Date: Fri, 26 May 2006 14:06:09 -0400
From: Terrance MacDonald <t_macd@comcast.net>
Subject: The House on Lora Avenue - Chapter Fourteen

This is not my first writing attempt, although assuming that I manage to
finish it -- and since this is the final chapter (unless there turns out to
be a sequel) I guess I have.  Personally I think that I'm better at
thinking out the rough elements of a story rather than filling in the
details, so I would like to offer my grateful thanks to my friend Mike for
continuing to allow me to bounce ideas off him and providing many helpful
suggestions as well as the encouragement that has actually gotten me this
far.  I would also like to gratefully thank all the readers who have
written with comments.  I really appreciate having heard from all of you.

It should be easy to figure out by this point that has turned into a love
story.  It has, does and will contain graphic depictions of sex between
young males and not necessarily always consensual, so if you're some sort
of puritan or prude, you ought not to be at this site to begin with, and
you certainly shouldn't read any farther into this text at all.  Shoo, go
away.

If you're not, which if you're now reading this sentence now, you had
better not be.  I hope you'll enjoy this.  This story is set in a mythical
place along the coast of North Carolina, where there are no such things as
STDs or deity-of-your-choice forbid HIV or AIDS.  Not only does the place
where this is set not exist, but I suppose I should point out that neither
do any of the characters.  They are all completely made up and bear no
intentional resemblance to anyone, living or dead (well actually the crazy
old lady, `Mama' is loosely based on an old woman I once knew -- but the
only strays she took in were cats).  This should not in any way be
construed as advocating unsafe sex, incest or forcing one's self upon
another, although all these things are going to be portrayed in this story.
It sort of started out with a bang, but for the more mild-mannered of you,
have no fear it isn't going to be all sex, though there will be a fair
share of it going on.

Some assembly may be required, batteries are not included, use only under
close adult supervision.  Do not remove this tag under penalty of law.  If
swallowed, do not induce vomiting.  Some settling may occur in shipment.
List each check separately by bank number.  Use only as directed.  No other
warranty expressed or implied.  Do not use while operating a motor vehicle
or heavy equipment.  Postage is due upon receipt.  This is not an offer to
sell securities.  Apply only to affected areas.  Do not fold, bend,
spindle, staple or mutilate.  For recreational use only.  Do not modify or
redistribute this text, or show it to any religious zealots or anyone else
who will be horribly offended by it without my express written consent.

The House on Lora Avenue Chapter Fourteen

	The pool party was a blur at best for all the boys as they woke up
the next morning.  When they woke up, there were six of them in the
king-sized bed that Ben was used to sleeping in by himself at Adam's house.
In the bed were Ben, Jamie, Tim, Andrew and two other boys (both younger)
from the party the day before.  They all woke up at nearly the same time,
and all had the same problem -- they all had semen leaking from their asses,
and they all had a feeling of disorientation.  It was all too clear that
none of their clothes were in the room with them, but no one felt like
saying anything about it.

	Another thing that Ben noticed was that there was blood on the
sheets.  Not just a little either.  Most of it seemed to be concentrated
around the two younger boys in the bed with them, but there was also some
where Andrew was.

	The two younger boys were both very frightened, and the older boys
did what they could to calm them.  "We'll figure out what happened," Ben
told them.  Then he herded them all into the large shower that was attached
to the `studio' bedroom so they could all wash up, while allowing him to
keep as much control as possible over the situation.  They found three more
boys in the bed in the studio room, all about fourteen or fifteen years of
age.  One of the boys was tied to the bed face down and had a dildo
protruding from his ass.  Ben woke up the other two and sent them into the
shower as well, then slowly eased out the dildo from the other one.  As he
was removing the toy, the boy woke up, clearly panicked.  Ben shushed him,
and untied him.  He told the boy what little he could about what he had
found, and then sent him into the bathroom to get cleaned up.

	When they had finished washing up, they all walked out into the
living room, still naked and looking to see where their clothes might be.
There were more naked boys lying on the couch and the on the floor.  There
was one other boy, who looked only to be about thirteen years old on a
lounge chair by the pool outside.  As Ben approached him, he noticed how
pale and still the boy was.  `Ohmygod,' he thought, `It can't be what I
think it is.'  He went over and shook the boy's shoulder.  The skin was
quite cold to his touch, and the boy didn't respond at all.  Ben was
stunned, looking at the childlike dead face.  Contrary to what he had
always heard, the young face didn't look very peaceful in death either.
The large pool of blood under the lounger the boy was lying upon finally
registered in his mind.  Ben was suddenly overwhelmed by what he had found.
He vomited until he was coughing up nothing more than bile.  He wished he
had parents he could run to.  Life had just gotten a lot bigger than he was
used to coping with.

	Ben spotted a large pile of clothes lying next to the poolside bar,
dug his own out of it and got dressed.  He felt the little Derringer still
in the pocket of his shorts.  He pulled it out and checked it -- the second
barrel was still loaded, but with the very large .410 round, which almost
completely filled the barrel of the little weapon.

	He saw that a video camera was still set up on a tripod on the pool
deck and went over to it.  He needed to see what had been filmed on that
camera.  He let it rewind all the way before he began playing it back.
What he saw made him sick once again, but his stomach had emptied, and all
he could do was cough up more bile.  It was a film of all the boys;
including himself being fucked by, and sucking all the men that had been at
the party the day before.  He was shocked enough by what he was watching
that he didn't even notice that some of the other boys had come over where
he was and were watching too.

	As Ben watched the film on the camera's tiny view screen, an even
more shocking image appeared.  It was the dead boy, being fucked by two men
at the same time.  One of the men fucking the boy was Adam.  `So,' Ben
thought `Adam is directly responsible for killing him.'  The man had not
simply supplied the means for the boy's death, he had actively
participated.

	"I'm not letting him get away with this," was all that left Ben's
lips.  Andrew was staring in horror at the dead boy.

	He told all the other boys to get dressed, which they all did
quickly enough.  When they were done, Ben got the spare set of keys to
Adam's car and asked Jamie to drive all the other hustler boys away to
wherever they were staying while he, Tim and Andrew took care of cleaning
things up around the house.  Jamie was happy enough to oblige.  The boy
hustlers were all frantic to escape this house of death, pain and
humiliation.  Even through the disorientation caused by the drug they had
been given in their drinks the afternoon before; they knew that they had to
get away from this place.  Andrew was crying and shaking on Tim's shoulder.
Ben, on the other hand, felt supremely clear-headed and determined, despite
the lingering effects of the ketamine.  Deep inside Ben there had awoken
not just courage, but an instinct for vengeance.  Vengeance particularly
for the nameless boy dead on the patio, a boy who -- if the world were a
better place -- should have been cuddled up to his mom this morning or at a
sleepover with his high school friends.  Ben had taken too much shit from
life and from Adam.  It was payback time.

	After Jamie left with the tightly-packed car load of hustler boys,
the remaining three teens cleaned up what they could around the house under
Ben's direction, without entering Adam's room.  They put the sheets from
the bed they had slept in into the washing machine, and poured bleach over
all the blood and semen stains that they were able to find.  As they were
finishing up, Adam came walking out wearing an open bathrobe, showing that
he was once again naked underneath.

	Ben lost control when he saw him, and called him an evil bastard
who had sold them all to his porno business friends.  Adam did not deny
this at all.  In fact, he simply shrugged it off as if there were nothing
wrong with the idea.  This infuriated Ben that much more.  He had reached
the breaking point.

	"You are an absolute fucking dick," Ben told him.  "One of those
kids bled to death out there from the fucking that you assholes gave to him
last night."

	"Not my problem," Adam responded.  "You're all just a bunch of
little whores when it comes right down to it.  You kids were born to be
used."  Adam's sense of responsibility not only for the underage orgy he
had orchestrated, but for his role in the boy's death made Ben that much
madder.

	Ben's mind completely snapped.  His mind was a blaze of red, not
only for himself, his friends and the other boys they had woken up with,
but also for the young boy that he had found out by the pool, dead that
morning.  He reached into the pocket of his shorts and brought out the
little gun.  He pointed it straight at Adam's face, his hand shaking
slightly from the rage that he felt.

	Adam gave a smug smile; he had missed the wake-up call.  He was
still used to getting his way from the boys that he picked up and brought
home.  He really couldn't even conceptualize that this was going to be any
different.  "Give that to me," he said, reaching out for the gun in Ben's
hand.

	"Bite me, you miserable piece of fuck," Ben said as he let loose
the one remaining round in the little gun.

	It was obvious that Adam was dead even before he hit the ground.
The massive amount of damage done from the large caliber round hitting him
squarely in the face would have made that quite clear to anyone who might
have been looking.

	Andrew and Tim simply stared in shock at the outcome of the
exchange between Adam and Ben until Ben gave them some orders.  He had
killed the bastard and was glad he had done so.  "Go inside and collect all
the cameras and video equipment you can find, and then take it into the
kitchen.  We're going to need to take it with us when Jamie gets back with
the car."

* * *

	Jamie dropped the other boys off at a cheap hotel near the Oar
House where they told him they were staying.  As they got out of the car,
one of the boys told him that they would be moving on to some other place
as quickly as possible, and suggested to Jamie that he and his friends do
the same.  Jamie told the boy that they had no intention of staying either.
Then he turned the Town Car around and headed back to Ashton Hills...

* * *

	When Jamie got there, he wasn't quite ready for what he found.
When he entered the living room, he saw Adam lying on the floor in a
massive pool of blood, his head literally having exploded from the gunshot.
Jamie actually went into shock at what he was seeing, and Ben gave him a
slap to bring him back to reality.  "We all need to have clear heads right
now, dude.  We can't afford to make any mistakes in this."

	"What happened to him?" Jamie asked, still looking in shock at
Adam's body.

	"He was one of the guys that killed the kid at the pool," Ben
explained.  "They literally fucked him to death, and he didn't care.  He
said we were all just a bunch of little whores to be used however he
wanted.  I couldn't let him get away with it."

	Jamie snapped out of the shock that he was feeling, and asked Ben
where the gun was.  Ben took it out of the pocket of his shorts and handed
it to Jamie.  "Go wash your hands and arms," Jamie told him, remembering
some of the TV shows he'd seen about forensic evidence.  "Use some bleach
and scrub really well to get any residue from the gun off."  Then he jogged
down to the beach and threw the gun as hard as he could into the surf.

	The four boys loaded up all of the video equipment and Ben's
belongings into the car.  Ben went into Adam's bedroom, and returned with a
small duffel bag which contained all of Adam's jewelry and cash.  He hadn't
taken time to count it, but in a small open safe there was what seemed to
be at least thirty or forty thousand dollars.  It would certainly come in
handy making their getaway.

	The boys took Adam's car again, and drove to Lora Avenue.  When
they got there, Mama wasn't there, but her son and daughter were.  "Where's
Mama?" Tim asked.

	"She's in the hospital, and it doesn't look like she'll be back any
time soon," the man told them.  "We don't know what kind of deal you had
with her here, but you're going to have to clear out of here."

	"That's okay," Jamie said.  "We were just coming by to get our
stuff and leave anyway."

	Andrew wasn't quite as satisfied with the hospital answer.  "What's
wrong with her?" he asked.

	"She's having some mental problems, that's all you need to know,"
the woman told them.

	"Hey, I'm just asking.  She was nice to us, you know?"  Andrew
didn't really like the way these two had always treated them, and their
mother either for that matter.

	"She's been committed," the man told them.  "Where did you get the
car?" he asked, changing the subject.

	"It's my dad's," Ben lied.  It seemed like the most reasonable way
to end any questions that he really didn't want asked at the moment.

	"Well, if you were leaving anyway, why don't you guys just get
packed up and go?"  The woman's daughter sure could be a real bitch.

	The boys were in no mood to continue the conversation anyway, so
they went to their room and got their things together.  The woman followed
them and watched them pack up their belongings.  "So, where are you going?"
she asked them.

	Ben was the only one who really had a plan, but he wasn't about to
share the truth with this woman.  "Virginia," he answered.  "My parents
have a beach house there."

	When they had put all their things into the trunk of the Lincoln,
they pulled away from the house on Lora Avenue for the last time.  Ben was
driving, Tim was sitting in the front seat with him, and Jamie and Andrew
sat in the back seat.  "We're going to Virginia?" Tim asked.

	"Nope, but I don't want them to know that," Ben told them.
"Actually we're going south, to Florida."  He finally let them in on the
plan.  "They're going to find Adam sooner or later," he explained.  "When
that happens, we might somehow get connected to it.  If that happens, I
don't want them looking for us where we're really going."  It was when Ben
said this to them that the enormity of the situation they were in really
hit home with the other three boys.  Two murders had been committed, and
they were all terribly implicated in not just one, but both, simply by the
way they had covered things up and destroyed evidence at the scene.

	A few minutes later, the car merged into traffic on I-95, heading
south toward Florida.  Ben and Tim chatted idly, although the events of the
last several hours did not come up at all - somehow they found it hard to
talk in even vague terms about what they were fleeing, but talking at least
meant they were still together, still attached at least to one person who
loved them.  Jamie and Andrew cuddled up together in the back seat and
quietly napped - their young bodies and minds trying to find temporary
peace.  The future was not something any of them wanted to think about just
now.

* * *

This is the end of `The House on Lora Avenue.'  There are other stories
coming up down the road.  I really hope that you have all enjoyed the
story.  Comments and feedback are welcome at t_macd@comcast.net (I will
/try/ to all answer e-mails sent to me, but please realize that my job
requires me to travel a great deal, so it might take a while and I don't
promise to answer everyone), flamers will be ignored by me, but will meet
with an untimely and horrible demise as the result of the curse of the old
gypsy woman who lives across the lake from me, and has inexplicably taken a
liking to me.  I think I've even seen her watching me through her rear
window with binoculars as I sit on my deck in my boxers writing this.  Wow,
that thought makes me more and more uncomfortable.


* * * Author's Note * * *

This is the end of The House on Lora Avenue, or is it?  My good friend,
editor and proof reader has been pressing me for a sequel, and I'll tell
you now that he has been convincing enough that it is in the works, though
nothing has escaped the canyons of my mind and made it to the keyboard just
yet.  So far there are two others coming before you'll see the sequel
though, so be on the lookout for "Chris and Aaron" which is a fact-based
account of one of my first sexual experiences, which will be complete in
two parts, and "Brandon and Alex" - another completely fictional tale.