From: FANCHAPHAW@news.delphi.com (FANCHAPHAW@DELPHI.COM)
Subject: FAN CHA PHAW: DONNIE (man/boy)
Date: 24 Dec 1994 23:46:52 -0500
Organization: Delphi Internet Services Corporation
FAN CHA PHAW PRESENTS:
FROM THE ARCHIVES:
"DONNIE"
This story is from the archives of Fan Cha Phaw. This story might
have appeared previously on the net, or in other publications.
This is an adult fiction story, which consists of sex and sexual
scenes between men and boys, or boys and boys.
If this type of story offends you, or your community standards,
exit now and do not continue reading.
If you are under the age of 18 (in the US), or under the age in your
country to read such stories, exit now and do not continue reading.
Fan Cha Phaw does not condone the actions of the actors in this
story. Fan Cha Phaw does not condone the breaking of any laws.
We can be reached at fanchaphaw@delphi.com
PLEASE REMEMBER that all repost requests, comments, and
discussion belong on alt.sex.stories.d, and not on the story
thread.
DONNIE
Donnie Dugan watched his breath fog into a cloud of steam, one
moment alive, only to be snatched away by the chilly wind. The
tingling, almost hot sensation, of the cold winter air bit his ears.
To the natives it's a great climate, best of both seasons. It has the
vigor of cool autumn days, the chill of winter's snow, and a
summer sun that can fry an egg on the sidewalk. To foreigners,
from outside Texas, it's where someone gave the earth an enema.
Both schools of thought have merit although Donnie was
beginning to lean toward the asshole of the earth idea.
Donnie was a product of the south but his attendance at a middle
size college and later in Seattle had opened his eyes beyond his
small town Baptist upbringing. He grew up on a farm, reared as
they called it. Folks said you raised pigs, one reared kids. In
watching the two he wasn't sure the distinction was that clear.
While he was not exactly God fearing, he had been given a
modicum of Baptist training. He got more for his money than
most. Most just got preached at. His wasn't exactly a "Road to
Damascus" conversion but it was touching, very touching.
Donnie was the usual kid growing up on a southern farm. It was a
farm where there was always enough to eat but he still stayed on
the skinny side. His brown hair was home cut and unruly but it
served to bring out a boyish look. He wore his clothes well past
when most kids threw their clothes away but he wasn't particularly
conscious of being deprived. What the hell, his friends were in
the same shape. His eyes were a common brown but with a more
expressive than most. One had only to look into his eyes to read
his heart. He ran a little taller than others for his age and was
proportionate except for his privates which were the talk of the
hospital when he was born. If they fulfilled their potential they
would be Boone and Crocket, real record material. His home
atmosphere was easy going and for the most part he was a laid
back kid.
He lost his parents shortly after birth, consequentially he was
reared by grandparents. Kids, farms, and grandparents were a
dime a dozen. At twelve he hadn't heard of duplicity or hypocrisy
but was rapidly getting an education in the idea from the local
pastor. Reverend Small would fondle Donnie under his choir robe
on Sunday morning and by eleven thirty was sending everybody
to hell. It became a part of the Sunday morning service, get
dressed for children's choir, then go help Reverend Small in his
private study. He meditated there before sending "the flock" to a
special purgatory reserves for just about everyone. Donnie
wondered how it was Reverend SmallUs sucking Donnie's peter
exempted him from damnation but why look a gift horse in the
mouth, especially one that could take out his teeth.
Donnie enjoyed the fondling. Of course it had soon developed
into full blown sucking with Donnie spread eagled on the
reverends desk, choir robe over his head. The Reverends finger in
his butt, he could take or leave but he thought the Reverend may
be onto something. It was kinda' like patting your head and
rubbing you belly all at the same time. Fingering his butt and
sucking him at the same time was a strain of the Reverend's
coordination. He found the prospects of hell disquieting but not
terribly so, after all, the train hadn't left yet. If he wound up there
the Reverend would surely be waiting.
That Donnie enjoyed the pre-service-service could be easily seen,
or more accurately felt. He developed a rock hard appendage that
would be at full attention by the time he reached Reverend Small's
study. Pavlov would have been proud. Penile erections and
doggie slobber can each be anticipatory conditioning. Spit and
ejaculation are similar too when you think about it. Donnie
guessed the lump behind the zipper of his "Sunday go to meeting"
pants were OK. Reverend Small had a similar, if larger lump,
which he had to rearrange before he could leave the study. If one
looked, as Donnie often did, you could see it as Reverend Small
hurried to hide it behind the pulpit. "My rod and my staff it
comforteth me."
He thought it all a wonderful mystery and then suddenly Reverend
Small had to leave the church in a hurry. There were little
meetings of the deacons who whispered real secretive like and then
no more Reverend Small. The grown ups talked in lowered tones
when Donnie was around them but who the hell understood
adults. He wished Reverend Small would come back 'cause he
still got his "Sunday go to meeting" hard on.
The new guy was dull as hell... and he didn't suck either unless he
was sucking the little girls who now helped him meditate but he
had a hard on later just like the other preacher. Gradually there
were less and less children's choir's. He forgot the choir but the
lumps continued with a vengeance.
Donnie was aware of fucking long before he was twelve but he
didn't know what he knew. He lived on the farm with his
grandparents who would have tasted shit if they ever said such a
word as fucking. If fucking tasted like shit the farm bull had a
mouth full of it twenty four hours a day. His grandparents
weren't exactly into advanced sex education. Therefore his
questions about, "what was the bull doing trying to pump up old
"Bossie" and why does the rooster ride all the hens," went mostly
unanswered. However, by now, he had figured out there was
more to this than he first suspected so he began his own
exploration of the subject. That almost ended quite tragically, in
his experiment with a sucking calf.
Who would have guessed a little calf like that would have teeth? It
started when he saw the calf sucking and hunching old "Bossie."
Damn if it didn't look just like Reverend Small sucking and
hunching him in the crotch on Sunday mornings. Bossie would
probably stick her hoof up his butt too if she knew how. Donnie
almost didn't get those damn calf teeth pried apart and his peter
pried from between them. When he did he hit the calf square
between the eyes with the milking stool. While the calf staggered
off Donnie examined the damage. One bent dick not to mention it
hurt like hell. Donnie knew when something broke, like a bone,
you splint it so he split a joint of cane pole and taped it into place.
Later he would get loads of compliments about how this
wonderful knot in the middle of his dick. **** By the following
summer his now completely healed pecker was getting appreciably
larger and his interest in the male species of farm animals grew
accordingly. Face it, not everyone can use a bull for a roll model.
He figured the bull had a good idea so he set out to ride a cow like
he had seen the bull do it. It should be a snap, after all, he was
already on his hind legs. It was a disaster. He had selected a
small cow, a little brown jersey that appeared gentle enough when
he had milked her, so he locked her head in the milking stall. Next
he got the milking stool and put it behind her so he could reach the
top of her tail or more specifically the dirty spot under it. The
droopy, floppy, sloppy split hole did not look all that inviting after
closer inspection. Still, science must go on and his anticipatory
lump didn't seemed put off by the stained split under her swishing
tail. The stool wasn't quite high enough so he added a milk
bucket, turned upside down. This brought the dirty little orifice
right level with his knotted prick, freshly liberating from his
overalls. He checked back toward the house before deciding to
pull his overalls completely off. He was now holding old
"BossieUs" hips waiting for the pendulum tail to swing far enough
for a jab.
The timing wasn't very good. Just as he was leaning back for his
immortal thrust the jersey spread her legs wide. Donnie knew It
wasn't in anticipation of his putting a smile on her face. His
exclamation of, "Oh Shit," was right on. She wasn't getting ready
for balling by "Ferdinand." She was assuming the universal piss
position of the female bovine. The unsteady bucket canted off the
three legged stool and the entire heap of stool, boy, and bucket
was soaked by the considerable stream of the steaming jersey
urine. He understood first hand the expression, "splattered like a
cow pissing on a flat rock," or in his case a flat stool. With her
head locked in the stall, the jersey couldn't look around to
appreciate the catastrophe she had caused but Donnie thought he
heard her chuckle, a moo-heh, moo-heh, moo-ha. Donnie saw the
handle of the manure scoop and considered giving her something
up her insulting twat to moo-heh about but decided against it. The
smelly warm cow piss that was all over him was a more pressing
matter.
Fortunately the pond was right behind the barn. We are not
talking lagoon here, just a dug out clay tank with treacherously
steep sides. The water was as wet as most but muddy and spotted
with floating gardens which, on closer inspection was cow patties.
The front was sloped and it was for this he headed.
He grabbed his splattered, overalls and tried to hold his breath
the forty yards to the pond. Of course he couldn't but he did
establish he was faster than stink. Of course the problem is you
are only faster if you keep moving. The bank of the pond was
slippery in the way that mud usually is but Donnie dug his toes
into the mud for traction and leaped into the water. He landed on
his belly, sending tidal waves over the floating cow turds. He had
been holding his overalls so he tossed them on the bank to dry
then sat on the bank beside them. The sun warmed him and the
mud, and was quite comfortable as he lay on the bank of the pond
reviewing his unsuccessful attempt at playing the family bull. The
warm mud oozed up between his cheeks and into his crack. He
discovered he was gyrating his behind which produced a rather
pleasant sensation. No wonder potty training was such a bitch.
Slickery shit between your butt cheeks ain't half bad. His Mr.
Wiggly, who had gone into shock, now ventured back out and
was staring up at him with it's one swollen eyed smile.
END PART ONE
His front side was beginning to get a little hot in the sun so he
rolled over to warm his back. Doing so he found Mr. Wiggly,
now a respectable four or five incher, uncomfortably jabbed onto
the warm mud. Seeking a more comfortable position he poked a
hole in the soggy bank and inserted his stiff protrudance into it.
Whether by design or accident, he found the sensation rather
gratifying. The gyrations returned. It would have been truly
magical if he had not had to stop right at the best part to add some
water to the mud hole. The slick clay mud was beginning to
irritate his sensitive member. He finally gave up on the mud hole
idea. He waded into waist deep water to wash the mud off his
complaining weenie and out of the crack of his ass. It was then he
made his big discovery.
The pond water, warmed by the afternoon sun was stimulating,
even if Donnie didn't know the word. He began to rub the wet
slick mud from his responding appendage. Not bad, he thought,
as he gripped his rigid penis and stroked it to restore it's luster.
Long after it was clean he continued cleaning it. Then the miracle
occurred and he was given sudden divine insight into the bull,
rooster, boar, and all the other male species he observed humping
all over the farm. It was then some creature from outer space took
over his body. His legs went rigid. He was tightening his butt
and pushing Mr. Wiggly out in front of him. One hand was
pressing against the hollow of his thigh while the other hand beat
the water like an attacking school of piranha. The attack stopped
and he found he quit breathing. He gulped in a long breath. The
bull was on to something.
Donnie, an intelligent lad, figured the mud was unnecessary, as
was the hand which had been cleaning his magic wand. His legs
became less stiff and slowly his toes uncurled from the soft mud at
the bottom of the pond. Great discoveries often come by chance
and while this didn't rank up there with penicillin, it was damn
close.
Smug in his new discovery, he extracted himself from the pond
and pulled on his overalls, nonchalantly fastening only one side.
Even on the farm you got to show a little style now and then. He
strolled along the path back to the barn, reflecting on this newly
acquired knowledge. He still had to let Bossie lose.
Donnie was barefooted. Without thinking about it, he
automatically side stepped the nettle bushes that made a hell of a
whelp and itched furiously if you bumped one. One could piss on
the whelp and it helped stop the itching. There are some places on
one's body one couldn't piss (behind your ear is kinda' tough) and
some circumstances (like on the school buss) could be a little
awkward. Best just avoid the nettle bushes.
He discarded the cow as a love object. She was down right
dangerous, briefly thinking about the pigs but quickly culled them
too. They were not much better. He could see himself on his
knees in the pig lot trying to corner one of the sows. He was busy
wishing they had a flock of sheep to flock when the unfortunate
chicken stepped into his path. She was not exactly a cock tease
but damn fetching as chickens go. She was attempting to peck a
grasshopper but was destined to be the peckee instead of the
pecker. The predator became the prey. The more fortunate
grasshopper got away, the less fortunate chicken did not.
He returned to the barn with his catch under one arm and, using
his other, climbed the wooden ladder leading to where they stored
hay for the winter. It was ordinary as hay lofts go, just a wood
floor which was the ceiling from below and the exposed tin of the
roof. The tin was held down by nails with lead heads. The lead
would flatten when hammered and become water tight. You could
see light coming through some places where the lead heads of the
nails had come off and allowed the nails to rust. Actually, they
hadn't just come off. Donnie had pried them off, then melted the
lead to make fishing weights. Understandably the explanation
given to grandpa was a little different.
Several inches of thick straw covered the floor. The place wasn't
exactly a love palace, more like the motel 6 of chicken fuckers. It
had a dusty, musty smell now but when they stored the fresh hay
it would smell sweet with the newly cut clover. Into this love
haven Donnie brought his love chicken.
In the hay loft he settled down behind a couple of bales of hay.
These were away from the wooden doors of the loft where, in
winter hay was thrown out for the evening feeding. The next
seconds were somewhat awkward. He fumbled with the hook to
his overalls while trying to corral the distraught chicken. She was
becoming more distraught the more he fumbled, no doubt already
pissed off at being snatched away from her grasshopper.
At last his oversized overalls dropped to the floor. Donnie stood
there in all his juvenile glory, overalls around his feet. His cotton
white ass shinned brightly except for one or two spots of clay mud
he had missed. He stepped out of one leg of his overalls and stood
spraddled legged, a boy warrior, ravage, rape, pillage and
plunder. To the victor goes the spoils, including fair damsels and
chickens.
His penis was in battery and pointed down range. He now had the
problem of aligning the barrel of the deadly weapon with his
target. Everything was ready. Donnie could now devote both
hands to his captured fowl. Still, he wasn't "out of the woods,"
as he had to find out where to jab his tumescent weenie. He was
off to a good start because he knew it had to be at the back but it
was not nearly as obvious as Bossie's twat. That particular twat
had winked at him enticingly from under her swishing tail. It took
some more seconds to find the door to the egg-plant buried among
the shitty red feathers. Of course, if it had been a White Leghorn
instead of a Road Island Red the entrance would have been more
obvious. Donnie forged ahead undaunted.
At last Donnie nudged the head of his instrument into the parted
feathers and plunged into the startled chicken. Later, Donnie
would learn to hold his partner lower and tilted slightly upward,
but being the first time he didn't appreciate the potential damage of
flailing chicken legs. He suffered sufficient indignities to his still
juvenile balls that he dropped the frustrated fowl. He was unable
to retrieve the squawking bitty as his feet became entangled in his
overalls. The bird jumped from the loft. She was to large to fly,
but was able to use her wings to bring herself to an un-lady like
landing against the far wall. She staggered around, addled for a
second or two, then the enamored bird escaped, squawking out the
back door. Outside, she hopped around in circles while
rearranging her ruffled feathers until satisfied she was once more
presentable. Since chickens don't hold grudges it was "forgive
and forget." She soon resumed her pursuit of the elusive
grasshopper from which she had been so rudely interrupted,
promptly putting Donnie out of her mind. He was not to be that
easily forgotten.
Meanwhile Donnie had picked the straw out of his crack and was
shaking both legs, trying to get the remaining straw to fall from his
trousers. Donnie was not a quitter. Once he settled on an idea his
pursuit became somewhat intractable. He set off after another
chicken, after all, there is more than one fish in the sea or hen in
the hen house. He considered going for the gusto, one of the hens
setting on a clutch of eggs in the chicken yard, but had second
thoughts. Sitting hens are rather maternal about those things and
have a nasty pecker, the one that would have teeth if chickens had
teeth. He envisioned the darting red head impaling his rigid digit
and wisely went after a less aggressive and unsuspecting New
Hampshire Red. It was not that Donnie was disrespectful of age
but he figures the fat old biddy would not be as quick as a young
pullet. At his age, Donnie was not prejudiced. He would
eventually share his experience with the whole flock.
Returning to the loft, Donnie was now both older and wiser, well,
mostly just wiser. Now he not only dropped his overalls to the
hay but stepped out of them completely, ready if need be for quick
pursuit. Of course it proved more practical. He could lie on his
back and impale the squawking chicken up and down on his
appreciative pecker or sit up and still hammer away. In his
innocence he figured he could retrieve his sweetheart if she tried to
escape. At any rate, it wasn't necessary and with experienced
hands he parted the stained feathers and inserted himself into the
warmth of the egg factory. Donnie registered surprised at the heat
inside the hen and considered withdrawing but his petulant pecker
adapted quickly and soon the warm chicken was quite
comfortable. That is, it was comfortable to Donnie. The chicken
seemed anything but comfortable and was looking over it's
shoulder, or more correctly wing, with eyes that alternated
between curiosity and downright malevolence.
Donnie lay back, legs spread wide, and furiously pumped the
chicken up and down on his appreciative pole. Closing his eyes
he felt the approaching ecstasy. His cheeks tightened and he thrust
upward so "big mama" got the full benefit of his banging away.
He wasn't sure what to call it but it was the same as when he was
in the pond, just before he went rigid and curled his toes into the
mud. It was intoxicating. It would also prove to be habit
forming, for him. The chickens never seemed to get the hang of
it. The feathers tickled his balls as he increased the tempo of the
rising and falling chicken, which was rapidly growing both dizzy
and seasick. If he would have looked into her eyes he would have
seen something close to panic. Mother had never told her about
anything like this. Donnie felt himself arching his butt upward to
add to his penetration.
By this time the stricken fowl had decided enough was enough and
in a supreme effort raised one wing and pecked Donnie smartly on
the middle finger. The timing was inauspicious for Donnie's
entrapped love object as he was not about to be interrupted a
second time. He merely slipped his other hand around the neck of
the struggling bird. In fact, he choked his chicken. It was a
classic example of choking your chicken while choking your
chicken. This expression would later gain prominence among
truckers who regularly choked their chickens at roadside pickle
parks. Of course this apparent paradox was lost on Donnie. He
was now rigid as a two by four. The flopping chicken, now in it's
death throes, added immensely to the cumulative affect.
The climax to the climax was that Donnie improved his bedroom
manners. The chicken population just could not support his
"chicken choking" habit so he forcing him to modify his seductive
approach. In the future he did not quite throttle the birds although
his grandmother remarked about the abnormal offset some of the
chicken necks were getting. One other benefit Donnie gained was
an unbelievable quickness of foot. Indeed, while chickens may be
stupid, they were smart enough to run like hell when Donnie
approached with a gleam in his eyes. The outcome of the matter
was that: One, the number of chickens with fractured necks
mysteriously increased thus adding to the chicken fat in the family
diet and: two, Donnie would star for three years in high school
football as "Chicken Legs Dugan."
END PART TWO
Chapter Two
Climbing in the van for the short drive downtown, Donnie still
shivered, his skin adjusting to the penetrating, cold, damp air. He
had just gotten off work, then run by the apartment to change into
something more casual. Suits and ties are OK, but he still
preferred the freedom of jeans and a pull-over. Further hampered
him today was the heavy leather duster. On a practical level a
duster was quite warm. It also gave him creditability with the local
cowboy mentality. He hurried, wanting to get to city hall before
they closed for the evening. He had only two week ends before
Christmas to locate his little friend.
The sun had melted the ice from the streets, leaving slick spots that
would freeze again. Cornering would be treacherous tomorrow
morning. Navigating the slick streets was not a big problem,
about the same as the muddy dirt roads he had grown up on.
There isn't enough annual ice and snow in north Texas to educate
drivers on how to drive in that kind of weather. They just bang
into each other until the weather clears, sort of like real life bumper
cars. Insurance adjusting was a booming business this time of the
year. They even closed some larger businesses when it snowed.
It made some sense, workers either called in sick or ran over each
other on the way to work. Strange place, Texas.
Little crystals of ice formed on the windshield winning, their war
with the defroster. Donnie wiped a spot in the middle of the
drivers side, giving him a view like a knot hole in a wooden fence.
Silently he rooted for the defroster to win. He couldn't see shit
behind him but he compensated by driving faster than everyone
else. The streets were not particularly crowded and he had only to
contend with the few traffic lights. The mufflers were throaty and
somewhat loud by adult standards. He added the "cherry bomb"
mufflers along with duels immediately after buying the van, some
things you just don't give up. He liked the staccato tone of the
glass packs, another relic of times past. It was a tie to his youth
and like other such ties, he would not sever it. The automatic
choke kept the engine revved during it's warm up cycle, which
wasn't likely to occur before he got down town. He guessed he
should have used the Vet since it was already warm, but the van
offered certain other conveniences. One never knows when they
may come in handy.
Donnie was no longer into the decibel contests that required mega-
watt amps. Bass had become the new medium of "stereo," and he
had added two fifteen inch woofers. It was "in" with the younger
crowd, besides he liked it more than he admitted. The blasting
Heavy Metal sounds of yester-years had destroyed his auditory
appreciation of the high notes. Now he listen to the woofers
kicking out the abrupt thumps of John Fogerty. Boys and their
toys! He could have added extra points with the local "cow lot"
crowd if he listened to Clint Black or Merele Haggard but he
preferred the tunes he grew up with.
Clearance Clearwater Revival was in the middle of "Rolling on a
River" when he curbed the van in front of city hall. He twisted the
rear view mirror to check his hair. The unruly and slightly curly
locks were windblown but he figured the wind would just blow
them again. Taking deep gulps of brisk winter air, he hurry
inside, his skin shivering then welcoming the warmth of the
office. Nothing like Christmas in Texas. You can stand in mud
up to your chin and still get dust in your face.
Christmas is always a special season but more so for Donnie,
because each Christmas he makes a new little friend through Toys
for Tots. In his town the system worked by families signing up at
City Hall. It was a bureaucracy like all government but he was
smart enough to work within the system, not against it. You really
can't fight city hall... successfully. When the Toy's for Tots list is
cleared with the welfare office, the list is available for
organizations to select families to help with toys or clothes.
Usually it is churches and such that use the list for needy families
but Donnie found it very helpful. With it he located deserving
boys to help that may otherwise be in for a dreary Christmas. The
list didn't give a lot of information but enough to narrow the field
to two or three families that looked promising.
It was about ten minutes to closing time and the pasted on smile,
so familiar on the faces of bureaucratic receptionists, looked both
waxy and droopy. That was a good sign. If she was ready to go
home he may not get the "cluster fuck" associated with
government agencies and she may try to help him just to get him
on his way. He was not interested in idle chit chat or making the
"tour" of "you need to see Mr. So and So." The real problem with
government agencies is they have you by the "cajones." They
have a product and you have to see them or else, so manners
become dispensable window dressing. When you have the only
game in town you don't have to be polite, Hell, you don't even
have to be there. He wasn't real sure but he thought he might have
an attitude about government agencies. Screwing on his most
charming smile, he explain to the lady how he wanted to help a
family, and if they had children the same age as his nephews it
would be nice as "we might have some clothes our children have
outgrown." This wasn't exactly true, but "What the Hell," it was
close enough for government work. Anyway, it served to explain
his interest only in families with boys, a topic of growing
sensitivity.
He got the "Oh, how nice to think of others at Christmas" spiel
which is OK to hear but he had more insight into human nature
than that. We don't do things for other people. We do things for
ourselves, always. Man is selfish. The choices that we make are
always those choices that bring us the most satisfaction or reduce
the guilt of some other choice. Doing things for other people have
the ulterior motive of pleasing ourselves, giving one the "warm
fuzzes," or so one can hear "Oh, how nice to think of others at
Christmas." Donnie knew all one's actions have a personal pay
off or we don't do them. Fortunately most people don't look
beyond the surface. This doesn't make the thing bad. It is just
"naive," to think we ever make a decision that isn't the preferred
choice.
"Thank you. I just want to give back to society some of the
blessings of the year. You know, we sometimes forget how
fortunate we are," he tells the waxy face, continuing his award
winning smile. He was thinking how he would like to get on with
it, growing impatient with the meaningless social amenities. The
little muscles that held up the corners of his mouth were beginning
to ache.
"Here is our list Sir. We got it back from welfare this morning. I
can run you copies of any names you need if you hurry. We are
about to close you know," more waxy, pasty smile.
"Oh. I hadn't noticed the time. I'll scan it real quick. I know
how things are when it's time to go home." The muscles
complained further as he added a little lift to the corners. Reading
the list he could stop smiling. He pushed against the inside of his
cheeks with his tongue, stretching the muscles to stop the ache.
Reviewing the Zeroxed forms he found three families that merited
further study. All were single parent families and had
predominantly boys in the younger ages. A Mrs. Baxter lived in
an apartment with eleven children, nine boys, sounded like a
bigger project than he could afford and a bit awkward for his
purposes. There is a Mrs. Johnson living in an apartment with a
son Jerome, and a Mrs. Barbara Brenner that lives with her twelve
year old son in a camper trailer behind someone's house. He read
it again and it clearly stated, camper trailer, that's smaller than a
mobile home. He had used one once when deer hunting and it had
just enough room for a bed, sink and table to eat on, not even a
bathroom. Sure didn't sound adequate to live in on a full time
basis, and two people at that.
Thanking the lady for her time, he took the copies of the addresses
of three families back to the van. He looked at them again, then
decided there was no time like the present to narrow the field.
The windshield finally cleared. Three cheers for the defroster.
About damn time. Now if he could only see out the side mirrors.
Oh well, just drive fast.
He drove toward Will Heights addition. The first address was an
apartment on Center street, Hillcrest Villa. He found the address.
It was much like he expected, rough and rundown. They lived on
the second floor. He climbed the stairs, dodging toys and trash,
then located 221. It was no easy chore but he figured 221 must be
two doors from 219, the closest door with a number. The door
was closed but he could see through the windows that the place
had known better times. The TV was much to loud for adult
consumption suggesting the mother is not home yet.
Donnie knocked a second time to be heard over the "Rap" music
blasting from the room. He never gained any appreciation for MC
Hammer. Finally a little girl sporting a black shiny face and pig
tails comes to the door. Opening the door, she looked up at him
like he came to cut off the utilities or something. Time for another
smile.
"Hi Hon. Is your mother home? I'm from the Toys for Tots.
Your mother signed you up for Christmas." By this time several
other children had gathered around and the head count was
considerable more than the eleven listed for Mrs. Baxter. Oh well,
he supposed it looks good on the ADC check.
"Nah. She ain't here. She beez at work," one of the older
children tells him," several smaller kids in diapers hanging onto
her arm.
"O.K. You will probably be hearing from some other people,"
Donnie told her. "I just want to check today."
The Villa apartments was only a few blocks away. He parked in
the rear near the entrance to the poorly kept courtyard. The row of
numbered doors was a help as he searched for 133, a vapor trail of
fried chicken drifting behind him. The woman answering the door
was either old or a high mileage model. She patiently listened to
his spiel about the Toys for Tots and how he was getting an idea
what the families needed. Their conversation drifted to the
children and she explained they were grandchildren that lived with
her because of family problems but should be moving home soon.
The girl is sixteen and the boy fourteen. "No, they are both out
but maybe they will be here when he comes next time." Thanking
the lady. Donnie made a mental note this would not be a good
possibility. He looked at his watch and decided there was still
time to check out the last one.
It was getting late but he wanted to meet Mrs. Brenner and her boy
if he could find the address. The form showed she lived on a
street he was not familiar with but it listed a neighbor's phone for
information. He figured the fastest way to locate her would be
calling for directions so he stopped at a convenience store. He
marveled that any pay phone still operated for a dime. He fished
for change, deposited it and was eventually rewarded with a
connection.
END PART FOUR
A woman answered and he explains about the Toys for Tots thing
then asked about Mrs. Brenner who gave her address as a camper
behind the house. "Yes, Mrs. Brenner lives there with her boy.
Yes, she is in and no, it's not to late to come over." She finally
got around to giving him her address.
"Yes Tmam. I think I can find it. I'll be right over."
The address took him to an older part of town, dark streets and
generally run down. It obviously wasn't very high on the city's
maintenance list or else they couldn't keep street lights replaced
fast enough. The woman had said the last house on the street
before it dead ends. Donnie could make out what appeared to be
the end of the street and the outline of a building on the right side.
There was no street light. As he came closer he saw the house and
dim lights through the windows, or maybe it was light through
dim windows, either way there was damn little light. He parked in
front of a frame house that was definitely in it's declining years.
There were sags in the roof and a patchwork addition on both
ends, no outside lights. It was kinda' spooky.
He flipped off the interior light, not wanting to draw any attention
to himself and was stepping out when the thought of dogs
occurred to him. Shit, just what he needed, some mongrel
gnawing his leg off. It seemed quiet enough to walk to the porch
but the was a knot developing in his stomach. He left the van door
open just in case he had to make a hasty retreat.
The front door was of the yesterday variety with two glass panes
that hadn't seen water since put in. Hell, he thought, they may be
older than water. He could make out a TV going, but otherwise
the room appears dark inside. Well, might as well find out what
I'm dealing with, he decided, and knocked on the door frame. He
doubted he could be heard over the TV but maybe they saw him
drive up.
Someone stood up from a couch and moved in front of the TV so
Donnie guessed his knock had been heard or maybe the creaking
boards on the porch had announced him. Between the curtain and
dirty window pane he could see a form growing larger as it
approached. It looks adult size. The woman answering the door
is definitely farming stock. From her looks it must have had a
rough day. OK. It's show time, he thought, big smile now.
"Hello. I'm Donnie Dugan and I have the name of Mrs. Brenner
and her son from Toys for Tots. I wanted to drop by and meet
them. Is Mrs. Brenner home?"
"Yeah, wait a minute. Barbara! Some man here to see you," she
shouts toward the kitchen, retreating back to the couch and the
blaring TV. Crotchety old fart he was thinking as he waited for
someone called Barbara to come from somewhere. He couldn't
tell much about whoever had answered the door but she wasn't the
welcome wagon lady. He sensed the floor vibrating. Either she
had a weight problem or the pier and beam was about to go. He
involuntarily looked behind him but it was someone walking
through the darkened kitchen. The strobe-like light from the TV
showed a woman perhaps in her thirties and with a lot of wear and
tear from what he could make out. She did not have a weight
problem, must be the pier and beams. He guessed she must have
had a rough life and he was a good estimator of that sort of thing.
His estimate would prove correct.
"Hello. You must be Mrs. Brenner. I'm from Toys for Tots and
we have your name listed, signing you up with the program for
some assistance with Christmas this year. I believe you have a
son. Maybe we can help. May I come in?" He wasn't sure he
wanted to but it seemed like the thing to say.
"Yeah, you mean Joshua, just a minute and I'll get him," she told
him. Ms. Brenner was no longer attractive but had the appearance
of having been before her trip meter turned over a couple of times.
She probably could still be but it would require a bank loan to roll
off some hard miles.
She called for "Josh" and in a few seconds a young lad came from
either the back of the house or maybe from the camper. He was
average height, for twelve, slender, but not much else was
discernible in the dim light. From the observable conditions his
definite impression was they could use some help.
"Hi, Josh. I'm from Toys for Tots. You are signed up for some
help with Christmas. I wanted to meet you and see how I could
help. Look, Mrs. Brenner, I know it's late but if Josh can go out
for a few minutes why don't we go for a malt or something. I can
get to know him a little and maybe get an idea what he wants or
needs for Christmas. We can go to the Dairy Queen and be back
in a few minutes."
"Oh sure, that will be OK." That she answered with no hesitation,
almost to fast registered with Donnie. It was a fleeting impression
but Donnie picked up on it. "Josh. Why don't you go with him
for a malt? You would like that wouldn't you? Be sure and tell
him you need a coat."
"OK. That's fine Mom," Josh replied turning around. "Let me
see if I can find a sweater or something." He walked toward the
back of the house or where ever he came from.
"Use Tony's. We still have to get you one," she called after him,
giving Donnie the impression the statement was more for his
benefit than Josh's. The thought of Josh without a coat did have
an affect. Donnie had grown up without many of the extras but he
always had a coat of some sort. He would see Josh got a coat.
Josh returned and Donnie guessed it must be Tony's coat or at
least the original owner was not Josh, unless they bought it nine
sizes to big and he had worn it since he was five.
Driving to Dairy Queen, the conversation was somewhat awkward
but having been around a lot of kids Donnie kept it going,
selecting topics he hoped would interest Josh. They talked about
school and motorcycles and horses. Donnie figured out horses
real quick from the cowboy shirt, gaudy belt buckle and Josh's
horrible use of English. He spoke "red-neck," reminding Donnie
of backwoods Arkansas and Oklahoma where English was almost
a foreign language.
Although not very talkative, Donnie learned a lot about him on the
way for malts, some from what Josh said but more from his
mannerisms and how he conducted himself. He was polite but
most unpolished. His voice was raspy one minute then one octave
higher the next, it was a little early at twelve unless Josh was an
early developer. Of course he could be twelve years and eleven
months which would be close to average. Donnie figured he knew
about where the boy was in his physical development. He should
have a fair patch of pubic hair started and his juvenile dick should
show definite signs of growth. He should be smooth except for
the little bush. Donnie was feeling an immense attraction to the
boy that would soon be embarrassing if he didn't try to rearrange
it. Josh was an only boy of a rather bazaar relationship. Much
of this he assumed. It came with the territory. If things were not
"honked up" at home Donnie wouldn't be here in the first place.
There were many possible combinations. Father drunk, father in
jail, run off or something and Mom up to her chin and taking on
water. If she hadn't abandoned ship she soon wood. The
dynamics seldom changed. They produced a mother that had to do
something with her kid and a kid who needed loving. Donnie
would find out later this deal was a little more screwed than most.
For now he seemed just another poor kid whose world revolved
around TV, a small group of friends, and dreaming of being a
rodeo star.
The Dairy Queen parking lot was almost empty when they pulled
in. Most of the kids hung out at the "Sonic" but Donnie
intentionally avoided a crowd tonight. He wanted a little more
privacy. At the Sonic he was too well know and a bunch of kids
who knew him would come over to talk. Josh might be
uncomfortable with that. It was a cool place to hang and he
figured he and Josh would go there after their relationship was
farther along. For now the Dairy Queen would serve their
purpose.
The bright neon lights shown through the windshield giving them
a better look at each other. Donnie saw a boy five foot or so,
slender body and probably wiry but not skinny. His hair looked
dark blonde in the neon light and it was difficult to tell the exact
shade of his blue eyes. He was, or could be, handsome as hell.
Instead he was trying to be a twelve year old "Marlboro" man and
was having trouble pulling of the rugged look. Still, he would
make a hell of a pubertal Tom Sellek. With a little spiffin' up and
new duds the kid would be border line bodacious. If it worked
out he would get a closer look tomorrow when he tried on clothes.
Yup, this definitely was his "project" kid for Christmas and maybe
more.
"Pick us out a table Josh, I'll get the malts. I'm gonna' get
chocolate. What do you want? You can have a burger or
something to eat if you want."
"Yeah. Chocolate is fine for me too. I'm not really hungry," and
again the delightful crackle in his voice. Donnie smiled and like a
mirror, Josh smiled back. It was not a calculated smile, like
Donnie so often used, but spontaneous and open, the kind that
warms you up inside.
END PART FIVE
Waiting at the counter, Donnie glanced back to look at Josh. He
was sitting with his hands crossed on top the table and watching
Donnie. Josh grinned again when he noticed Donnie looking.
Donnie looked away, not wanting Josh to feel he was being
appraised, like a side of beef, but Josh's did not seem embarrassed
at the attention. He knew boys liked and needed adult approval
and Josh would respond well to his attention. He concluded
correctly. Josh had little contact with men in his daily routine and
would soak up acceptance like a sponge.
To be calculating is not necessarily to be cold. Donnie was
certainly not cold about Josh, to the contrary, quite hot, but he had
a goal in mind and the faster he understood Josh the faster he
would get there. He was a good observer, adding up bits of
information, accumulating a profile of Josh Brenner.
Donnie inclination was to sit beside Josh where maybe a random
movement would let them touch. To Soon, so he elected to sit
instead opposite him. This wouldn't permit much touching but
would let him search Josh's eyes and expressions. Across from
someone is more formal and in some settings, like business,
considered confrontational but to sit beside Josh at such a small
table would imply a familiarity they had not established. Had it
not been public Donnie would have chanced it but better wait. It
was hard. He wanted to touch the boy. Instead Donnie sat across
the table but leaned toward Josh to make their conversation more
personal.
Donnie was not the only one accumulating data. Josh too was
sizing up this man that had suddenly showed up at the door but
with less sophistication than Donnie's more analytical assessment.
Josh, like all kids operated on feeling, an intuitive sense of like or
dislike, and he was drawn to the big man. He did not question
why someone would help a kid at Christmas. He was gonna'
help, the why was not important. The guy was not like the church
folks that wanted to exchange their gifts for you coming to church.
He even dressed like Josh, well better of course, but still he wore
jeans like regular folks. He wondered how it would be to live like
regular folks. It was a thought he often had.
Josh had more than one experience with people showing up to
"help." It seemed as far back as he could remember there was a
string of people with some interest in him and his mother. His
mother got a check from the welfare folks which was a license to
meddle in everything they did. Anytime they needed something
they had to go "begging." He hated that. He hated the woman at
the welfare office that always managed to make him feel like he
wasn't a good person because he and his mother needed help. It
wasn't their fault. His mother couldn't help it if she couldn't find
work and always wound up fired. He also hated the men that
hung around his mother, he guessed they gave her money because
she would have money sometimes and she wasn't working. He
envied other boys that went places with their daddies and had a
real family, could shop at real stores and pay with real money
instead of food stamps.
Josh had watched with a some envy as Donnie stood ordering the
malts. Some day he'd have a leather duster and ostrich boots.
Someday he would have a money clip and pay for what ever he
wanted. He wondered about the man sitting down across from
him, like the rest he guessed. He had seen them come and go.
They would show up each year from somewhere and take him out
a time or two and then, when it seemed he had found a real friend,
they stopped coming. Now he was more cautious about showing
his feelings. They all had different names. He guessed this year
they were called Donnie.
"Here you go big guy," Donnie said. "One chocolate malt. It will
probably have to melt some before the straw will do any good.
Say, do you like fishing and stuff? Maybe when it warms up we
can try out my boat, maybe even ski some. It's gonna' have to
warm up a bunch to ski unless you are part Eskimo. Have you
fished before?"
"Yeah. I go with my grandpa some," Josh replied, poking his
straw into the malt. Well, he's not really my grandpa but I have a
rod and reel. What kinda' boat you got?" Donnie saw the shine
in Josh's eyes he was hoping for?
"It's a combination bass and ski boat with a one fifty horse `Black
Max.' Maybe you and I can get a chance to try it out. Tell you
what, how about we go shopping tomorrow... get some dinner
while we are out and talk about what we like to do. We can look
for a coat and get to know each other better. I heard your mother
say you don't have a coat yet and it's already December. Do you
think it will be all right with your mother?" At this point Donnie
was making conversation. He knew damn well it was OK with
"Mom."
"Sure," Josh replies, stirring his malt with his straw. "I'll ask but
I know she won't care. She lets me go 'bout anywhere and
overnight and stuff. I been using Tony's coat, he's my cousin,
and he keeps wanting it back. Sometimes I don't wear a coat to
school but it's not to bad. It's only cold until I can get inside the
school. It's really cold on the mornings I have to walk or when it
rains."
Donnie thought he caught an edge of embarrassment in Josh's
voice or it could have been the crackle from his "in between" vocal
cords. Josh looked at his hands as he continued, running a
thumbnail under the edge of his index finger. Donnie had
broached a subject he probably was self-conscious about, maybe
even kidded by the kids at school. Donnie dropped the subject but
added it to his accumulating list of information. It was a small
thing perhaps but it gave him additional insight into Josh. It
would be a useful predictor. Josh may act like it didn't matter but
there was pain he tried not to let others see.
"Come on Josh," Donnie said as he stood up. "I'll take you back
home. You have home work I bet, and I have work tomorrow.
We don't want to worry anyone by us being out too long and it's a
school night. Bring your malt, we'll finish them in the car on the
way back."
"OK," Josh told him, "but you don't have to worry about nobody
worrying."
The drive back was better. Josh had loosened up and was more
spontaneously, mostly talking about school. Donnie still cringed
occasionally at Joshes use of English. It was worse than the
worse episode of "Beverly Hillbillies." It reminded him of a horse
auction he had gone to. He had gone with a friend that was
looking for a horse for his daughter. They had stood in the
audience with the other buyers and he listened with astonishment.
They almost spoke another language.
Their driveway was hard to see at night so they pulled across at a
place where the ditch appeared to stop and the dirt yard start. The
van lights swept across a lawn mower with the motor off and
weeds growing up through the hole in the frame. Donnie really
wanted to sit and talk but was reminded himself to be patient. It
was only their first meeting. It could be a major mistake to move
to fast. You have to let them adjust to you, which for kids, is a
sensing process rather than a thinking process. Too much, too
quick, becomes too scary.
Josh's mother was watching TV when they walked in and got up
to meet them just inside the door. Donnie asked about him and
Josh going shopping the next evening. She quickly agreed to the
shopping trip and again the impression she was pushing the boy
off. Donnie made a mental note. Most mothers are more guarded,
more protective. It was agreed Donnie would pick him up after
school, around five o'clock. The entire arrangement at the
BrennerUs seemed strange. Donnie was hard pressed to put a
finger on it, nothing he could see, more like a premonition.
OK time to go, Donnie thought. Not much else I can do tonight.
I'd better do a nice guy routine. "Mrs. Brenner it certainly was
nice meeting you and Josh. It's always sad to see such nice
people down on their luck. Maybe the new year will be more
prosperous for you. How would it be if I get him around five
tomorrow?".
"Oh that's just right," she beamed. "He will have time to come in
and clean up." She was pleasant enough, not very talkative,
which suited the hell out of Donnie. As he turned to leave she told
Josh to "walk him to the car so he wouldn't step in any holes."
Donnie figured they had progressed along enough to put his arm
around the boy. In fact he had the definite feeling not only that
"Mom" was watching but approving.
Driving back to the apartment Donnie reviewed the evening with
satisfaction. Three possibilities had been narrowed to one. Josh
was his Christmas project. It was obvious the boy needed some
help with Christmas. Josh hadn't mention any men except a
grandpa but that conclusion was tenuous since it wasn't even clear
who was family. There was the mother, some other woman and
grandpa. Irregardless, Josh did not have a father figure and there
are times when a boy needs a man to talk to. Donnie figured he
could help in that department. Living in a camper trailer was a
strange arrangement too. Why not live in the house? Tomorrow
should be interesting. Between shopping and eating dinner he
planned putting some of this together.
At the edge of sleep that night, where things are surreal, a wispy
puzzle of Josh drifted together in various combinations, reaching
out to him. Id was very creative.
END PART SIX
Josh too had a maze of thoughts free-falling through his mind. He
really liked the man that took him for a malt. He would probably
be like the rest, gone faster than the Christmas candy they always
gave him, but Josh could not help the hoping. The men first
started coming when he was real little. Some came once, others
several times but after Christmas they were the same. They never
came back. Now, he no longer expected them to come back, but
the little hope would not die.
Josh slept with his mother. There was only one bed in the camper
so he guessed it made sense. He had slept with her as long as he
could remember and was only aware it was different when a friend
teased him about it. He learned not to let anyone know, especially
his friends, but he felt a sense of comfort with someone in bed
with him. He slept naked and that too was as long as he could
remember. He learned to leave his underwear on if he slept over.
He liked naked better.
The bad dreams didn't come as frequently but they would still
wake him up sometimes. He knew monsters in your dreams can't
hurt you but you only know that when you are awake. They were
mostly the same, Freddie Kruger types chasing him and he hid,
usually in a cave but always somewhere dark. He would stay
there, in the dark until his father rescued him. It was always his
father rescuing him but not always the same man. Sometimes it
was a coach at school he liked a lot. Sometimes it was a stranger
that had been nice to him. In his dream he would become more
and more terrified until he was rescued or woke up choking with
fright, usually finding he had wet the bed. It didn't seem to
happen as much as it used to. At least the bed-wetting part.
He had never had one, a dad that is, not a real one that lived at
home, but sometimes he imagined he did. Supposedly his dad
lived up north but it wasn't his dad. I mean he didn't fuck Josh's
mother and make Josh. He just fucked her and agreed to get his
name on the birth certificate. His real father was his uncle which
explained why they lived with his grandmother. But his real father
didn't want him 'cause he was married and had children he really
wanted. Joshua was just a fuck that got screwed up.
Chapter Three
There was an unusual amount of things to take care of at the office
but there always was when you are trying to get on to better and
more exciting things. It was his own office and his own business
but Donnie was aggressive and did not put off work that was
waiting to be done. Finally Donnie was loosening his tie on his
way out the door He asked Janet to lock up then stepped outside.
The afternoon sun had warmed the pavement and only little
puddles told the recent rain and ice. Donnie had driven the van to
work so, when he picked Josh up, it should be warm. He stayed
at the apartment only long enough to change out of the tie and grab
a casual jacket.
Josh's house by day was as depressing as by night, maybe more
so. There were weeds over most of the yard, at least where they
weren't worn away to dirt and mud. It was an old house, hard to
date, but probably older than Donnie and not nearly as well
preserved. It had the structure of houses built during the
depression, long open porch across the front supported by posts
and a roof with a sag like a swayback horse. The remnants of a
couple of old cars stuck up above the weeds behind the house. A
garage or shed was stuck off to one side. It wasn't the age of the
house that struck him as much as the obvious lack of concern of its
dwellers, either folks who had given up pride in their person or
whipped down by society to the point of not really giving a shit.
Donnie has seen it many times and suspected Josh's perspective
of the world was like the rat trying to keep from drowning. It's
hard to remember you came to drain the swamp when you are up
to your ass in alligators and the little guy was definitely up to his
ass in alligators.
In the light Donnie noticed a part of the ditch did have a culvert
with some dirt pulled across it. He hesitated before pulling into
the muddy driveway then decided to pull only part way in, leaving
the rear tires on the gravel. Stepping from the truck he picked his
way across the puddles. Once on the porch he noticed mud on his
shoes and stomped it off before knocking. Knocking really
wasn't necessary. His stomping should have got everyone's
attention.
The door opened immediately and he put on his best smile again.
"Hello. I'm Donnie Dugan. I came by last night and Josh and I
went for a malt. We were going shopping this evening. Do you
know if he is ready?"
The woman at the door was old and weather cracked, definitely
grandma material. She either didn't have or didn't believe in false
teeth. The inward gaping orifice under her nose looked vaguely
familiar and it took him a couple seconds to place it. It had been
under the tail of a jersey cow, his first love. He wasn't sure what
he expected, but it was some response instead of the blank
expression. He started to repeat himself, thinking he had not
registered, when she mumbled something and went away. He
decided her barrel was a pickle short. Not invited in, he waited by
the door. Someone called out for Josh and Donnie could feel the
floor vibrating again.
Donnie stepped back as the door opened and Josh came out on the
porch. Donnie's smile was genuine as he greeted him. The boy
looked great. His clothes were well worn but clean and he had
tried to shine his old boots. He wasn't crazy about the cowboy hat
but he looked super in his jeans and cowboy shirt. Josh returned
the smile and some curls of blonde hair were visible from under
the hat. Josh certainly gave the expression, "good enough to eat
new meaning." Instead he suggested Josh tuck in his shirt tail,
trying not to show undue interest as the big cowboy belt buckle
unhooked, and he flopped open the top of his Levis. His shirt tail
tucked in, Josh pulled the belt back together and hooked it,
looking up at Donnie for approval. "Hey much better Big Guy,"
Donnie told him. "You really look slick today."
"I tried to shine my boots," Josh said, "but they just won't take
any polish. Grandma had washed my pants and shirt but I ironed
them just before you got here."
"Come on," Donnie told him, walking toward the Van. "Let's go
shopping and get something to eat while we are out. Anybody that
looks as good as we do needs to be seen. What do you want to do
first, shop or eat?"
Josh waited until he had climbed into the other side before
replying. "Let's go shopping first. I don't usually eat supper this
early. Where are we gonna' go?" "I know where there is an
outlet for Lee jeans and shirts, lot of cowboy stuff. Lets go there
first and see what they have. We can probably find what we want.
They have all sort of western stuff. I figure that's what you like.
Looks like your hat needs steaming and blocking. They do that
too."
Donnie was a practical person, sometimes to the extreme, still his
tendency to be cautious had left him with a degree of financial
security. He had made real estate investments and over time had
done quite well. He was not lavish in his taste but usually bought
quality which ultimately gave him better service. The Western
Outlet was a good example. Many of his friends would not dream
of shopping anywhere but the Western Store with the much higher
prices but Donnie was very content to save the extra fifty percent
from the outlet and still wear the same labels as his friends. He
was a practical man, at least most of the time. He was also a
schemer.
The outlet was on the other side of town. Traffic was typical for
the time of day, clogging the few blocks that had been widened to
two lanes. Even so, the town was small so heavy traffic here was
a walk in the park after driving in Chicago and 'Frisco. Donnie let
the conversation take it's natural course, feeling no need to select
the topics. There would be plenty of time to fish for needed
information. Josh was "jamming" and although it was louder than
he preferred, Donnie understood the value of tolerance. It was not
the time to sound like a parent.
The outlet had gone in where a warehouse had closed. It was
large and open, with racks and racks of clothes. He knew to
inspect the material for seconds but also that many showed no
evidence of flaws. He was careful to pick these and as a result
always god good value for his money.
He led Josh back to the rear of the store where they had the boys
section and separate dressing rooms. To keep down overhead the
store was mostly self-help which suited Donnie fine. He had
become accustomed to helping himself. Donnie and Josh sorted
through clothes with Donnie slowly getting an idea of what Josh
liked. He checked the label on Josh's Levis, size twelve slim.
The shirt should be a twelve also.
At times like this Donnie was frequently given to excess so he
cautioned himself not to over-do things. If he and Josh were a
good match they could always come back. They decided on a
couple pair of pants, two shirts, socks, and of course underwear.
The underwear figured in most importantly in Donnie's plans.
Josh would have to be butt naked to try on underwear and this
Donnie intended to see. Finally, clothes over their arms they
headed toward the dressing room, Donnie's pulse rate increasing
slightly in anticipation of at last seeing Josh naked. The dressing
stall was small but there was room for both of them provided they
stood. If one of them bent down they would almost surely touch.
Donnie's mind arranged, and rearranged possible events. He and
Christmas boys had been here before. It is called situational
correctness. He knew people would perform behavior in one
situation that was totally unacceptable in another. He had found
this phenomenon even more profound with hypnosis, where it
became necessary only to suggest a situation and the appropriate
behavior became acceptable. What was more natural than
undressing in a dressing room? Josh might be a little
uncomfortable but all the pressure would be for him to undress.
After all, isn't this a dressings room? Donnie would make it very
casual, helping him get his jeans off, hanging them on the peg,
checking the fit, the sort of things a man would do if helping his
son. Patting and touching was to be expected.
END PART SEVEN
"Try these pants on Josh," Donnie told him, hoping the excitement
didn't show. "I know what the label says but I learned a long time
ago not to go by the labels. Lets be sure they fit. Here, let me
help. Take your shirt off, we may as well see how you look in
your new shirt and pants."
Donnie moved to give Josh some extra room but did not offer to
leave the booth. Busying himself with unbuttoning Josh's shirt,
Donnie did not appear interested in the proceedings. Josh began
unfastening his pants. When Donnie had his shirt undone pulled it
over his head with out hesitation. He showed no concern with
being naked, at least from the waist up.
Donnie had figured no underarm hair and he was right. Josh was
smooth. There was some definition of chest and arms but mostly
he was smooth and slender. His nipples were rouge color,
becoming buds that caused one's mouth to water Donnie wasn't
aware he was staring until Josh looked up.
"Here, let me hang up your shirt. We might as well try everything
on, slip out of your pants, too."
Josh unhooked his belt and Donnie watched as he twisted the top
button of his pants, pulling them apart. He unsnapped the top and
began working his way down, exposing more and more of his
white jockey shorts. Finishing, he pulled them over his buttocks,
bending over to pull them off. At this point he was having some
trouble as he had not taken off his boots and the jeans were to
tight.
"Sit down Josh," Donnie told him, indicating the corner bench.
I'll help you with the boots," and Donnie moved in front where he
could get a hold of Josh's boots.
Josh sat down on the bench and pulled his knees up toward his
chest so Donnie could pull the boot from the heel. He repeated the
process with the other boot and soon Josh was sitting with his
pants past his knees. Josh had held on the bench seat to keep from
being pulled off and could not help when his pants came most the
way off, pulling down his underwear in the process. Donnie tried
to be nonchalant about the sudden unveiling of Josh's private parts
but it was impossible not to stare at the exposed appendage,
flopping around, as Josh fought to keep from falling off the
bench.
Josh looked at Donnie seeking a clue if he was suppose to be
embarrassed or recover his underwear, cover himself or what.
Josh was not embarrassed for himself but did not want Donnie to
think bad about him. Donnie figured acknowledging Josh's dick
was better than acting like it was something not to talk about.
"That's a dangerous weapon you are carrying around between you
legs," Donnie said letting a note of admiration creep into his voice.
"Don't pull that out in the cow lot or you'll make the bulls
jealous." Josh looked pleasingly embarrassed. "Come on. You
need to try on the underwear anyway. Just hold on and I'll help
you off with the pants." Donnie was tugging on the pants leg
before Josh had time to think about it. Josh was holding on to the
bench with Donnie pulling at the Levis. Josh's circumcised semi
erect cock flopped around in his lap as they struggled with the
pants. The bed of pubic hair was pretty well developed at the base
of his dick but was a fairly new development. Josh's juvenile
cod's were less developed, pink, and hairless.
His pants at last free, Donnie took the underwear the rest of the
way off so Josh was able to stand. Donnie unwrapped the
underwear and handed Josh a pair of semi-bikinis. They were
silky with a cute cup for a boys dick and balls. Josh pulled them
up and looked at Donnie for comment. They were a good fit.
Josh filled them out perfectly.
Donnie knew at this point he had to touch it. He was gonna' die if
he didn't get his hands on it somehow. "They look good, Josh.
Maybe a little to tight. Underwear that is to tight will cut off the
circulation. I don't guess we want your peter turning blue and
falling off," and with that he slipped his hands inside the leg band
of the underwear. Moving his fingers in the pretense of checking
the band, Donnie rubbed the boys balls and dick. It was a sip of
wine for a wino, a tiny morsel for a starving man and Donnie's
mouth fairly watered in expectation. "Nah, these are all right. We
can get the baggy kind, like you were wearing, if you prefer but
these look better. Turn around and let me see how they fit
behind." The blue silk cloth encased his cute ass like a second
skin.
"I'll wait for you outside," Donnie told him, suddenly aware he
was hot as hell. "You finish dressing and step out so we can see
you in the big mirror."
"These are OK. I like these underwear fine," Josh replied, looking
down at himself. They just feel kinda' of funny. I never had any
like them before but some of the guys at school wear them. I seen
them at P.E. I'll keep these if it's OK," but Donnie was already
outside.
Donnie went out of the booth and stood by the full length mirror
waiting for Josh. Donnie checked himself out in the mirror. Not
bad if I do say so myself. The fellow he saw was well built, a
carry over from football days. He didn't have the muscle bulk he
carried then but kept himself toned. He had an engaging smile and
soft eyes which he used to good advantage. He patted his stomach
and turned sideways to check... yes he still had tight hard buns.
The only bulge was one he had developed in the booth with Josh.
He reached in his pocket and rearranged it. If he was going to
have a hard on it could at least be comfortable.
Josh came out to stand in front of the mirror beside Donnie.
Donnie moved behind Josh, his hands on his shoulders, and
appraised the boy. Damn but he looked sharp in his new duds.
When he looked at Josh's face the boy was smiling, obviously
happy with his new clothes but something else too. They looked
at each other in the mirror, each was grinning, but they were also
struggling with messages that passed within deeper levels of their
ego's. There were no words but their eyes spoke of friendship
and admiration. What or whoever orchestrates the path's of men
and of boys had brought them together. Chance. Fate. They had
found their split apart
Donnie blinked when he realized he was starring. Each had been
momentarily mesmerized. Donnie squeezed Josh's shoulder.
Josh, too, looked away, aware some intimate knowledge has
seeped out. He looked at the reflection of his socks in the mirror,
a small boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"Terrific Josh, Donnie said, breaking the spell. "You can hang out
with me anytime. Go put on your boots and grab your stuff.
We're out of here." As Josh turned to go, Donnie slapped
affectionately at the departing behind. Playfully Josh arched
forward, giggling, as Donnie's hand slapped the air where Josh's
butt had been. "Meet me at the belt's when you come out,"
Donnie called out, "an extra belt won't hurt," and he headed
toward the front of the store where he had spotted belts on the way
in. By the time Josh had joined him, Donnie had picked out three
or four belts he thought Josh would like and in the right size.
They decided on a black one with some cowboy stuff on it but
without the extra big metal buckle. Donnie knew Josh would like
the one with a big rodeo buckle but it was just to much for Donnie.
They agreed on the black belt with a round silver buckle. It looked
nice and was still western. Donnie passed the plastic to the sales
girl and she rang everything up. He considered it a hundred
dollars well spent, an investment if you prefer. Donnie knew he
was on firm footing. It was something a player learned to sense.
Later, sitting in Western sizzling, Donnie felt pride in the
youngster. He was moving the boy toward his image of a son and
companion. Although Donnie was capable of more analytical
work, he rarely dug into his own psyche. He knew who he was
and what he was and used his considerable intelligence to meet
those needs in the safest manner possible. There was always a
best way. He felt a strong and growing attraction for Josh and
knew it was mutual. For the moment, his had the greater sexual
content but that would change with his help.
Donnie had ordered his steak rare. He noticed Josh had ordered
his rare also, probably imitating Donnie. When the steaks arrived
he could tell Josh was not real pleased with the red juice seeping
out and so Donnie sent it back for another few minutes on the grill.
The waiter brought it back nicely charred. Josh showed a
teenagers appetite as he consumed everything along with two
cokes and dessert. How can he have such an appetite and be slim?
Leaving the restaurant, Donnie put his arm around Josh, resting
his hand on the boy's shoulder. Josh looked up acceptingly
without interrupting his story about something that had happened
at school. They walked to the van, each happy with their evening.
Donnie took Josh home and they agreed Donnie would call over
the weekend about a show or something. He gave Josh his
business card and told him it would be all right for him to call if he
wanted both at home or at the office. Maybe they could work in a
short trip somewhere Sunday afternoon. Donnie did not realize he
would see him sooner than Sunday afternoon.
Chapter three
(Modern theories of Personality structure have not really improved
on Freud. The idea of libidinal energy bubbling up from an Id,
therefore, childhood sexuality, fell from grace because society
didn't want to face the idea of children having a sexual nature not
because it was wrong. There is an Id and Donnie's Id wasn't
about to roll over and play dead.)
Id chuckled, not a sadistic chuckle, more a chuckle with a gentle
hint of success. It had been a good day. Sometimes Donnie was a
little stubborn about promptly satisfying Id's urges but today was
most rewarding. He had felt Josh's heat in the small dressing
room, smelled his boyness, had the visual stimulation of looking
over the boy's slim firm body and even managed to fondle his
cock... all serving to make his libidinal juices boil. Id rubbed his
immaterial hands together in satisfaction. He was pleased
indeed...Hum, yes, Progress. Not a bad piece of work. He was
still breathing deeply from the heat of proximity to Josh in the
dressing room. The image of Josh's semi-tumescent appendage
was pure energy, feeding Id's insatiable thirst for stimulation. Id
had sent strong signals to be more direct, to handle the semi-
erected rod, to take it physically. Instead, Super-ego had shouted
a caution, and won the ensuing contest for influence of Donnie's
actions. Id had surrendered, but only after Super-ego promised to
satisfy his demands soon, very soon.
END PART EIGHT
DONNIE
Part 9
Id smiled again in self satisfaction, not a smirk mind you, just
satisfaction Unfortunately Id had no real imagination. He had
been just as satisfied with the chicken in the hayloft. Tonight,
when Donnie slept, Id would be free to replay today's events on
the big dream screen of Donnie's mind, unfettered by reality. He
would experience Josh in unbounded pleasure, giving Donnie a
super "Boner," which Id always got a kick out of. If it was really
a super "hard on" Donnie would have to whack off before going to
work. Donnie always got an erection when Id vicariously
entertained himself in Donnie's unfettered dreams. Id thought
he'd start off with Josh for the early dreams then progress to the
chicken with a little variety thrown in. He'd save the surrealistic
stuff for late morning. Just a little of the content would seep out as
Donnie would wake up, exclaiming, "Shit! that was the weirdest
dream I've had yet.
Id was a schemer, and very dedicated to the proposition that
gratification of self was the prime and primal directive. Since he
didn't need sleep he was free 24 hours a day to plan his strategies.
He was unrelenting in his search for ways to satisfy himself. Not
having a body of one's own was a certain handicap, still one must
do with what one has. If he had his very own body he would be a
dynamo of pure energy, rampaging in search of self gratification.
As it was he had to use Donnie's body and, unfortunately, he was
not in complete control anymore. When Donnie was very small it
had been easy. He just told Donnie what he wanted and Donnie
obliged or screamed until some adult got it for him. He
particularly enjoyed fondling his penis, or "peanut" as he called it
but parents and late grandparents had become insistent he not do it.
Once again Id and Super-ego had negotiated a truce. Donnie could
masturbate but only in the tub or in bed and of course later in the
hayloft, actually any damn place he wasn't likely to be caught. He
was free to satisfy Id when it didn't prove a problem for Super-
ego. Old S-E could be a pain in the ass.
In the triangle of players, each had become quite sophisticated in
getting their way. Donnie learned to manipulate events to satisfy
Id and keep S-E out of trouble. Id learned new persuasive
techniques and S-E was on the brink of throwing in the whole
damn towel. Of course it was a game of sorts. Donnie really
enjoyed feeding the urges of Id. Satisfying Id was, in fact, quite
pleasurable even if he did experience occasional "boners" at most
inopportune times and S-E kept beating him on the head about
guilt and social responsibility. Donnie was real excited about Josh
but suspected Id had his hand in the matter. In fact Id was already
clamoring for a monster boner and a JO session.
Chapter four
Because of the abrupt awakening, Donnie was acutely aware of the
naked youth in his dreams and a most unusual, hermaphrodite
chicken. "Shit! That was the weirdest dream I've had yet,"
Donnie thought. Id chuckled. "Still," thought Donnie, "if chicken
peckers were really peckers they really could do that." The ringing
of the phone burst his bubble just as he was about to find how a
chicken could...what was it now? The willowy threads of the
dream were already dissolving. Oh yes, the phone. He glanced at
the clock and saw it was six fifteen. Who in the hell is calling at
this hour. "Hello," Donnie said, trying to sound awake. "Do you
know what time it is?"
"Mr. Dugan. It's me, Josh. I'm in trouble, well, me and my
Mom both are and I don't have anybody to call on. They were
coming to get me this morning and I ran away but I don't know
where to go and you said you wanted to help me and I really need
help and I got nobody to call..." "Wait a minute, It's OK. Calm
down. Look! Is someone after you? Are you safe? Where are
you? I'm gonna' help so calm down and tell me the trouble."
Josh was to excited to make much sense but I found out no one
was trying to physically hurt him and he was at a phone booth
close to his house. "Look you are OK. Just stay there and I'll get
you. It'll take me about fifteen minutes. OK. Just hang up and
wait by the phone booth."
He threw some cold water on his face and ran the brush through
his hair for the sake of appearances before grabbing the keys to the
van. While pulling on pants he had dropped by the bed, he
grabbed at his jacket. He slipped on his shoes without socks. The
socks wouldn't help that much and the coat would be enough
when it was zipped up. The van was cold but he didn't give it it's
customary warm up. Instead he dropped it in drive and made a U-
turn, heading for the phone both and a little boy who sounded very
upset. It was less than the fifteen minutes Donnie had promised
when he pulled up to the pay phone. Josh was standing by the
booth like he had told him. He ran to the car as soon as Donnie
pulled up, fumbling at the door which was still locked.
"Get in Josh," but the invitation was hardly necessary. Josh was
already slamming the door and talking to fast to be understood.
"Wait a minute. I can't understand you," he told him, trying to
reassure him but also follow the story. "We'll drive back to the
apartment and have some breakfast and you can tell me about it.
You are safe. Nobody is going to bother you. Does you mother
know where you are?"
"No! I didn't tell nobody. I just ran out the door after Nicky called
and I heard Mom say the were coming to get me."
"OK, we'll have some breakfast and figure it out. Aren't you
cold? You don't even have on a coat." "Yeh, I am kinda' cold but
I'll be all right till we get there," Josh replied, but you could hear
his teeth chattering.
In the apartment, Josh sat on the couch while Donnie started some
hot chocolate. Sitting beside Josh, Donnie put a hand on his knee,
hoping it would reassure him. At least Donnie felt like it was a
comforting gesture. "Now tell me what's going on," Donnie
asked, handing Josh a cup of chocolate. "Nobody knows you are
here so you are OK. Who is after you? Just Calm and slow, from
the start."
Josh slowly calmed down and between sips of hot cocoa Donnie
got the story. It seems Nicky was a policeman Josh's mother was
dating. This didn't improve her any in his estimation. Anyone
who would date a cop had reached the bottom of the barrel as far
as he was concerned. Cops are just small, insecure, little creatures
with their dick's in a holster... Crooks with a badge. It takes one
to catch one I guess. Maybe this one was a notch above because
he had at least called Ms. Brenner in time...maybe. Nicky had
called Josh's Mother about five thirty, as he was getting off his
shift to say he saw some papers waiting on the day shift to serve
her. It was a court order initiated by the Welfare office to take
Josh for negligence. He didn't know the details but apparently
Josh was to become a ward of the state because of some trouble,
negligence probably. Anyway, she had waked Josh to tell him
and he had run off, scarred as hell. Running away is not always
the best solution but sometime it gives you time to find the best
solution. We needed the breathing room. He began thinking
about who he knew that could intervene. Josh sipped his third cup
of hot chocolate. His eyes watched Donnie, not apprehensively
but with a tinge of fright for what he considered a hopeless
situation.
He wasn't sure what he could do but he damn well knew he was
going to do something. He ranked the welfare folks right along
with cops. They would carry their dicks in a holster if they had
dicks. He patted Josh on the knee again, not sure if it was to
reassure himself or Josh. "Listen Josh," Donnie finally said. I
have to get dressed for the office and when I finish dressing I'll
have figured out what we are going to do."
"Josh. We'll work this thing out. What you have described is not
an arrest warrant. The are not going to arrest you but if the find
you they will take you to county, more likely place you in a foster
home temporally until they can do a home study or something.
Since you are not a criminal they aren't going to spend a lot of time
looking for you but if they run across you they will take you. I'd
rather work on it before than after so don't go to school today. I
know your mother will be worried but don't call her. If she
knows where you are she might tell or they might scare her with
obstruction of justice or some other bullshit. You stay here and
watch TV or something. I have to go to the office but I can work
on it from there. There is stuff to eat in the fridge, cokes too.
Don't go outside or answer the door for anyone but me, on second
thought I have a key so don't even look out. Here is the number
to the office. Call is you want, just tell the secretary it's Josh.
I'll
tell her put your call directly through to me. I have some friends I
think can help. At least they can find out what we are up against."
It's a big people problem and I'm a big people so let me worry
about it. You have done nothing wrong and so you haven't
anything to worry about."
He gave Josh a parting wink and smile as he went out the door.
He got his first smile of the day and even a little wave, but not
with much enthusiasm. Josh was scared and Donnie was not sure
how much reassurance he had been. Yeah, it was a big people
problem but he hadn't told the boy how most little people
problems were just bog people shit that splattered on the innocent
little guys. He deserved a better shake than the door to door
treatment they were setting up for him. Josh had stirring up a lot
of emotions for Donnie, childhood emotions. Things one
couldn't, or wouldn't, put in words, just a package of emotions to
be carried around.
Business at the office was good and he had taken in two graduate
students who were exceptionally sharp. He seldom had to get
involved with the hardware anymore or most of the software.
Janet, the secretary handled most of the ordering so he worked the
bid sheets and did PR. Things flowed smoothly whether he was
in or out of the office so he could close the door to his office so he
could work on the Josh thing without worry about routine
Business. He told Janet to put through any calls from Josh and
that he would be busy with phone stuff most of the morning.
When he had poured a cup of hot coffee, he settled at the desk and
began to think through the problem.
END PART 9
DONNIE
Part 10
He stared around the office absently. He had decorated it to his
taste which was not opulent but comfortable. There was a black
leather sofa, which he knew was excessive but one should permit
an extravagance now and then. His desk was not neat but there
was orderly disarray or at least he knew the order. He looked at
the picture he had taken of a little friend that had passed through
his life. Jeff was 15 when Donnie had found him hitching on the
Interstate. He was past due for a bath, oily stringy hair, and the
odor of unwashed boy met you before he did. The boy had
thumbed Donnie down and Donnie almost didn't stop but his
youth showed somehow in the headlights. Jeff had a hang dog
expression that reflected a haggard soul. Donnie had taken this
picture of him as he sat in a swing, shoulders slumped as though
the worlds weight was all his. In the picture Jeff was looking
away with a focus on infinity, vacant, with the saddest expression
Donnie had ever known. If there were thoughts Donnie never
knew them. It was not like Jeff was a private person, more like an
absence of a person, an emptiness. Jeff stayed eight days, then
was just gone. Donnie drove for miles looking, parks, highway
roadside stops, everywhere, but there never was a sign of Jeff.
The only evidence that there ever was a Jeff in Donnie's lifer, was
this picture. Donnie enlarged it and hung it in his office over the
inscription "Jeff. I never knew you."
People asked and he would say he found the picture in a garage
sale. He knew there was a curiosity about the picture but it held so
much emotion, personal content that linked him with what he had
projected into Jeff, that it would be unthinkable to get rid of it or
even hid it. "Not a second time Jeff," Donnie spoke. "Not
again."
He took a deep breath, as one does when something is decided. It
was time for to be a little analytical because he was about to
commit himself to something he couldn't easily back away from.
What did he want out of the deal? He damn sure wanted more
than he had managed to do for Jeff. What did he expect to gain,
an "attaboy," a little self satisfaction... What? OK, he wanted
Josh. Yeah, an "attaboy," at a boy. "God dammit Donnie," he
told himself, "deal with it." "Because Josh needs a home," he said
to himself and immediately recognized his own bullshit. He was
doing this for Josh. Yeah, and he was doing this for Donnie.
"Yes Josh needs a home and all that stuff but the fact is I want
Josh, completely, socially, legally, psychologically, physically,
and sexually. If you want the kid go get him," Donnie spoke
audible, as if hearing his own words would make it happen. "Just
don't bullshit yourself in the process."
If the order was a county order it most likely came from Judge
Lineburger. Judge Paul Lineburger was one of the "good old
boys" and had been in office since Moby Dick was a minnow.
Donnie knew him socially and served on the school board with
him but wasn't sure this was something to go direct to him about.
"The welfare "turds" might have some reservations about placing
him with me," Donnie thought. Still it wouldn't have to be an
adoption just some kind of temporary thing. "What about a
conservatorship or a guardianship or some other legal maneuver,"
he thought. He finally decided he needed legal help and reached
for the auto-dialer to phone his attorney, then hesitated. "I had
better get the horse back in front of the cart and see what Josh
wants to do."
Donnie punched the auto-dial button, then six, and waited for Josh
to answer. He was beginning to get worried when Josh picked
up. "Hello," Josh said, and Donnie could tell the youngster was
not sure if his instructions not to answer the door also applied to
the phone.
"Hi Tiger. It's just me," Donnie told him, trying to sound
reassuring. "Did you fine the cokes OK?"
"Yes sir," Josh replied, sounding more relaxed. "I found them
OK. I'm drinking one and watching TV. Do you know what they
are going to do to me yet?"
"Not yet but I'm working on it right now. Josh look, we can try
to do one of two things. I can try to get it OK for you to stay with
your mother or I can see if you can stay with me. Josh I'd like
you to stay with me but it's more important where you want to
stay. Of course you mother has something to say about it if the
court doesn't make the decision for her. I know this is sudden but
I really have to know before I can do much. I have to know which
way to go. Do you want some time to think about it?" There was
only a slight pause before Josh answered. "No Sir. I want to stay
here if I can. I didn't think you wanted me enough, I mean a kid
around the house, to let me stay but I wanna' stay with you if I
can. Mamma don't care. She can't take care of me anyway and
says I'm more trouble than I'm worth and I guess she's right. See
if I can stay here Donnie, with you, I mean if you really want me
too." "I really want you to Josh," and Donnie didn't have to fake
the sincerity. "I think you are about he neatest kid I have ever
known. You remind me of someone I think about a lot. Anyway.
let me get to work on it Tiger. There is a lot of stuff we have to
find out. Will your daddy agree? Who has custody? Is the
Welfare folks going to fight us on this thing? It may not be easy
Josh, but I'm gonna' get started as soon as I hang up."
"You don't have to worry none about Daddy," Josh blurted out.
"He don't care. My real daddy lives here in town with another
woman and their kids. I mean he's my daddy but he is not on my
birth certificate or anything. The daddy on my birth certificate
isn't my daddy. He just agreed to let mamma put his name on
there so it would look better. Mamma said they just lived together
for a little while and then he went back to Illinois. I think Mamma
knows where he lives but he won't care any. They don't want me
Donnie. If you want me they will give me to you. Just call them.
They don't care," and Donnie could hear the tightness in his voice.
Donnie could tell from the boy's unsteady voice he was dealing
with some deep emotions that were about to leak out. Good, but
not now, not on the phone. They would deal with it but when
Donnie could hold him, shroud him with reassurance and
understanding. "It's OK Josh. I'll get started right now but I'll
tell you one thing. If want you, not charity Josh, I want you to
live with me like my son. If they won't give you a home you'll
damn sure have one with me. You watch TV or take a nap or
whatever you want, just stay inside. I'll bring us some burgers
for lunch, around one o'clock. I'll have some news by then.
Hang tough Tiger. I'll see you at lunch."
Settling back in the chair, he pondered the situation. What Josh
had described was a real fucked up deal. He had a daddy who
lived in the same town but was not on his birth certificate and his
father on the birth certificate was up north and just did it as a favor
to Josh's mother, who he was fucking at the time. Custody had
been given to the mother according to Josh so they shouldn't have
to deal with more family. Maybe the judge could declare him
abandoned and let his mother have full custody. If that was the
case he could probably deal with her or if the court was favorable,
do it by force. He had his marching orders. Now where the hell
to go from here? Maybe the screwed up situation was a blessing
in disguise.
Donnie put in a call to Mort Sharp, his attorney, and outlined the
problem. Mort was both a friend and attorney and switched
fluidly between the rolls. Mort asked a few questions to satisfy
himself that Donnie had given it serious thought, explaining it was
not the same as getting a pet from the animal shelter. The return
policy was a lot stiffer. This had a permanent ring to it. Satisfied,
he said he would call the judge and see what he could set up,
adding he thought a temporary stay might not be a problem.
Hanging up the phone Donnie thought Mort was closer than he
knew. It was a hell of a lot like getting a pet from the shelter.
Donnie called Josh and told him he had his attorney working on it
and would call him back soon, then he settled into some office
work. By noon he still had not heard from Mort. He told Janet to
forward any calls from Mort to his house then headed for Mickey
Dees for their burgers.
Josh was watching something on TV when Donnie walked in. He
pushed the mute button then looked at Donnie with questioning
eyes. "I'm still waiting on Mort to call. He said he thought he
could handle something for now." He sat on the couch beside
Josh and put the sack of burgers on the coffee table. "Say, how
about some burgers? You open them up and I'll get us some
catsup. The catsup they throw in the bag is only good for catsup
fights." Donnie spoke the last few words over his shoulder as he
retrieved the catsup from the fridge.
They devoured their lunch as Josh gave him his life history in
twenty minutes. Josh's long version was little different from what
he had described on the phone. Reading between the lines,
Donnie figured Mom was not to picky who she slept with and
somewhere alone the line Josh had popped up. She was knocked
up by some local cowboy and when she explained the problem he
said not to worry he loved her and every thing would be all right.
What was the three famous lies men told women... "I love you,
the checks in the mail, and I won't cum in your mouth. Now add,
"and everything will be all right. She didn't fish Josh out with a
coat hanger and when it was put up or shut up the guy said he was
sorry but he really couldn't be tied up like that.
Mom had the baby at cowboy's mothers house with a midwife and
she and Josh still lived there. The old woman he had seen when
he picked Josh up was in fact Josh's grandmother, on both the
fathers and mothers side. Ironically Josh got screwed out of a set
of grandparents. She was on social security and Josh's ADC
check was what supported Mom and Josh. Daddy on the birth
certificate dropped by if he was in town to bang Mom and cowboy
stopped over occasionally and banged Mom. There should be a
turnstile or a traffic light or something. There was a string of
"Josh, this is your uncle" who passed through so Mom picked up
a little change on the side.
END PART 10
DONNIE
Part 11
Josh was an extra piece in the puzzle. He didn't fit anywhere but
was not very disposable, so he was shuffled around at first but
later they didn't even bother to do that. This was the picture
Donnie had as he drove back to the office. He was aware it was
colored by Josh's perception and his filling in chunks from
supposition but he would have bet it was pretty close. He hoped
Mort would be able to add to it.
Donnie was much to fidgety to wait patiently and called Mort's
office three times by four o'clock. The secretary said Mort was
out and she would give him the messages if he called in. "He
doesn't always call in real regular," she told him, "especially if
he's with the judge." Mort's call came at ten to five as Donnie was
getting ready to leave his office, go sit in front of Mort's and
pounce on his ass at first sight.
"Donnie! Mort here." Donnie was encouraged by the sound of
Mort's voice, but what the hell, didn't attorneys practice that. "I
think I've got something worked out, at least for now. I talked
with Judge Lineburger and explained I was working with you and
we were already talking with Ms. Brenner about a private
placement for Josh. Fortunately the Judge was due in court so he
didn't have time to question me to much. Judge Lineburger called
welfare while I was still in his office and talked to the case worker,
a Ms. Gibbs, They agreed to hold off a few day's on the
condition Josh was out of the home. I don't think she was hot on
the idea but since it was the judges idea and she didn't have
anything better to offer she pretty much had to go along. I
promised her you would go by for Josh's things and he would be
well cared for until I could meet with her next Monday. She said
they had investigated after receiving a complaint last month that
Josh had been assaulted by a boyfriend of Ms. Brenner. I should
be able to get more information next week."
"Yeah I know," Donnie interrupted. "I have pretty much the same
story from Josh less the assault. Was Josh raped? Holy Shit! He
hasn't mentioned this at all. This sounds like it could get sticky."
"No facts Donnie," Mort told him. "You now know as much as I
do but I don't think there was rape, or rather they don't think there
was rape, or they would be jumping down our throat to get at the
boy. I really think we are covered temporarily."
"Oh Man, the kid may have actually been raped. Shit! Even if he
was he won't be helped by this legal bullshit. They will be so
excited over the headlines and stories and patting each other on the
back, he'll just be a show piece to be dumped when they have got
all the mileage out of him. I'll find out and if he was I'll take of it
on a personal basis. Let's shut this thing down if we can,
notoriety won't help us on this. I think you can defuse it, or at
least pull the legal plug. Suppose his crazy grandmother was
pissed at Josh's mom or maybe at the boy friend, anyway she files
the complaint out of spite. The cops and welfare don't have shit
for a complaint. They didn't get to talk to anyone but crazy
grandmother. Pull their teeth Mort."
"Maybe," Mort replied. "Just to early to tell. Anyway you know
how those assholes at welfare are. Still, they gotta' take orders
from the judge and for the moment he is listening to us but he
won't if it looks nasty and votes get involved. That bitch at
welfare, Gibbs, said Josh had to be removed from that
environment until they completed the investigation. When the
Judge suggested the boy stay with you that settled it unless she can
dig up some more shit. Anyway, shouldn't be anyone bothering
the boy until the judge hears the parties and orders something."
"OH. Thanks again Mort. I talked with Josh a little at lunch. It
works for him. I'll also talk to him about not talking to anyone, he
doesn't have to does he?"
"No he doesn't Donnie, neither you nor he have to say anything,
just say your attorney has advised you against talking about the
case."
"Mort, I didn't know about the assault but I'll see if he'll discuss it
with me. I'll also go by for his clothes. What should I tell the
mother? She probably needs to keep her mouth shut too."
"Just tell her like it is. She is in deep shit if the assault charge is
true or probably even if it's not. Welfare takes something like this
in their teeth and plow ahead. I think she will loose the kid either
way. We'll approach her with a private placement and we have to
do that pretty fast. If welfare get her parental rights terminated she
can't consent to shit. I'm hoping they are so snowed down there
they will have hotter fires to put out. I'll see Gibbs Monday
afternoon and see what I can sniff out. We may need to see the
Brenner woman Monday too."
"OK, Mort. Guess we are covered over the weekend. I'll get the
things for Josh. Anything else he needs I can pick up at the store,
also try to get more facts about where we really are. None of this
has been discussed with her, at least by me, but I think she will go
along, her alternatives aren't exactly good. It may solve two of
her problems, what to do with Josh and also get her tit out of the
ringer on the assault thing. Of course welfare could go ahead on
that anyway but I don't think they have anything solid. What time
do we meet Monday?" "I'll have the secretary set you an
appointment and call you. We'll compare notes and see where we
are." "Thanks again, Mort. Glad you are in my corner. I'll see
you Monday." Donnie was serious about Mort. Frankly attorneys
were a pretty sorry lot in general but a necessary evil. When you
needed one you damn sure wanted a good one. Mort had proved
more than once his friendship was genuine.
Before leaving the office he called Josh and told him they were OK
for the week end and he was going by to pick up some things from
his house, toothbrush and a change of clothes. He also called Ms.
Brenner and brought her up to date, sort of. She knew about the
pick up order from Nicky and had found out about the reported
assault. As bad as he wanted to, he avoided getting into that issue
on the phone. He told her if Josh stayed with him over the
weekend they wouldn't serve any papers and that Monday he
wanted to come by with his attorney to see what they could do. In
the meantime don't talk to anyone about the assault. "Don't let
anyone bully you into talking about it Ms. Brenner. Just tell them
to see your attorney and say nothing else." She seemed happy
someone was going to help her. She didn't ask about Josh.
Reassured that all the bases were covered, at least temporarily,
Donnie headed back to his apartment. Hearing Donnie's key in the
door, Josh got up from the couch to meet him. When Donnie
came in, he first hugged he boy, hoping it reassured him. They
talked during the evening without saying much, Donnie avoiding
the assault thing. Donnie hoped Josh would voluntarily bring it up
and gave the lad time to do so on his on.
Johnny Carson would have been entertaining if Donnie could have
gotten into it. Seemed he and Josh both were elsewhere, each
waiting on the other to start. "Come on Big Guy, lets turn in,"
Donnie told him, flipping off the TV. The boy may still mention
it, Donnie thought, after all some things are best brought to light in
the dark.
They walked into the bedroom and Josh was fidgeting like he was
waiting for Donnie to tell him where to sleep. "OK. Let me
explain our possible sleeping arrangements, namely, there is the
couch or the bed... Either way I take the bed." Donnie pointed
out it was king size so there was plenty of room. "If you want to
sleep in here we'll hardly be crowded. I can get extra cover and a
pillow if you want the couch but frankly, I think you will be more
comfortable in the bed," his preference indicated by pointing to the
far side of the bed.
"Do you want some pajamas or something, Josh? I don't think
your mother sent any and I sure don't have any to fit you but I
might have a long t-shirt or something."
"It's OK, Donnie. I don't have any pajamas. I can just use my
underwear if it's all right. I sometimes don't even use that at
home," Josh replied, then paused like he wasn't sure if that was all
right to say or not.
"Yeah, me too Josh," Donnie said. "I never did get used to
pajamas. Actually I usually sleep with out my underwear too. It
really is a lot more comfortable."
"Really. Me too. I didn't think grow ups did that. Mom says
they cut off the blood. She say's pajamas were invented to have
something to sell and it's natural to sleep naked."
"Well let's sleep like we usually do," Donnie said, liking this
arrangement much better. Donnie undressed and place his clothes
on the night stand. He considered turning his back but figured that
would suggest it was embarrassing, the very thing he wanted Josh
not to feel, so he stood at an angle to Josh. For the most part his
dick behaved, swelling but not quite to the point of erecting.
Josh did like wise placing his clothes on the dresser. Neither said
much but there were furtive glances with Josh watching Donnie
for clues. Had Donnie shown embarrassment Josh would have
picked up on it immediately. Donnie watched the lad's juvenile
cock and smooth ass then wished his erecting dick would quit
erecting. Donnie couldn't tell if Josh was getting a hard on or not.
Hell at their age they kept a hard on. Josh glanced at Donnie's
cock then away but seemed to have an erection problem of his own
and hurried to get into bed. When Donnie got the lights off Josh
was already under the cover. The last thing Donnie saw before the
light went was a little tent where Josh's lap should have been.
Laying between the sheets Donnie was aware his breathing was
rapid and shallow. In the dark, the after image of Josh's cock
burned brightly. "Let's get some sleep Josh. We have a big day
tomorrow," he said but he knew it was a stall. He needed to
think. He was feeling excited. He had completely lost his battle
with the erection. He was boned to the max. He took a deep
breath, trying to get composed. "Shit Donnie," he thought, you
can't fight human nature, yours anyway, so at least be subtle.
END PART 11
DONNIE
Part 12
"OK Donnie. I guess I am sorta' sleepy. I got up to early this
morning. What are we gonna' do tomorrow," Josh asked.
Donnie wasn't sure but he thought he felt a movement to the bed
that wasn't his, and it definitely had a rhythmic quality. "We'll, I
hadn't thought about it a lot," Donnie answered, glad for
something to say. "There are some things to take care of. How
about we have a good breakfast here and you can call a friend and
go to the movies or something." No. Yes, the little fart was over
there whacking off. "No one is going to bother you over the
weekend. We'll find something for us to do in the evening," and
Donnie stroked his blue steeler.
Silence, then, "Yeh, that's OK...Donnie?"
"Yeah, Tiger."
"I'm glad your let me stay with you. I'll try not to be any
trouble."
"Josh. If I have my way you will get to stay a long time but there
is some things we have to do for that to happen."
Donnie finally gave up. (Id was having a shit fit. A naked boy
not two feet away and " he says goodnight. Shut up S-E. I'll
knock fire from your ass if you fuck this up.) "Come here Josh.
We really do need to talk."
Donnie could hear the sheets rustle as Josh slid across until their
arms touched. Josh stopped, maybe unsure of himself. "Come
on over. I want to hold you," and Donnie moved his arm under
the boy's head, pulling him closer until Josh's head was on
Donnie's chest. Josh rolled onto his side and extended his knee
over Donnie's leg and between his knees until his leg was
touching Donnie's balls. Josh's body excited every inch of their
touching. Donnie could feel the heat of Josh's leg pressing
upward into Donnie's balls. The boy's cock rested in the hollow
of Donnie's thigh. He reached around Josh and pulled him even
closer, kissing his forehead. Donnie didn't want to break the
spell. He never felt more alive. A super nova was developing
between his legs. His dick actually throbbed with hardness.
"Josh. There seems to be another problem too," Donnie said,
feeling Josh's breath on his chest. Donnie absently moved his
fingers over the small waist, "something to do with your mothers
boyfriends or at least one of them. It has to do with why they
want to take you away," Donnie said, stumbling over the words.
"What the hell is he doing," ID screamed to no one in particular
"What the hell is he talking about, `something to do with your
mothers boyfriend.' JHC, fuck the boy. If you don't our dick is
gonna' explode and we'll bleed to death if we both don't drown in
cum first... "Do you know what I'm talking about Josh," Donnie
continued. It was quiet for several seconds. He was sure Josh
knew what he was talking about and would answer in his own
time. He let the pressure of the silence linger, waiting for Josh, yet
not minding as he explored the boy. At some point he had to
discuss the assault thing but he preferred Josh to be willing in the
matter. It wasn't something he wanted to try to drag out of him.
Donnie knew this was important but his mind kept wandering
away from the subject... now what was the subject. Why did he
feel his dick was going to explode and drown them in blood and
cum?
"Maybe if I offer an edited story of my own," Donnie thought.
"Josh. There was something happened to me one time when I was
a young boy. I've never told anyone but if you can keep a secret I
will tell you. ("Don't forget to tell him how much I liked it Id was
screaming again. You always leave that part out.") It was kinda'
scary and for a long time I didn't want to think about it. ("Yeah
but I thought about it a lot," ID harped.) Later when I was older I
realized it was not my fault and I had nothing to be ashamed of.
Still I never told anyone but now I know if I had talked to
someone I could trust and someone who would have understood, I
would have felt better."
"I was spending the night with one of my friends and after I had
gone to bed his older brother who was nineteen came into the
room. I guess I was scared or something 'cause I didn't say
anything as he got into bed with me. He really scared me because
I didn't know what he was doing. I was so embarrassed I left
before breakfast the next morning and never went over to my
friends house again because I was afraid I would see Phil. What
he did was wrong. It was wrong because I didn't want him to do
it. It was wrong because he scared me. What I'm trying to say
Josh is, it wasn't my fault. I didn't do anything to cause it. He
forced himself on me." I think I would have felt a lot better if I
could have talked to someone. Has something like that happened
to you?"
There was a pause of several seconds before Josh spoke. "Yeah.
You know about it don't you. You know why I'm in trouble?"
Donnie wasn't sure but he thought he felt a wet spot on his chest.
A tear? If Josh could just talk about it, the hurt could be put to rest
maybe. It could also be a psychological block that slowed down
development of their physical relationship. "You are not in
trouble," Donnie told him. "Someone else is in trouble but
because of what he may have done you and your mother have a
problem, and yes Josh, that has something to do with why they
were coming to get you. It wasn't something you did but the
welfare folks think use the excuse of protecting you. They say
they would protect you by taking you away. We, you and I, are
going to see that you stay here. To do that I need to know what
happened." Momentarily at least, Donnie was back on track. Id
was having a total sexual breakdown in the background.
"Can they put me in Jail," Josh asked, real fear in his voice? The
unknown being the most fearful of all.
"No," Donnie reassured him, hugging him. "They might try to
persuade you to talk and if you don't they may even threaten you
but you don't have to say anything, and you shouldn't. I hope we
can beat them to the punch. What happened Josh? I really need to
know."
There was a deep sigh then he started his story. "I guess they are
talking about when the man got into bed with me and my
mamma," Josh said at last. "We had gone to bed and I was
already asleep when they woke me up. This man was beside the
bed arguing with Mamma. He had his pants down and they were
calling each other names." Josh's words were slow at first but as
he talked it was like he was reliving the episode, his voice ridden
with emotion. It seemed the boy was talking to no one, just
reading along from a script in his head.
"He called Mamma a whore and she hit at him. She was still in
bed but was getting up. I think he had been drinking and kinda'
stumbled but he didn't fall. Then he hit her really hard, with his
fist, and she didn't do anything, just fell back onto the bed, toward
me. She just lay there. I may have screamed, I don't remember.
I guess it was then he noticed me. He stared at me, at my dick,
then smiled. When I saw he him looking at me, I got out of the
bed to run but he was between me and the door and grabbed me by
the arm when I tried to run by. I hit at him but couldn't get loose.
I bit his arm but he just cussed at me and grabbed me around the
chest and throat."
Donnie pulled the boy closer to him, feeling his responsive
squeeze. He slid his hand down the curve of the slender waist and
around the taunt buttock until it was on Josh's leg. He squeezed it
reassuringly pulling the leg deeper between his own. Josh was
now rolled almost on top of him, their cocks only inches apart.
Donnie felt Josh move his head and in the dim light could see the
boy looking at him. He bent forward and kissed him, first on the
forehead, then on the cheek and last the lips. Their kiss was not
passionate but tender. Josh returned Donnie's kiss with equal
tenderness, then pressed his face against Donnie's cheek. Donnie
moved his hand to the boys neck, cupping the back of his head,
stroking his cheek. "Then what happened Josh?"
"He carried me back to the bed and forced me down onto it, on my
face. He grabbed me by the hair with one hand and was fumbling
with his pants with the other. I knew what he meant to do and
was afraid he would strangle me. I was still kicking at him. I
heard him spitting into his hand and he stuck his finger in me, you
know, in my butt hole. I almost got loose but he grabbed my
thing...my dick and he squeezed my balls, telling me to `shut up.'
He kept squeezing until I quite fighting. He kept whispering in
my ear to be quite or he would hurt me and my mother. He was
hurting my balls a lot but when I quite fighting he quit squeezing
so hard. He turned loose of my balls and pulled my legs apart.
He said if I made any noise he would squeeze my balls off. I
couldn't see what he was doing but he was moving around. He
put his finger in my butt again but with something wet on it. I
guess I started crying. I tried not to but I couldn't help it."
Donnie wanted to tell him crying was OK and was himself on the
verge of tears. It was personal. The son of a bitch did it to his
boy. The tears for Josh were checked by the rage he felt that
someone hurt Josh. It was not the fucking, it was the assault on
the defenseless. As much as he himself wanted the boy, the idea
of rape was unthinkable. Donnie wanted to say something to
soothe Josh but was afraid to interrupt. Josh was not really
talking to him, just letting out his hurt and fright.
"He put his hand behind my neck, pressing me into the pillow. I
turned my face so I could breathe. I could feel his other hand still
rubbing between my legs and on my butt. He was up between my
legs and had his, you know, dick out. I think he was trying to get
his pants off when grandma came in. She was screaming and
cussing him and saying she had called the cops. She must have
scared him pretty bad 'cause he turned loose of me and ran. The
man knocked her down as he ran out the door. I put on my
clothes and we helped mama up. Mama said not to tell or the man
would kill her. Her and grandma told me not to say anything to
the cops or we'd be in trouble."
END PART 12
DONNIE
Part 13
"When the cops came Mamma wouldn't talk to them and they got
mad at her and said she was in bad trouble." Grandma has told
them on the phone they were attacking me too and they said, `they
could make me talk.' They tried to talk to me but Mamma hollered
at them and told them they couldn't talk to me either. The cops
finally left but said some other people would come back and she
couldn't stop them from talking to me. I thought maybe nothing
was going to happen till she woke me up this morning and said
they were coming to get me."
Even in the dark Donnie could tell by Josh's voice the boy was
looking at him. He couldn't see his eyes but he knew the fright
was back. It was not just the fright from his attack but now there
was the fright of being taken away. Now he was being attacked
again but this time he didn't know who it was or how to fight
back. There was a little knot of pain growing in Donnie's chest.
Donnie knew who the attackers were and now they were his
attackers too. He also knew government agencies were cold and
hardened, heartless, bloodless son of a bitches. In the long run
people were just statistics to them, numbers to publicize, numbers
to get them a promotion or more funds to fuck over more people.
God but he hoped Mort could help. The legal battlefield was the
only place you had a chance of scoring. It would take money and
"juice" at city hall. The winner had nothing to do with right and
wrong. Winning had to do with power. He hoped he had
enough.
Touching is a most powerful emotion and Donnie wanted to touch
his boy, touch him all over, anything to let him know he cared and
understood. Josh must have felt his movement because he had his
arms around Donnie's neck and he could feel the jerking of the
little body as Josh fought to keep back the tears. Donnie couldn't
say anything. He could only tell him, "it's OK, it's OK," but he
wondered if it really was. He could feel the moisture on his
shoulder as he stroked the back of Josh's head. They lay like that
for a long time and gradually he could feel the tension in the boy's
body relaxing.
"Josh," Donnie finally managed. "It's scary when you are twelve
years old and the rest of the world seems nine foot tall. Even
when kids are as big and brave as you they have to have help
sometimes. Especially when the guys on the other side are a lot
bigger. I won't tell you not to worry because we don't have a
switch to turn that on and off with. I will tell you are not by
yourself and the guys on your side are just as big as the other
boys. I am on your side, my attorney is on our side and we are
going to get some other guys too. I really believe it's going to be
OK. We are going to make it. It may be tough for a little while
but we are going to keep on until it turns out all right. Let me do
some of the worrying for you. I'll take on the big guys and you
handle the little guys. I want you here and you want to be here.
That's the way it is going to be."
Donnie continued to hold him even after he went to sleep, their
bodies sweaty. There were tiny, involuntary, jerks in Josh's arms
and legs as he drifted off. He felt the perspiration between their
bodies and threw off some of the cover. His eyes now adjusted to
the dark, Donnie could see the body still pressed against him,
outlined by the soft glow of the street light through the blinds.
Somehow he looked smaller. Donnie was aware of the boyhood
pressing against him and it's sweaty slipperiness. It was a soft,
undefined, just a lump of flesh but he found it sensual and stirring.
He shifted his body to create a space between them then for the
tubular appendage that could be the source of so much pleasure.
His fingers grasp around it's length, the flaccid stalk conforming
to his grasp, it's semi-firm head pressed into Donnie's palm. He
groped between Josh's legs for the scrotal sac of testicles. The
oyster like balls held promise of great gobs of juicy white seminal
fluid but for now were in the throws of prepubescence. He
visioned taking this budding manhood into his mouth, feeling
Josh's juvenile organs swell with engorgement, and sucking them
until the boy spewed his first drops of pure primal nectar.
He could feel himself hardening and chastised himself. He longed
for the time and place but this was not it. His primal self
bombarded his brain with a hundred reasons to take the boy now
but reason prevailed. In time perhaps but it must be natural and
mutual, a spontaneous sharing. The boy's passion must match his
own. He carefully unwrapped his arms and slid out of bed.
Looking down at the sleeping boy he saw what Michael Angelo
must have had in mind as he chiseled away at his David. He was
beautiful. The smooth curves of his back and buttocks were pure
art form, half moon of light and shadow. The gates of heaven
could be no more beautiful or offer more to he who entered, two
dunes who shielded paradise.
He fought at the thoughts that were arousing him but knew they
would continue unabated until he relieved himself. Donnie went
instead to the bathroom and watched himself in the mirror as he
masturbated. His eyes took in his cock as he jacked it off, his cut
but ample foreskin sliding over his glands, glistening in the
bathroom light. Two balls swung with the rhythm of his stroking,
slapping against the inside of his thighs. Donnie closed his eyes,
and immediately there was the golden body of his Josh, offering
his body, spread wide, a pink puckered flower in the center, then a
reddened ring, then a brown darker ring all seemingly smiling
beneath his two walnuts. Josh contracted, bobbing his dick, his
knees like the rear sights of a rifle. Donnie bent over the boy. He
pressed his cock inside, exploding on entry, forcing groans of
pleasure from Josh.
He opened his eyes to watch great puddles of cum gathering on the
towel. His rotated cods shot again and again, unbelievable
quantities of the creamy stuff, more than a handful. The amount
and force of his cum was legend. He could squirt the length of a
bed. He milked the remaining drops from his cock head. Taking
a deep breath, he felt the tension leaving his body, the angle of the
dangle rapidly decreasing. His hardened member softened as he
struggled to piss. At last it softened, it's yellow stream splattered
into the bowl. He swung it up and down several times, searching
for the last drop that always waits till it is back in your pants.
Satisfied he had drained himself, he returned to bed. With Josh
now on Donnie's side of the bed, he went to the other side. He
lay a long while, his mind a potpourri of residual physical
yearnings and emotions. Whatever it takes, Josh will be mine.
Events were taking on a personal tone and Donnie had always kept
the scoreboard even. As points piled up there would be scores to
settle. Donnie always believed one good fucking deserves
another.
Chapter six
If Id had a color it would be reddish purple, the color of an
engorged dick head. At the moment Donnie's ID was gagging,
with semen backed up to his back teeth, figuratively of course, and
the fury of another missed opportunity. God dammit, jacking off
was a weak second.
"Damn! I hate it when he does that," Id was saying to no one in
particular. If Id had a physical tongue it certainly would be
hanging out. Perhaps Donnie was to busy to notice, what with his
do-gooder shit and Super-ego screwing everything up with that
paternal crap he was shoveling out but Id noticed. Even as Josh
was pulling off his underwear Id was re-living the excitement,
watching his little prepubescent pecker hanging between his legs
as he put on his underwear in the dressing room. One might say
he was drooling if an Id could actually drool. Damn Super-Ego!
You shmuck! You said you would work something out and here
he is in bed, naked for Christ sake, and you start that "Poor little
kid. Look what he's been through crap." Have you considered
what I've been through? The kid's the most physically perfect
specimen I've ever seen, rubbing his absolutely delicious stalk of
boyhood all over me so I'm about to choke in my Id-iotic saliva
and you tell me cool it.
I am so horny I could honk. The dick I don't have has had a
perpetual hard on for a month. What happened to the good old
days when you didn't fuck things up. I almost wish we were back
chicken-fucking again. I admit looking at a flock of chickens
don't do much for me but at least it took the pressure off for
awhile. Look S-E, you are going to have to figure something out
or I'm going to raise hell with Donnie.
So see here dick-head. I can only handle so much with this dream
shit. I can sparkle off some of this stuff that has built up but I
don't need sparklers dude, I need a twenty-one gun salute. We've
got cum backed up to his ears. He could fertilize half of Texas and
I'll be damned if I'm gonna let him drown in this stuff. Care to
guess how many million sperm I have penned up? Shit. OK.
Let's try a rational approach. That's rich. Id's don't have a
rational approach. I wish you would try to see my side. I know
you want to be socially conscious and have a good reputation, and
you have this religious thing you are hanging onto but man, I'm
the juice that run's this whole fucking ship. SE, old chum, ain't
you or he either one "shit" without me so you better get your ass in
gear and get me some relief before my cork blows and I don't
mean another "Ho Hum" jack off session. I pull the stopper on all
this shit I got bottled up and your boy is gonna' splatter. An Id
can only take so much.
Did you feel that hot little bod all over me. I guess not since you
are "above that sort of thing." You were to busy with that
emotional caring crap. Well, let me tell you, while he was rubbing
his frilly dilly on me I thought I'd go nuts... and I did in a way.
These two testicles which I am so proud of and, you hardly notice,
were in over drive. I have enough "joy juice" built up to service a
brooder house. Yeah, I know, it's a carry over from chicken-
fucking but I'm speaking figuratively. I know it's been awhile but
I gotta' do something with all this "jurgens" I got on hand.
Yeah. I know. You two are gonna' sleep on it while I run the
show. Stay tuned for the late show SE. What you guys wouldn't
take care of earlier I'm gonna' run on the big screen about four
o'clock.
END PART 13
DONNIE
Part 14
Donnie's Id was a crusty old fart and certainly lacking in the social
graces but he was a man of his word. In the wee hours of the
morning, while Donnie slept and the total energies of his
unsleeping brain was at Id's disposal, he had visions more erotic
than a waking mind could imagine and an orgasm like he hadn't
had since he was fifteen. In three dimensional, technicolor, smell-
a-vision, Donnie welcomed the nude Josh's into his bed without
Super-Ego mucking up the show.
When Donnie awoke he had indeed puddled.
Chapter seven
Saturday morning had started off great. He discovered Josh was a
snuggler and had awoke to find the youngster snuggled against
him. He grabbed tissue from the night stand and cleaned up the
mess between the sheets. Damn, he couldn't remember making a
mess like that since he was fifteen.
He studied the sleeping boy at some length. His hair was
disheveled and several locks were almost in his eyes. He was
completely relaxed in sleep, breathing through his slightly opened
mouth. His lips were full and curved back in a manner that would
be flattering to a young girl. The teeth he could see were even and
white. His eyes were closed, covered by lids with long dark
eyelashes. Donnie knew these soft subtle features would soon be
changing as his body was sculptured by increasing hormones but
for now it was a beautiful face that could belong to either sex.
The red light of the digital clock registered fifteen after eight as he
eased himself carefully out of bed and slipped on a robe. Crossing
to the bathroom he started the shower running, pushing the faucet
lever to the top which adjusted the water to a lukewarm mixture.
Donnie was not the macho type that like to cook first then freeze in
a two minute cold shower. They say it invigorates the skin. He
found it was just damn hot then damn cold. He would take care of
the three S's and start breakfast before waking Josh. He
considered letting Josh sleep and leaving a note but decided against
it. He didn't think Josh familiar enough with Donnie or the
apartment to leave to him wake up alone and with no idea where or
what was going on, besides he wanted the boys company at
breakfast.
Donnie was into his second cup of coffee and had eggs and bacon
about ready to come off the stove when he went back to rouse
Josh. He crossed the bedroom and adjusted the blinds. They cast
ribbons of light across the bed, illuminating the sleeping boy and a
bed with disarrayed cover. Josh had thrown off most of the cover
and lay on his side facing the bedroom door. Although Donnie
made no noise as he walked across the carpet Josh sensed him or
maybe it was just time for him to wake up because he opened his
eyes as Donnie was sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Hey, Tiger. Did you sleep OK," he asked, involuntarily reaching
to rub the boy before giving him an affectionate pat? There was a
moment of confusion before Josh remembered where he was. "I
slept good," he answered, turning to look at the other side of the
bed. "Why am I over here? I went to bed over there." Josh was
unaware or unconcerned that he was naked and uncovered and
made no move to pull the cover from below his knees or hide his
morning piss hard. Donnie almost changed his breakfast menu.
"I think you are part night crawler," Donnie said, having been
snapped out of his trance by Josh's question. "You went to bed
over there then came over here and so I moved over there and
when I woke up you were over here again. It's OK. I don't mind
if you don't. How about some breakfast? I have eggs and bacon
about ready and I'm going back to start the toast. Come on, let's
have breakfast and we'll figure out what we have to do today."
Josh joined him in kitchen. Josh had put on his pants but was
shirtless and barefoot. Donnie was both pleased and troubled at
Josh's lack of modesty. Still, it seemed more an expression of his
comfort around Donnie than a not knowing when to "button up."
He decided it was not an issue that needed to be addressed at the
moment. He didn't mind at all Josh's display of himself but if he
was as casual with everyone it could pose a problem. He
wondered too about the origin of his charge's liberation from
modesty, was it he simply had never to be ashamed of nudity or
had he been taught to be so free with his body?
Breakfast went smoothly. He discovered Josh preferred
scrambled eggs but also had an appetite that devoured almost
anything. They discussed retrieving Josh's clothes and decided it
was best for Donnie to go without Josh. Josh was familiar with
the Nintendo and there were movies for the VCR so he would
entertain himself while Donnie went back for the clothes.
Donnie telephoned ahead so Ms. Brenner was expecting him. He
had asked her to pack Josh's clothes so he could pick them up.
They sat on Ms. Brenner's front porch swing for privacy and
discussed the predicament Ms. Brenner and Josh were in. He
listened to the story of what had happened and felt some sympathy
for the woman but he was not overwhelmed by it. Problems of
adults was problems for those same adults to solve. It was
unfortunate the woman was not socially, educationally, or
financially equipped to handle the real world but he had no
intention of being her savior, unless it was a byproduct of his
prime directive. She had fucked around and now she had her tit in
a wringer. To get Josh he would probably have to save her bacon
too.
He showed the proper concern and even patted her hand in
reassurance. It was not an empty gesture but was still done
automatically. He needed information and carefully asked
questions to get specific details. He thought the situation was
recoverable. The grandmother had signed the complaint but had
not witnessed any actual attack, just heard the commotion. Neither
Ms. Brenner or Josh had made a statement but had agreed to see
the police the next day. It was a typical police SNAFU (Situation
Normal, All Fucked up) that no one came back to see her but a
copy of the original report was forwarded to Social Services who
had to do something to justify their existence so they got an order
to move Josh pending investigation. Hopefully it was also
FUBAR (Fucked Up Beyond Recognition). Oh well, FIDO (Fuck
It, Drive On). Social Service workers, at least the child protection
type were what Donnie affectionately called, "ass halves." It took
two of them to be an asshole.
"All right Ms. Brenner," he told her, nothing else would be served
by staying. "Josh has to stay with me for the time being, that was
the deal to get them to hold off. You call this attorney, Mort
Smart, and tell him you want him to represent you. I'll call him
also. If you can get word to the guy who attacked you, tell him to
call Mort also. Friend or not, his being drunk will not work as an
excuse, at least not at this point. If the cops get to him and he
admits to attacking you, and particularly Josh, we got a problem.
Frankly I don't like helping the "son of a bitch" but I have to help
him to help you. I need for us to meet with the attorney Monday.
We have to move fast. Can I pick you up at nine thirty and we
will go to his office? I'll see Josh gets to school."
"Yeah. That's OK. I'll go get his clothes." She returned with
three Kroger sacks of clothes and sat them beside him on the
swing. "You know Mr. Dugan, Josh ain't had much life here.
Maybe it'll turn out for the best," and she turned and went back
inside. He felt a momentary sadness for her. She was his mother
and he guessed there must be a mothers feelings. Well, maybe he
wondered, but then Josh had seemed to feel differently. By the
time he left he thought he could see the light at the end of the
tunnel. He would need Mort, of course, but the pieces fit.
Donnie's house was part of a four-plex arranged so each house
shared a common wall but was still like a house. Each house had
it's own front yard but being built like a huge square there was no
back yard to speak of. The place was new construction and for the
little town was considered modern. Donnie kept things mowed
and trimmed, usually hiring a neighborhood kid to do the work.
Donnie had his own mower and edger, all the stuff, but didn't
particularly like to get all sweaty doing yard work. He did like the
see Marcus, a black kid, stripped to his shorts, glistening like
polished ebony, pushing across the yard. Marcus, it seemed knew
he was appreciated and mowed with more flamboyance than one
would have thought possible. The huge oak tree was special to
Donnie. He often sat at the picnic table under it, sipping his
coffee, and admiring it's strength and endurance. It had to be the
most pruned tree in town as Donnie had Marcus climbing it to look
for dead limbs almost every time he came. That was how he came
to know Marcus wore no underwear and had a enormous cock
only a inch short of the legs of his cut offUs.
Lately he had been offering Marcus cokes and some snacks inside.
The black propensity to hold their dick was increasingly obvious
as was the fact Marcus's handful was noticeably hard of late.
Next trip or two he's offer a shower, "to cool off" and he had a
feeling Marcus was ready for the shower and more.
Pulling in the drive he parked to the right side away from the oak
tree. Even though it was winter the tree managed to keep enough
sap that it spotted the car if parked under it. Naturally he had a
"wash and wax" kid too. The floor plan of the house could
easily have provided two or even three additional bedrooms but the
had bought the house in early construction and had no immediate
plans for a family so he built only two bedrooms. All the rooms
were large and a game room was built instead of the extra
bedrooms. He liked wall paper and one wall was papered in the
bedrooms, in masculine patters. In the den the wall with the
fireplace was all brick. There was very little about the house
Donnie would have changed. It very much reflected his
personality.
He opened the garage door and entered, listening for Josh. At last
he heard the TV in the game room and felt relieved. "Just because
you are paranoid doesn't mean they are not out to get you," he had
read somewhere and he certainly believed it. Passing the kitchen
he stopped, remembering he had not cleaned up after breakfast but
not seeing any of the dirty dishes. An inspection of the
dishwasher showed Josh had put everything in it, everything,
garbage and all. Damn, he thought, a kid that cleans up after
himself. Strange behavior for a twelve year old but a good sign, if
it lasts. He rearranged the dishwasher and started it. Fortunately
Josh had not figured out the controls. He was still feeling pleased
with the kid's initiative as he headed for the game room to bring
Josh up to date.
The rest of Saturday and Sunday were uneventful. He and Josh
went to a show, played miniature golf one evening and rented a
couple of movies, mostly spending time getting comfortable with
each other. He called Mort to relay his meeting with Ms. Brenner
but had to settle for leaving a message on the machine. He
mentioned the meeting for Monday morning and asked Mort to call
him early at the office.
END PART 14
-----------------------------
The previous story was presented by Fan Cha Phaw.
We can be reached at fanchaphaw.delphi.com