being taped at Fashion Films.
The director insisted there was nothing illegal about what they were doing,
and the agent in charge told him that was true, if there were no minors
involved; but he also said that wasn't what they were there for anyway.
They did find what they were looking for, the master copies of the
offending videos and the company records documenting the whole operation,
incidentally showing that videos had been made using much younger children.

At the Estes' house, the FBI interrupted the usual meeting, discovered the
hidden cameras and confiscated the video they contained.  The Estes were
arrested on the spot.  My friends were taken to the local police station
and held until their parents came to get them.  Fortunately the local tv
news deadlines had passed by the time the arrests were public.  The fact
that the searches were made in far distant cities also helped to keep the
story from making page one.  By Monday the story was a second section
mention that a Bethesda tycoon's family had been arrested on a pornography
charge and had made bail.  Fortunately, Washington's tabloid fever is
restricted to politics.



Of course the guys guessed that I was involved in what happened.  First
thing Monday I was accosted by Ben and Jerry.

"You goddamned, motherfucking son of a bitch!" Jerry shouted.  "We're going
to beat the shit out of you!"

"Yeah, Ben can beat me bloody and you could help."  I tried to calm them.
"But let's face it, guys, right now there are no charges against you.  If
you beat me up, the same dude that's got Mr. Estes' ass in a sling will
have you in jail too.  And you won't be making bail so easy.

"I'm sorry about what happened.  Somehow my dad got ahold of the video
Jerry and I made down in Florida.  He had my fucking ass.  Said he had to
see Estes was prosecuted.  He is a fucking lawyer, you know.  Made me get
out of the group and stay quiet about what was going to happen.

"And sure as hell you have every right to be pissed at me.  I'm pissed at
myself.  But what's done's done.

"I'd like to be your friend again."

"Go fuck yourself," Jerry said.

"Yeah, go fuck yourself," Ben echoed.



April 10 was a week away when I gave Mr. Baker a revised copy of my essay.
"When friendships end, when friends are betrayed, that's when you can
recognize if friendships are real," it began.  I kept most of what I had
written before, but I devised a way to fracture the friendship I had
described, to parallel the situation I was now in, and to describe what I
now think real friendship is.

Mr. Baker was not happy.  "Your other essay was much better," he said.
"You really ought to use that one."

"I am going to submit this one," I told him.

"I assume your father found out about you and Jerry."  He touched his dick
again.  "That's no reason to throw away an opportunity to win the contest."

"I'm going to submit this one," I repeated.

I felt that I now knew about recognizing real friendship, and I did send my
last version to the judges.

One month later, the Montgomery County School District announced that the
winner of the Oscar Pope Prize for the best essay by a high school freshman
was from Walt Whitman High School.  Aaron Rose.


                                 THE END