Date: Sun, 13 Mar 2005 03:14:17 +0000 (GMT)
From: Dan Perducci <danperducci@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Scandal in Hayworth

"This is Frank Oxford with WTVX news.  I am outside the Dixie View Motel
where county commissioner Adam Lane is under arrest for indecent
conduct."

The dark night was betrayed by the klieg lights of the local press.

Squad cars assembled and mingled with the station wagons marked by the
call letters of the different television stations.

The rain added extra drama to the moment.  The crush of reporters was too
much for the deputies to bear.  They stood fast and waited for a clearing
before they would take their suspect to the patrol car.

"This is Edward Paul with WDAY-TV, would you care to tell us what is the
woman's name?" said one reporter aggressively thrusting his microphone
in the face of Deputy Freeman.

The pushy reporters were from the state capital.  They were always
drooling for something salacious for their readers -- especially on slow
news weekends.  They needed something to take the edge off of doomsday
stories about missiles in Cuba or Negro troubles in the South.

The lean and young deputy squinted in the amazing spotlights and grunted
as if to defer to his boss who was waving his men around in a chaotic
choreography.

Questions were spilling out of mouths at a rapid pace.

"Are you going to let her out of the room so we can ask her some
questions?"

"Is the lady under arrest?"

"I've been camped out here with the Hayworth Chronicle for most of the
evening and I did not see any strange activity."

The rain shifted from light drizzle to driving downpour.  The crowd
pushed aside as the state patrol came to the scene and cordoned off some
space for the suspect to be escorted.

"I heard that his wife set this up because she suspected him of stepping
out with his secretary."

"This is definitely a political hit that was set up by Lane's
enemies!"

The outstretched arms of the highway patrol restrained the growing mob.
The noise soon stopped when the motel room door opened.

Three deputies were draping the man with their jackets either to keep him
dry or to protect him from the curiosity of the media and onlookers.

The cameras filmed everything they could get even though they could not
capture any faces yet.

One uniformed man from the sheriff's department rushed behind the
entourage with his notepad.  He was apparently going to interview the
woman with whom the county commissioner was caught.

"This may be too late to make Sunday's paper but I will get something
nice and in-depth for Monday," one reporter confessed to the man from
the local radio station.

"It's a damn shame that we have to have a good man fall to the
temptation of a another woman," clucked a businessman from his adjacent
motel room, "I haven't had a chance to get any ice from the damn
machine because of all of this mess!"

The police car drove off with the accused commissioner and back into
town.

"Damn!"

A hoot and a yowl came from nowhere.  Someone slipped through the police
line and caught a glimpse of an officer taking copious notes at the foot
of the bed in the crime scene.

He was interviewing a boy.

Sitting upright in a pair of baby blue boxers, the kid looked no more
than thirteen years old and he cocked his head like he was just as
confused as his interviewer.

"Get this boys!  The commish has been screwing a boy!," announced one
of the spectators.

The door to the room was still open and it soon became crammed with
prying eyes who were clamoring to be eyewitnesses to the death of a
political career.

The interviewer stopped asking questions and shouted for backup.

"Somebody shut the goddamn door!  I can't get decent answers if this
kid's scared!"

From behind the mass of reporters, photographers and cameramen, the
sheriff came dashing in his raincoat.  He was screaming like a madman.

"I trust that you good men will be destroying your film tonight.  We
don't want to be peddling indecency to our local families, now do we?
And no, you can't quote me on that!"

He manhandled a pair of writers from the Journal from the door and closed
it with a flourish.

"Just what we need, a fucking scandal in Hayworth!."

The sheriff was a man in his fifties and was just reelected.  This was
the kind of case that he didn't like.  Solved murders earned him
approval of the voters but these kinds of crimes were too dirty to make
any hay from.

"What have you written so far?" the sheriff asked.

"I have about two pages on my steno pad," the young deputy replied.

"I need my glasses for read this," the sheriff said, placing his hand
in his pants pocket.

"What's that in your pocket?" the boy teasingly asked the county
commissioner.

It was a sunny Monday afternoon when the junior high school was visiting
the county courthouse.  The commission chambers were open to visiting
students and one student strayed into Commissioner Lane's office.

Commissioner Lane couldn't be faulted for his sublime charm over
people.  His pompadour crowned his handsome face and he resembled the
actor Montgomery Clift.  Young women in the community were credited with
Mr. Lane's easy victory on Election Day not once but twice.

He was standing by his bookshelf with intent to read study some
regulations regarding zoning near town.  He had already talked to the
kids about his job and his duties.  He assumed that he was done
entertaining for the day.

Mr. Lane smiled and assumed that he was being complimented on his watch
chain.  It was a family heirloom.  It gave him a courtly heir and some
gravitas to balance his movie star looks.

"It's a watch chain," he replied, "I'm honored that you like it.
My..."

The boy strode toward the man and shoved his hand into the pocket.  The
boy fumbled around while his quarry was somewhat too shocked to react in
any way.

The kid missed the watch by a country mile and seemed to be reaching for
something else.  Mr. Lane's discomfort grew as quickly as his penis
did.  He quickly backed away.

"I don't know what you want, boy but you have certainly crossed the
line!"

"I'm sorry, Sir.  I was just nervous.  I hope that you're not going to
report me to my teacher!  My parents would make sure I couldn't sit for
a week!"

The boy seemed as innocent as his white button up shirt with the short
sleeves.  His navy blue tie indicated that this young miscreant had some
discipline within him.

"What is your name?" Mr. Lane asked.

"My name is Benjamin," he squeaked, "I really liked our school trip
today, Sir."

"That is very nice of you to say.  It's an important civic duty..."

Benjamin started licking his lips as if he was looking at something he
really desired.

"It's an important civic duty," repeated Mr. Lane.

The only thing on Benjamin's mind was the feeling of Mr. Lane's cock
against the back of his young hand.  His lousy excuse for copping a feel
on a married man was exposed by this time.

Benjamin had to be forgiven for his naive excess.  He thought that all
males shared his lusty feelings for the same sex.  He simply expected the
older man to reciprocate because he had an energetic young blonde
homosexual in his reach.

Mr. Lane did not normally smoke around women and children.  His nerves
were too shot to observe this quaint social convention.  He reached into
his desk drawer to pull out his cigarette case.  He shakily lit one of
his smokes and stared intently at the student.

"They don't teach you this kind of stuff at Central Junior High," he
demanded with a rapidly beating heart.  He had not felt this way since he
and his college roommate played around in their dorm room in university.
The two political science majors weren't going to be knocking up any
girls with the kind of futures they desired in these heady halcyon days
before birth control.

"You're a little too young to be looking at me like that." Mr. Lane
whispered tartly.

The room was hazy with smoke when the boy made a bold move.  He walked
backward to the office door and locked it behind him.

Benjamin smiled slyly.

"I want to be an office boy.  I can work for free," he said.

Mr. Lane was on his third cigarette and was trying to pace away
temptation.

"I like to do all sorts of things.  I help out my big brother when he
needs it," Benjamin said, massaging his own clothed groin.

Mr. Lane was mystified.  Temptation created a tension in his loins that
yearned for some release.  He gulped and stamped out his cigarette into
the marble ashtray resting on his mahogany desk.

"Screw this," he thought to himself as he led the boy by hand to his
desk.

Sitting down in his giant leather chair, Mr. Lane took Benjamin's hand
and guided it back to his pants.

"You like my watch?" he asked.  This question seemed designed to put
off any stray ears in the halls.

"Here, have a closer look," he panted with bated breath.

Benjamin unzipped the man's trousers and reached inside for his prize.

"What a nice watch you have," Benjamin gushed.

"Do you want a closer look?" Mr. Lane replied.

"Sure," Benjamin said before taking the man's hard cock into his
mouth.

The boy's head bobbed thirstily and with enthusiasm.  Mr. Lane's hand
was firmly on the back of Benjamin's head.

Mr. Lane never imagined himself being seduced by anyone while he occupied
this office of modest political power.  In this case, the only political
favor he might be granting would be the chance for some random kid to be
an errand boy.

The boy's humming was silent and discrete.  This was nothing contrived.
It came from clandestine nights with his brother under the bed sheets
while their family was sleeping.  His brother's sixteen-year-old rod was
ideal practice.

Ten minutes of gentle thrusting into Benjamin's mouth led to climax for
the gentleman from county district four.  He smiled and pulled out a
handkerchief to mop his sweaty brow.

The moment ended and Benjamin was already looking back fondly on this
heated moment.  He swallowed with experience and thumbed away any excess
semen from his chin.

"Do you go fishing?" said Mr. Lane.

"My father sometimes takes me but he spends much of his time running the
store." Benjamin answered.

"Have you been to Dixie Point State Park?" asked the man now recovering
from a unique euphoria.

Dixie Point State Park was in the southern part of the county and nearly
an hour away from the county seat.  Mr. Lane rarely ventured there
because it was outside of his district and because the fishing wasn't
all that great anyways.

"Well now that you're my errand boy, tell your parents that we're
going to celebrate by going fishing down at Dixie Point this weekend."

"Sure!"

Mr. Lane jotted down hi phone number for Benjamin.

"Tell me if you have your parents' permission."

"Yes, sir!"

In a split second, Benjamin unlocked the door and was quickly reunited
with his class as they toured the judges' chambers.

Nobody in the whole class had any idea of their classmate's special
field trip that was planned for Saturday.

Nobody was more upset about this fishing trip than Mrs. Lane.  She always
assumed that her husband's late hours in the office were a cover story
for having it on with his mistress.  She needled her spouse about every
detail of this kid and their sudden affinity for fishing.

"Adam, you know damn well that no random kid is going to barge in on you
to go fishing!," she fumed, "This is not The Andy Griffin Show!"

"Rebecca," he angrily retorted, "You will never understand my role in
reaching out to the community!"

"I wish that you would reach out like that when my mother visits!"

Adam blushed suddenly from ironic embarrassment but his wife took it for
rage.

"I hope that you bring home some fish!  Because if you don't, I'll
kill both you and whatever that whore's name is!"

"You're not being very ladylike," he said through clenched teeth and
started packing his suitcase.

The next day was uneventful.  Benjamin's parents, of course, were
honored to have a county official come over to spend the day with their
son.

"Sir, I hope that our Ben isn't too much trouble," the mother beamed.

Benjamin's brother gave a knowing grin from across the living room but
said nothing.

The fishing expedition was rather brief because the state park was filled
with a threat of oncoming rain.

A brief visit to the bait shop and the pair was doing as much as they
could to at least look like they were fishing for any curious eyes.

The dock extended about fifty feet into the lake.  Mr. Lane was checking
his tackle box (just purchased that morning) when Benjamin was running
back to the shore.  Mr. Lane heard a tumble and a big splash.

They were making their fishing charade work for a couple of hours when
Benjamin `fell' into the water.

"Come now, we have to get you somewhere before you catch cold," Mr.
Lane urged.

They retreated to Mr. Lane's Chevrolet Biscayne and drove off to a
nearby hotel on the nearby highway.

U.S. 19 was a shady stretch of asphalt in unincorporated Drake County
because of the army base in the adjacent county.  Guests and travelers,
however, were afforded relative anonymity compared to the prying eyes of
the Hayworth bluenoses.

That is except for the eyes of Rebecca's sister who was lying in wait
across the street in a borrowed car.

"I see Adam's car coming," she said, "I'm getting out of here before
I'm found!"  She was disappointed to see only a man and a wet little
boy leaving.

Mr. Lane left Benjamin in the car while he checked into the motel.  Dixie
View was liberal but was not libertine.

The two hustled into Room 9 at the ground level complex.  Benjamin headed
to the shower while his mentor followed him.

Clothes fell to the floor and Adam was quick to devouring his young
charge underneath the falling water in the shower.  The golden crown of
hairs on Benjamin's young cock pleased the man immensely.

He leaned Benjamin over the shower drain and entered his tight anal
opening.  He pushed in and out under the cascade of hot water.
Benjamin's palm had a tenuous grip on the tile wall of the bathroom.  He
did not fret because of Mr. Lane's arm around his waist from behind.

Benjamin's dick grew firm in the grip of the older man and proceeded to
ejaculate moments before Mr. Lane planted his seed deep within the boy.

They paid no attention to the sporadic rain outside.  Once finished
dirtying and then cleaning themselves, they prepared to go to the nearby
diner while there was a break in the rain.

A knock was at the door, it was a woman from a nearby room.  She wore a
pink silky dress that clung to her like she was poured into it.

"Go ahead, Benjamin."  Mr. Lane told the boy.  Benjamin complied and
crossed the street.

"'I'm staying in Room 4 if you need entertainment while your son
sleeps," she told the man.

"Thank you, but I am going to get some dinner now."

"My name is Loretta, just knock if you're interested."

Across the street, a blue car peeled out of the diner's parking lot.
Rebecca's sister had seen enough.

"That bastard sent his decoy to get something to eat while he gets down
to business with some hooker!" she fumed.

Mr. Lane apologetically explained his marital status and sprinted across
the highway to meet his young friend.

It was 6:00 in the evening when they carefully returned to their motel
room.  The two listened to the radio and fell asleep on the same bed.
Benjamin nestled his head into the crook of Mr. Lane's arm.

It was around nine that Benjamin walked to the light switch and shut it
off.  He stripped down to his underwear and placed his body astride the
sleeping man.  He kissed his new mane friend on the lips when the
knocking on the door started.

"It must be room service," said a groggy Mr. Lane as he approached the
door fully clothed...

"And that's my story, sir," said the seated boy to the deputy.

The sheriff found his glasses and was dumbfounded by what he was reading.
He never trained for this when he was a young man in the Hayworth Police
Department.

"Get some clothes for this kid, I think I've heard all I need to
hear!" he grumbled and returned outside to shove his way through the
gauntlet of ravenous reporters.

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