Date: Thu, 28 Feb 2002 10:47:14 -0700
From: Joseph Farrin <bigblaise@hotmail.com>
Subject: SMALL TOWN GAY BOY - PART 6

Stop: Press your backspace key.  Return to Nifty Erotic Stories Index and
read the Nifty Warning.  It applies to this story.


Part 6 - Chapter 1.

While driving me back to Denver, Clay told me he agreed with my decision
not to come home and practice law with him but he didn't want me to go to
San Francisco.
  Clay said he knew a lawyer in the Los Angeles area and he wanted me to go
there and look him up.  His name was Charles Radcliff.  Clay said Los
Angeles was just a big Denver, with a better climate and an ocean and it
would be an easier adjustment for me.

It was a long trip in my old Toyota even going the most direct route I-70
over the mountains and then taking I-15 down to the Los Angeles area.
Clay, Frank and Art needn't have lectured me about calling them every
evening in route and Clay's instructions to call him once a week when I got
settled.  I missed them all and had a great need to hear their voices.  A
new adventure is always exciting but at the same time unsettling.  Little
did I know that this boy that had loved men, now grown, was soon to meet a
16 year old and settle into a permanent relationship.

Los Angles was much more than a large Denver.  It was very confusing at
first, a little intimidating and had bumper-to-bumper freeway traffic 12
hours a day.  I spent the first week just cruising around looking at
different suburbs and various neighborhoods (plus the ocean) while staying
at a motel.

The second week I went to the appointment I had arranged with Charles
Radcliff, who's office turned out to be in a multi-story, office building
at almost the extreme west end of Washington Boulevard, in the Marina del
Rey area.  Charles was a look alike, even to the voice, of the old movie
actor Charles Laughton.  We talked for about a half an hour and then he
assigned one of the younger partners by the name of Jon Peters (there were
seven partners), to show me around the office.  After the tour, Mr.
Laughton told me he had a letter of recommendation, among several other
things, from Michael Clayton.  He was intrigued that Clay (Charles called
him Michael, I called him Clay) had adopted me.  He said that he had not
been actively looking for an apprentice but he would take me on with one
condition - when I passed the bar exam he wanted me to promise to continue
on as a partner of the firm.  He quoted me a starting salary that was far
beyond my expectations.

I accepted his offer with his terms on one condition.  He inquired as to
what the condition was and I told him I would accept on the condition that
none of the salary is being subsidized by Michael Clayton.  He didn't
smile, he actually laughed.

Well Mr. Mason, I see you know Michael very well.

I do and I am so indebted to him now I couldn't cope with one more debt of
gratitude.






Toby, may I call you Toby?  I played the role for Michael that he played
for you.  You might say I prepared him for you, but that is just our
secret, OK?  You might also say I taught him a few tricks.  We'll keep an
eye on him together.

And, I want to tell you that there are married, single, straight and gay
men in this office.  You will figure them out in time.  I just ask you to
proceed with decorum.  The secretaries, as you have probably noted, are all
older, married women, but very competent.  I just don't like those young
girls who are hunt-n-peckers and by peckers I don't mean hunting for the
keys on the computer keyboard, I mean the kind between men's legs.  My
young partners are not going to screw secretaries after hours and add the
hours to their time card.  By the way, where do you live?

No place yet, but I am leaning toward Manhattan Beach as the nearest
community I like that is reasonably close to the office.  I will find an
apartment before I start next Monday.

I believe that is a good choice.  When you are ready to buy something ask
me for the address and telephone number of a Marie Ellis who is a realtor
in Manhattan Beach.

Do you happen to have a picture of Michael?

Yes (I had kept the pictures of a Labor Day camping trip in my brief case
ever since enrolling in Denver University.)  I showed him a zoom shot of
Clay's face.

My God, Toby, he is really a handsome devil.  You have been sorting though
your pictures.  Show me the rest of them.  I did.  When he saw the ones of
Clay and I wandering around our mountain campsite without pants I thought
he was going to lose it.  He wanted to know if he had a happy marriage.  I
told him that his wife, Kim, was a beautiful and kind young lady, but as a
sex partner she was cold, according to Clay - that is how I happened to
enter his life.

How long have you been a homosexual partner to him?

Since I was 13 years old.  At first I serviced him then I learned to take
him anally.  I consider Michael, as you call him, Clay as I call him, the
most masculine, handsome man I have ever known.  I have long been and
always will be deep in forbidden love with him.  I know he will come to LA
to see me; the three of us will get together, I am sure.  (God, I hope he
didn't construe that to mean in a sexual 3-way.)

Before I started at Radcliff and Associates, I found a small, studio (one
room) apartment in Manhattan Beach.  Kim sent me the items of my mom's that
she had been storing for me.  Clay, Art, Frank and Barry all were wonderful
on keeping tabs on me.

Charles' contact, Marie Ellis, had shown me several houses but none that I
liked.  I was unable to communicate to her what I was looking for, being so
unfamiliar with the area neighborhoods.







I received the Trust Papers from Clay.  I was overwhelmed, angry and
confused, all at one time.  I called Clay and told him I could not accept
what he had done.  He cooled me down and told me he wanted to make the
amount of the trust more, but knew he couldn't get by with it as far as I
was concerned.  I finally capitulated, as was always the case in
disagreements with Clay.

The trust was for the total sum of $1,000,000.  $800,000 was in annuities
and stocks, which Clay told me to leave untouched - no withdrawals/no
income tax/greater growth.

$200,000 was, in essence, a cash account and withdrawals were taxable.  The
account also provided the key to getting a real estate loan, with a minimum
of difficulty, through the broker - the trust being security.

One Saturday Marie showed me a house in what is called the "tree area" of
Manhattan Beach, east Sepulveda Boulevard but still near enough to the
ocean to receive some ocean breezes.  It was a lovely, shaded, older area
(untypical of what I had seen of the town).  The house, she explained had
been on the market for almost a year, principally because it was vacant,
did not show well and most prospective buyers seemed unable to see it's
potential.  The dark asphalt tile especially turned people off as it
entailed an immediate expenditure in most peoples' minds.  I liked the
house.  Marie would not let me make a snap decision.  For a refundable
deposit she took it off the Multiple Listing Service and referred me to a
contractor (same one that Mr. Laughton had referred me to) and arranged for
us to meet later in the day so he could go over the possibilities in the
house.)

The contractor, Joe Barrow, turned out to be a young, husky, blue-eyed
blonde clad in tight jeans.  He had a big, wide smile and perfect teeth;
his smile made me think of him as a blonde Clay.  He walked the property
with me and explained that the house was sound, would, by law, be inspected
for termites before escrow closed.  Before the house was listed Marie had
convinced the seller to put in a new furnace and pool heating and filtering
equipment.  The floors were asphalt tile, which was an environmental no-no,
and expensive to remove.  If covered by carpeting or new hard flooring they
were not a hazard and did not require removal.  He pointed out the house
was of post WWII vintage, had only one owner, was not abused, but just
needed updating from light fixtures to floor coverings to the pool area,
garage door and front driveway.

I told him that I agreed with all that he said and told him I was bothered
by the exterior appearance - it looked like a fairy tale house.  He told me
that the scalloped boards at the eaves and the planter boxes under the
windows made it look that way.  The planters could be removed and the
fascia board at the eves could be replaced.

Joe continued that the good features of the house were the orientation of
the Kitchen, Living-Dining Room, Master Bedroom and two baths toward the
pool/real of the house.  Only the Living Room, the other two bedrooms and
the double garage were oriented toward the street.  He told me to not
decide until we had agreed on what I wanted done to the house and asked if
I could meet him tomorrow (Sunday) to go over that aspect of the problem.




Sunday, he had a list that included things I would not have though of -
sandblast and seal the concrete driveway - chemically clean the garage
floor and vinyl tile it.  Door from pool area to bathroom; laminated, wood
grain flooring and carpeting over the asphalt, as the laminate was a
floating floor and needed no messing with the asphalt tile.  Revamping the
front entry area.  Adding a sprinkler system after installation of new sod
in the lawn area and a cleaning up of the overgrown vegetation.  New
plumbing fixtures.  The list went on and on.  It was comprehensive.  He had
devoted a lot of time to preparing it showed that he was very knowledgeable
about residential remodeling.

We went to a builder supply store; I picked things I liked with Joe's
guidance (I wanted it to be much like Art and Franks house).  He noted the
prices and multiplied the price by the quantities (which he had already
compiled).  When we got back to the house he totaled everything together
with his calculator and gave me a quotation, emphasizing it was a firm
price, not an estimate.  I was shocked, not my how much it was but by how
reasonable it was.  I was getting paranoid, thinking everybody was fixing
things for me.

Joe, are you giving me a special price?  Did Mr. Radcliff influence this?

Yes, in a very mild way but not directly.  Charles has thrown so much
business to me that I don't even advertise any more.  I have all that I can
handle.  In your case I am meeting all my expenses but forgoing some of my
profit because you are going to work for him.  Joe told me that between the
Internet and local publications you could find anything in the Los Angeles
area from gay doctors to guys that would vacuum your rugs while naked.

Toby, when I first moved to California something happened to me.  Maybe it
is the huge number of gay guys here; I don't know what it is.  But, I will
tell you that you will be harder, hornier, in need of more frequent sex
than you ever were before.  Climate, water, whatever it is, you are going
to screw and suck until it will scare you.  Accept it.  It comes with the
territory for the first six months you are here.

Joe was right.  My hormones raged just as they did my first month in
Denver.
  The Hollywood bars were too far except on Saturday nights and then I
didn't like staying late because of the long drive home.  The glory holes
at the fishing boat docks in San Pedro and Alondra Park, between Prairie
and Crenshaw just above Redondo Beach Boulevard, were my most frequented.
Alondra had five T-rooms, four that were active, three that were very much
so and, on the dangerous side, too.  Jon Peters turned out to be one of the
gay partners.  We lunched together frequently and spent several Friday
nights or weekends together at his Marina del Rey apartment.

Joe finished the house in record time, including some changes I decided I
needed.  In the latter part of August it was done.  Meantime, his sister
had just married and she didn't like her new husbands contemporary
furniture and they were selling it.  Joe had them meet me at a self-storage
area where they rented space.  I ended up buying a beautiful, wood dining
set that consisted of a table with wide leafs that expanded it by four
feet, a buffet and eight chairs, which they pointed out would be easy to
have the seats reupholstered.




I also bought their contemporary sofa - this almost furnished the
Family-Dining Room.  Joe convinced me to also look at a grand piano that
had been in the husband's family.  I said I had no use for it.  Joe replied
I might not but my Living Room did.  We compromised that I would store it
for them at no charge in my Living Room until I decided.  This turned out
to be prophetic.

The only work left was to repaint the walls in the Guest Bath, Guest
Bedrooms, Entry and Living Room.  (The Family-Dining Room was paneled.).  I
agreed to do this work myself, as Joe needed to respond to another job and
had simply run out of time.

In the evening's I moved belongings into the house from my apartment; only
two trips remained loading my two-year old, Ford Explorer, which I had
bought from Jon Peters who wanted to get a red Mustang (to help him in his
cruising).

Before making the last two trips, after work one Friday, I dropped by the
Alondra toilet just off Prairie Avenue.  It was generally active with
married men on their way home from work. I had no sooner parked than a
young guy who was sitting under the trees at the south end of the parking
area came over and asked if he could talk to me or get in and sit with me.
He was striking in appearance, so I unlocked the passenger side door.  He
explained than an old guy had come on to him so he walked back into the
park away from the roads, the guy left and he came back to sit under the
trees but had just seen the guy's car coming up Prairie again.  Sure enough
the guy parked and came running straight for my car.  I panicked, got the
windows rolled up and intended to lock the doors but pushed the panic
button on my remote entry instead.  The lights flashed, the horn blared and
the guy made a 180-degree turn and a very hasty exit from the parking lot.

The young guy and I got hysterical and laughed out-of-control.  All of a
sudden he broke into tears.  I pulled his head over to rest on my chest and
let him calm down.  He asked for a cigarette.  I told him I didn't smoke
but a friend (Jon Peters) had left some in the glove compartment.  I
decided to have one with him to further comfort him and, after a while, he
regained his composure.

He asked me my name and I told him it was Toby Mason.

You're shitting me, Toby.  My name is Harlan Mason.  Can you believe that?

No.  Did you see something that had my name on it in the glove compartment?

Honest to God, that is my name.  I can't believe it either.

He told me he had hitchhiked from Costa Mesa and been dropped off near the
park.  His dad had literally just kicked him out of the house a few hours
ago (he wouldn't tell me why) and he was going to try to get a lift to the
Hollywood area.  I knew he was very distraught and tried to get to him
gradually.

Hey, Harlan, Hollywood is not such a good idea.  You would, even with luck,
get there after dark hitchhiking.  Do you have a place to go there?




No.  I just heard you could make money there selling yourself.

Harlan, you don't want to do that and you most certainly don't need to do
that.  I have a better idea.  I am about 30 minutes from being ready to
move into a nice house I bought and remolded.  Come on and help me.  Look
at the house.  If you like it, stay the night and I will take you to
Hollywood in the morning, although to take you there would be against my
better judgment.

After making the two remaining trips, we stopped at a fast food place and
had dinner.  He expressed his admiration of the house and helped me to
unwrap the new pillows, pillowcases, sheets, blankets and towels I had
purchased and blow up the new air mattress.  I apologized for having to
sleep together but he said he never had slept with anyone else but tonight
it might be kind of nice - he felt like company.  We were both tired and
didn't do much looking around.  I didn't even turn the lights on in all
rooms and the Living Room had no ceiling lights to turn on.

He was 16 to be 17 in two months, had two years left in high school, taller
than me, black hair, and had my much loved airplane ears.  He had a long
neck and a long, thin face.  He had a little facial hair on his upper lip
and chin.  His lips were large and beautiful.  His eyes were brown - almost
black.  Handsome?  To me he was.  Sexy looking?  Indeed he was - very much
so.

Harlan asked if he could call a friend that lived across the street in
Costa Mesa, as he knew he would be worried.  Harlan got really excited
because the friend had his dog, a fox terrier named Beethoven.  Harlan
asked if we could go get the dog tomorrow.  I told him Sunday would be
better and asked him if I could talk to his friend's mother.

I fibbed a little and told her I had picked Harlan up hitchhiking, told her
the coincidence about the names.  I gave her my address and telephone
number, my work number and told her she could dial the emergency, office
number if she wanted to confirm my story.  I explained I had just occupied
a new house for about one hour or I would take Harland to see her Sunday.
She seemed to accept my explanations.

He left the Master Bathroom door open while his pissed.  If his cock
expanded, I judged it would be about 6 inches when erect.  I left the
lights on in the Entry Hall and they reflected a small amount of light down
the hall and into the Master Bedroom.  Harlan left his boxer shorts on.

I suggested he take a couple of aspirin or half of an over-the-counter
sleeping pill so he would sleep.  He read the print on the box of sleeping
pills and took half a one as I had suggested.

I took off my shorts just before I slipped into bed.  I was the one who
should have taken the sleeping pill.  I remained wide-awake, my mind racing
as I tossed and turned with a raging erection while Harlan went fast
asleep.  Was he gay?  God, I didn't know.  The subject hadn't been
approached.  I lay facing the side of the bed (air-mattress).




Finally sleep came.  Later, I got up to use the toilet.  Harlan hollered my
name.  I answered that I was taking a leak.  He just wanted to make sure I
was still there.

When I returned to bed he rolled up to my back and threw his arm around me
- as it that was going to solve my problems. I was not going to make one
advance toward him.  Strangely, I felt protective of him.  I had never felt
that way about another person before, but I had never been so close to
someone so much younger before.

The room faced north, so the first morning light was very subdued.  I awoke
because I realized Harlan's fingers were creeping across my pubic hairs
down toward my cock, which he evidently wanted to feel.  I moved and he
began to cry again for the second time.

Harlan, what's the matter?

I'm gay.  My dad kicked me out because he caught me sucking the Mexican
gardener that mowed our lawn once a week.  I'm sorry, I should have told
you.

I pulled him up and wrapped my arms around him.

Harlan, Harlan, listen to me.  I understand.  I'm gay, too.  Please stay.
I want to hug you.  Please, Harlan.  Please stay.  Let' shower together and
get back in bed.  We can suck each other.

In the shower I told him that plumbing pipes always had a male coupling and
a female coupling.  When you sucked a cock your mouth had to become the
female coupling.  It was more effective if the guy being sucked spread his
legs to give you to total access to his genitals; a cocksucker needed to
get his head in a guys' crotch, get the man's cock wet with saliva and
subjugate his own pleasure to exciting the cock he was sucking. A
cocksucker's goal was to bring pleasure to all of the genital area and
excite a man until he achieved an intense climax.

After showering, I led him back to bed.  My first close look at his cock,
in sufficient light astounded me.  His cock erected was a strong 6 inches
and rose from a luxurious bed of black pubic hair.  Harlan's piss slit did
not terminate in the end of his dick head, but at the end of his urethra
tube, under his cock head.  It was beautiful.  The opening had the
glossiest skin I have ever seen and it was big enough to receive the tip of
my tongue.

I instantly fell in love with his cock.

More to follow.