Date: Wed, 31 Aug 2005 23:24:41 -0400
From: Henry Higgins <escribir12@hotmail.com>
Subject: Nevermore!, Chapter 1

This story is:
  - A work of fiction that is based neither upon actual events nor upon real
people living or dead
  - The sole product of the author's imagination
  - The copyrighted property of the author who publishes under the
pseudonym, Henry Higgins

The story is about sexual attraction and love between an adult male and
teenage boys. If the topic of sexual love between a man and a boy is either
illegal or offensive for you, then don't read it; otherwise, enjoy! Henry
Higgins is happy to accept comments at escribir12@hotmail.com. All sincere
comments will be answered.


Nevermore!


1--A Walk in the Park

Full but not satisfied, I paid Smitty's Diner for a solitary Thanksgiving
dinner and crossed the street into the park. I walked up the hill under
heavy November clouds--driven by the chill wind and a need that was dulled
neither by the gloomy cold nor the risk involved. I crested the hill and
headed down towards the squat, cement-block restroom near the park's center.
I noticed that further down, except for my white Tercel, no cars were in the
parking lot. Small wonder--it was too damn cold. Bare tree branches rattled
around me as I neared the t-room.

In the past six months, I'd learned to seek out young men in this park. I
shuddered as I remembered the grisly scene that had ripped apart my life and
that of a boy who had loved me some fifteen years earlier. How could I ever
forget our parting--his face contorted with grief and fear, mine with guilt
and sorrow. After I got out of prison, I never could find him. For all I
knew, he was dead.

And so, I gradually learned to put my life back together, piece by piece. A
therapist helped, along with a very dear friend whom I had known since we
were in junior high school. The therapist started out by helping me learn to
seek out young men who were 19, 20, and 21. This park and its t-room had
been one happy discovery--the local YMCA, another. And yes, I found enough
younger men so that I could fulfill most of my needs. Fears of jail and
disease kept me obsessively careful, but the promise of release kept me
coming back. Today it spurred me on as I gave in to the thrill of the hunt.

I looked around for cops as I went. Only a snatch of movement down behind
the restroom caught my eye--too small for a cop, red, and headed the wrong
way--probably some kid headed home. Ducking slightly, I entered my dank
haven. The aphrodisiac waft of mold and stale urine hit my nose and penis at
about the same time. The door on the end stall still dangled precariously
from its top hinge. Vulgar scrawls sprawled across the wall opposite the
fixtures. The room was cold and still. I stood alone at the far end of the
trough, opened my trousers, and hung my penis out. Steam rose from my piss
and my breath as I remembered delicious encounters there on warmer days. I
finished, shook, and then just let it hang, stroking it lightly as I
remembered a boy-man with golden curls on a close, warm day in July and how
he had shuddered as he dissolved into loud groans and gushing squirts.

But what was I thinking today? No cars in the lot and the cold, blustery
weather meant that I probably wouldn't score. Oh, well--maybe I could just
jack off, remembering my Adonis, and be done with it.

Suddenly, I felt someone approaching even before I heard the crunch of foot
on pea-gravel outside. My heart quickened. Just as he entered, I swung round
to check out the doorway and display my lengthening penis. Bingo! His eyes
went right to it as he hesitantly approached the trough, still hooded, and
wrapped in a red sweatshirt.

"Hi," I offered.

He didn't reply right away but shuffled on in and then pushed back his hood,
sandy blond hair tumbling down around his face. Holy shit! It was a kid! My
heart raced, adrenalin surged, and a thrill went from my penis through the
rest of me. Alarm bells went off in my head. No! Not a kid--not again! I
turned back around, fumbling with my half-hard dick and wondering what to
do.

"Uh, hi," he croaked. He just stood there. Despite my best intentions, my
penis now stretched languorously for its ultimate reach. The kid stared at
it. I stared at the kid.

What could he be? Fifteen? Sixteen? Jailbait for damned sure. Bells still
clanged, but I ignored them. I knew I would. I had gotten too close. Like a
moth, I fluttered helplessly towards the flame that could eventually consume
me. My mind raced. What was he like? Long and skinny? Short and thick? Cut?
Uncut?

He shuffled toward the trough, unzipping his thin sweatshirt and undoing his
pants to display his penis. Sheesh! No shirt! In that weather? I gawked
openly at the slim, smooth belly sliding down into his curly pubic bush. In
the half-light I could see that neither was he wearing any underwear--and,
he wasn't too badly hung--for a kid. Geez! He smiled crookedly as he saw
that he had me hooked and all I could do was let him reel me in. Could he be
hustling?

I checked out his face--lean, angular, freckled, flushed--perfect in every
way. I stroked slowly.

He croaked, "Um, I could help with that... If ya want. Y'know... For some
money?"

"Yeah? What kind of help?" I asked, playing his hustler's game.

"With a dick like that, you can have any kind of help you want!" The ball
was in my court. I didn't even worry about price; it would have been worth
whatever he wanted--and then some. I started to suggest that we go back to
my place, but before I could say anything, his eyes went wide, he gasped and
clutched his mouth, bent forward, and then vomited into the trough.

"Shit!" he sputtered, coughing, "Sorry mister," (another heave), "I didn't
mean to do that." The acrid smell of his puke mingled with the usual moldy
aroma of the place. He bent down again to heave some more. "Um, where's m'
puppy?" he muttered.

I began to see the situation moving swiftly beyond him hustling and me
trimming my horns. It looked like this kid needed some serious help--and
soon. I stuffed my hard dick back into my pants and reached over to hold his
shoulders. He bent over, gasping and coughing. I ignored the demands of my
stiff dick and let my big head drive for a change.

"That's okay," I said. "Take your time and get it all out; I can help you.
You'll be okay." He couldn't say anything then; he just coughed and gasped
and heaved. Later, he was still--panting, wiping his forehead with his
sleeve. As he straightened up, I turned him around and wiped a trickle of
pukey saliva from the corner of his mouth with my handkerchief. My hand
brushed his cheek, and I felt the heat of a fever.

"M' belt... Gotta get m' belt." His eyes were wide as he pled with me, pants
now around his ankles, dick and balls dangling and swaying slightly with his
movement. Could he be high?

"You have your belt right here," I said, as I pointed to the floor to show
it to him. "Are you okay?"

"No, man, I'm not okay. I gotta find m' fuckin' belt." The boy swayed
unsteadily as he looked at me through narrow, glazed eyes.

"What about your puppy?" I asked. "You mentioned something about a puppy."

"Huh? I did? I gotta find m' belt."

He was trembling now, teeth chattering. No wonder! Dumb little shit was
wearing only that thin sweatshirt in this weather, and with no shirt. Of
course he'd be cold.

"Here, let me help you get yourself back together," I said as I stooped to
pull his pants up and found myself staring right at his rather ample penis.
I could almost taste it, it was so close; but I had regained enough control
then to stifle the impulse to take it into my mouth and instead, fastened
his pants and cinched his belt. Finally, I zipped his sweatshirt back
together in front and straightened up.

I put a hand on each shoulder and looked at him. "You don't seem to be in
any shape to be out here trying to hustle," I said. "It looks more like you
need some help and I'm happy to offer it. Would you like to come with me? I
could take you home."

The kid stared at the floor as he trembled uncontrollably and nodded his
head. I put an arm around his shoulders to steady him and we headed for the
door when it occurred to me to check around outside again for cops.

"Wait here just a minute," I said. "I want to make sure there's no cops."

The kid nodded and then leaned up against the wall near the door as I peered
out into the dusk. No cars, no uniforms. I hoped that equated to okay. As I
turned back inside, I found him slumped onto the floor.

I reached down to pick him up and muttered, "Looks like you're in worse
shape than I thought."

Before I could lift him, he came to. "Wha... Wha happened?"

"Looks like you fainted." I slipped an arm under his and gently brought him
back to a standing position. He felt so light.

With me propping him up, we made our way out the door into a small finger of
golden light from the setting sun and back down to where I had left my car.
Every few steps, he stumbled and lost it again, falling into me as I then
supported all of his weight.

"M' belt; I still gotta get m' belt," he mumbled as we made our way out of
the park.

"Yeah, we'll get your belt," I tried to reassure him. "Don't worry; we'll
get it."

When we finally reached my car, I zapped the electronic key, opened the
passenger door, lowered him to the seat, and buckled him in. Then I went
around, got in on the driver's side, buckled myself in, and started the
engine. All the while, my little head was screaming for satisfaction. But by
then, my big head was even more fully in charge. Not there--not a kid--not
again!

"Where can I take you? Do you want to go home?" I asked.

He sighed a long, tired sigh. "No, man. I can't go home. I jus' need t' rest
a little. Could I go with you?" His eyes began to close as he leaned back
into the seat.

The kid was sick. I know, I could have called 911 and let the paramedics
take over, but something stopped me. Was it fear for my own safety? Concern
for him? Somehow, I couldn't just leave him in the park or turn him over to
the System. There was some reason he couldn't or wouldn't go to his own
home. Did his family know he was hustling? I doubted it. But if I turned him
over to the System, his parents would be sure to find out. No, I couldn't
let that happen--not yet, anyway. Taking him to my home seemed the right
thing to do. I'd just have to be very careful. It was getting dark out and
that helped--less chance of neighbors seeing me bring a kid into my house.
Hell, they wouldn't see him anyway; he was slumped over against the door and
on his way to dreamland.

"Yeah. You can come with me. We'll have some heat out of this thing
shortly," I said. "What's more, I don't live too far."

"Yeah, I know," he mumbled.