Date: Mon, 2 Apr 2001 00:44:53 EDT From: Justin69SK@aol.com Subject: Guy's Secret 11 Guy's Secret Chapter 11 ------------ Written By: Justin Case March 28, 2001 ------------ Disclaimer: This story is written about young gay love. It is placed here for educational and entertainment purposes. You should be of legal age to view this material. This story is fiction; any similarities to actual persons, places, or things is purely coincidental. This story is the property of the author's and protected in accordance with copyright laws of the United States of America. Justin Case is a registered trademark. ------------ Words from our author: Hey, hey. It's me again. Did ya miss me? I missed you more. I've had a great past two weeks (at the time of this writing). Yep, yep, I have written chapters to all my stories. I started a new story, Andrew's Story; already posted two chapters. I have gotten a ton of e-mail from you all. I love getting e-mail! I've been chatting away with IMs with some of you, four or five at a time. I even started building my web site, FINALLY! Thanks to all your prodding, I did it. As you can see, these past few weeks have been eventful. I want to thank each and every one of you. Without you, the readers, the words would only be mine; it is you that make them come alive. I am forever grateful that you allow me the privilege of touching your lives. If you want to view my web site, here's the address: justinscorner.homestead.com You must be legal to view my site; there are pictures on it that may be found offensive. ------------ The sign on the window read 'Federal Bureau of Investigation'; below it was the emblazed symbol of the federal agency. The large round blue, white, and gold symbol that is not easily mistaken was the most prominent feature. The sun was bright; the humidity was thick and unbearable. Yes, it was a dog day afternoon in August. Thank God for climate controlled buildings. The air just hung. The dampness in the atmosphere caused the smog to settle, it burned at the eyes and throat. Just another summer day in downtown Jackson, Tennessee, home of the FBI's divisional office. On the third floor of the structure was the office of Special Agent Jeremy Williams and John Caulfield. It was a typical government office. Its furnishings were drab. In the cheaply paneled room a couple of stuffed plastic chairs were placed next to the door. The kind of chairs that you stick to, especially on a day like this one, when you want to stand. The chairs had chrome arm rests. Across the small room from the door, under a large window, were the two gray metal desks, with padded tops. The desks faced the door, not the outside world. Jeremy Williams had been with the bureau for over twenty years. He was in his late fifties, he hadn't aged well, and he looked to be in his late sixties. Jeremy had closely cropped hair; it was sparse and gray. His face had a grayish, yellow tinge caused by the years of nicotine and alcohol ingestion. Jeremy's pug nose had several broken blue and purple blood vessels that could be seen upon close inspection. His teeth were also stained. It was only his soft gray eyes that made him the least bit attractive. His eyes drew people in, so they didn't notice the imperfections to his facial features. Jeremy appeared to be good condition physically. He stood at six foot two, and weighed in at one hundred and eighty-five pounds. He still got to the gym twice a week, and ran two miles every other day. His legs were long, his arms were lanky. The blue suits he always wore gave him a most distinguished look. John on the other hand was a man in his thirties. He was a very attractive man. His jet-black hair was kept neatly combed at all times. His complexion was clear and tanned, which made his blue eyes twinkle. His smile was bright and he flashed it often. He had a well-defined physique, very taut and tight. John distinguished any suit he wore. "What time is the Senator due?" Williams asked his partner. "He should be here any moment." And as life has it, that precise moment Senator Hillston walked in. Senator Benjamin Hillston was one of Vermont's United States Senators. It was his complaint that opened the investigation John and Jeremy had spent the summer on. The two had been keeping PeeJo and Walters under surveillance since May. That was when the Senator alerted the FBI of the possible phony arrest of his grandson Jamie. "Good afternoon, gentlemen," the Senator boomed. "Good afternoon, Senator," Williams said, as he stood to properly greet Hillston. "What have we got?" Ben asked. "Quite a bit, quite a bit. Here, why don't you read the file, sir?" Williams stated, as he handed the Senator a folder. ____________ John Melvin Sugardale hated flying. He had to make such last minute reservations, he was stuck in coach. The only flight he could arrange was Delta's flight 6079 departing at noon from LaGuardia and arriving in Jackson at just before three. How the hell could a major airline schedule a noon flight out of the `Big Apple', John thought to himself as he sat in the gate. His fear of flying had been subdued from the fight he had with the taxi driver on his way to the airport. John lived in central Manhattan, just off Park Avenue on Eighth Street. The yellow brick building in which he resided for the last twenty-nine years was scheduled to be demolished. John had lived in the same apartment on the fifth floor since he was born. Oh, he couldn't stand change, so he had gotten involved in a lobby group to save the run-down structure that housed him. John had become a crusader of sorts since the death of his mother, three years earlier. He had become lonely in the city that never sleeps. He longed for a familial relationship. The single life was not what he longed for. John wanted more out of life. The young man in the last of his twentieth years had few friends. Overcome with the guilt of his sexuality, he feared affection, though he craved it. So he poured himself into his work and fighting causes for the `little guy'. He would turn thirty in just under a month; it would be another birthday like the past three. He would spend it alone. John was a fairly handsome man. He stood five foot nine, and kept his weight at one hundred and forty. He had brown wavy hair that he combed to the right. His eyes were brown and set deep into his face below his brow. John's face was smooth, he was unable to grow a beard, and he only shaved occasionally because he lacked facial hair. He had a small mouth with thin red lips. His boyish character made him appear to be much younger than he was. He sat there in one of the largest airports in the world, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of literally thousands of people, oblivious to it all. John was deep in thought, he was contemplating his journey, the fight with the taxi driver, his thirtieth birthday, and to add to all that, his meeting his family. He played mind tapes of what he would say to Guy and the children when he met them. He rehearsed in his head what he would say, and imagined what they would say to him. "Delta flight 6079, non-stop service to Jackson now boarding gate 32B, all first class passengers my board now," came the announcement over the loudspeaker. John let out a sigh. It won't be long now, he thought to himself. ____________ Guy woke up with a start. He suddenly remembered he was supposed to talk with that man from Juilliard, and he had forgotten to tell Bob and Alice about his cousin coming today. He looked at the clock, it was already eleven thirty, and he missed the call. Why hadn't Alice waked him? he wondered. He slowly stretched his arms up over his head, and arched his back to remove the sleep from his body. He stayed in the bed though; he wasn't quite ready to get off of the down- filled mattress. The comfort of the double bed enveloped his young body. He just lay in his bed and let the air conditioner mounted in the window blow the cool air across his smooth chest. Bob had insisted Guy have his own bedroom. "Guy's a young man; young men need privacy to plan their lives," he told Alice, when the children moved in with them just over a month before. Guy's bedroom was the Johnson guestroom. It was furnished with Alice's family heirlooms. The bed, dresser, and night stand were all cherry; they had belonged to Alice's mother and father. The walls were papered with a floral print, and the drapes matched the pale pinks of the flowers, patterned on beige. The bedding was mint green as was the plush carpet; it accented the light green leaves in the paper. Guy moved his legs to the floor; his bare toes buried themselves in the carpet. He stood and stretched again. Dressed only in his boxers, he walked to the dresser. He opened the top drawer and removed a fresh pair of white jockey shorts. He then opened the second drawer, where he kept his short sleeve pullover shirts. He decided on the blue one. He grabbed his shorts from the chair next to his dresser, the same ones he had worn the day before. He headed for the shower. "Guy? Guy? Is that you?" Alice shouted from downstairs. "Yes, Ma'am." "I spoke with Mr. Hunter. I'll tell you all about it. Why don't you come down here?" "Soon as I take my shower, I'll be right down, Miss Alice." "Ok." Alice closed the brief conversation. Guy got into the shower. He let the water flow over his body. He just stood under the cool spray, relaxing with it. His light brown hair had grown some since the death of his parents; he hadn't been to the barber since. It fell over his ears with the weight of the water. He closed his turquoise eyes. He ran his hands up and down his smooth well-defined abs. He let his right hand stop on his left breast, and he pinched at the nipple. He lowered his right hand to his penis and began to stroke the flaccid member. He tugged and pulled at his cock until it became hard. He began to jerk off; he threw his head back and thrust his pelvis into the water falling out of the shower spigot. His eyes shut tight. He rocked back and forth in unison with his right hand. He used his left hand to squeeze at his balls that hung beneath his hard dick. The young boy thought of Matty, and how he longed to be with him. He dreamt of being sucked off by his young lover. He moved his left hand to probe at his ass-hole. Guy inserted his left middle finger into the puckered pink orifice; he probed deep, trying to reach his prostate. He continued to furiously slip his cock up and down in his right fist. He wanted release; he wanted his dick to shoot his hot juicy cream. Guy's hips were thrashing wildly to his two hands and the intense pleasure he was giving himself. His sac had tightened and his balls were just below the base of his shaft. It was almost as if he had no bag, just a hairless bulge where it usually hung. The boy's legs had tensed up to the point where you could define almost every muscle. His mouth opened wide as he drew in oxygen. The cock erupted; it shot a steady stream of his juice. Thick, hot white semen just kept spewing from his little piss hole. His legs became wobbly, his whole body shook. He let out his breath with a long sigh. He had released the tension, now he could begin bathing. All squeaky clean and dressed, Guy bounced down the stairs to find Alice. "Miss Alice?" he shouted. "In here, I'm in the kitchen." Guy walked to the kitchen. Alice was busily preparing lunch for the gang. She was always doing something lately. It was very apparent she loved every minute of her newfound responsibilities. Alice had always wanted children, especially after losing her only one to the grim reaper. That's why she and Bob had gotten involved in the theater group. It filled the void for both of them. "There you are," Alice chattered happily. "Morning, Ma'am," Guy responded to her with a slight sound of guilt in his voice. "It still is, isn't it? Well, for five more minutes anyways." "I'm sorry I slept so late," Guy said apologetically. "It's ok, Bobby says young men need their sleep to become gentlemen. Listen, Guy, I talked with Mr. Hunter. I hope you don't think me too forward or meddling. I told him we would have to get back to him," Alice told him. "Thank you. It's just that, well, so much has happened and I don't know what to do," Guy asserted. He thought about his love for Matty, but he couldn't express that. "I understand. I asked him to give us another week. Between you and I, with all the goings on, what with the will and you children, I think that would be best. Bob agrees." "Thank you, Ma'am," Guy said, and let out a slight sigh of relief. "Well, why don't you run along now? Go see if you can find Matty or something." "Oh, Ma'am. That reminds me. I got a phone call yesterday from my cousin John in New York. He's coming here today. I forgot all about it. I don't even know when he's coming. I need to get to the farm and wait." "Who? Your cousin?" Alice asked, totally bewildered. "Yes, Ma'am. He called yesterday when Matty and I were at the house. He was my father's brother's son. I guess he moved away a long time ago. Ted Drucker called him. You know Ted was my dad's only friend." "No, I didn't know that. Do tell, child." "Well, anyways, he's a big lawyer or something in New York City, he said he'd be here today." Guy bantered on with his explanation. ____________ "Did you see this codicil, Ms. Molly?" the assistant was asking her boss. "What one would that be?" "This one that says the `box of the tractor and all its contents are solely bequeathed to my immediate descendants and is to be divided equally amongst said person or persons', right here on the second page." The assistant showed the page to Molly Butterfield. ____________ Wow, where are we? Why are we being left here? One can only imagine, can't one? Thanks for being here, and reading my stuff. Don't forget to check out my web site, and let me know what you think. The address again is justinscorner.homestead.com You can e-mail from there if you like. A special thanks goes out to Ed, for all he does. Thank you, Joe, for your help.