Date: Sat, 24 Nov 2001 18:27:55 -0800 (PST)
From: Tom Borden <tombor99@yahoo.com>
Subject: "My Father, My Son"  33rd Installment

This is Chapter 33, a continuation of "My Father, My Son."  All of the
conditions, warnings, and disclaimers listed at the beginning of previous
chapters still apply.  All comments are welcome and will be responded to.

Send to Tom Borden:   tombor99@yahoo.com


My Father, My Son
Chapter 33

On the morning after Maggie had revealed to him that Michael and Karl were
committed lovers, Clayton resolved that he would leave the ranch.  He was
convinced that Michael had deceived him and really didn't want him in the
family . . . any more than his mother and father had wanted him.  Just as
the sun was rising, he set out on the highway with a few clothes, his razor
and toothbrush, and his pocket radio.  Since he thought he wanted nothing
to remind himself of the Walkers, he left the picture of himself and
Michael behind.

Clayton's intention was to hitchhike to San Antonio.  On the road not far
from the ranch, a young man in a pick-up truck stopped and offered him a
ride.

"Hey, fella, how fer are ya goin'?"

"Just to San Antonio for now."

"Well, hop in. That's whar I'm goin'"

Several miles along, the man said, "I gotta stop here.  I gotta take a
piss.  Come on.  Ya might as well take a piss, too.  It's a long drive to
San Antone."

As Clayton unzipped and took out his penis, the man, as quick as lightning,
pulled a switch-blade on him.  "Okay, gimme your wallet."

Clayton stammered, "I haven't got a wallet.  I don't have any money with
me."

"Don't give me any of that shit.  I can tell ya got money when I seen them
fancy expensive boots ya got on and that fancy hat.  That hat must a cost
ya three hundred bucks.  And after ya gimme yer money, I think I'll have
yer hat and yer boots, too."

Clayton just stood there, almost paralyzed with fear.  "I told you.  I
haven't got any money."

"Don't give me that fuckin' shit," the man growled as he slashed his knife
across Clayton's arm.

Clayton dashed back to the truck and grabbed his cloth bag and started
running down the road.  As the man caught up with him, Clayton ran into the
woods.  Tripping and falling to the ground, he dropped his bag.  He was
able to scramble to his feet, though, before the man was able to catch up
to him.

Leaving his bag behind, Clayton kept running while he held onto his arm.
Blood was beginning to ooze through his fingers.  Looking back he saw no
sign of the man, who had apparently gone back to his truck.  He sat down
and began to shiver uncontrollably.  He was so cold.  He took off his shirt
and then removed his undershirt and wrapped it as tightly as he could over
the deep cut on his arm.  He waited at least an hour until he thought the
man had probably driven on, and walked again through the woods back toward
the road.

Feeling exhausted and cold, Clayton sat down on a log beside the road as he
held his thumb out to the passing cars.  Soon a man and a woman pulled up.

"Are you going to San Antonio?" shouted the man.

Clayton nodded, "Yeah."

As they drove, the woman said, "Did you cut your arm?"

"Yeah."

Soon the car pulled into a gas station.  The man got out, filled up the
tank, and went inside to pay.  Clayton also got out and went inside to get
the key to the restroom.  When they had both returned to the car, they were
once again on their way.

"You should have that cut taken care of," said the woman.

The man then said, "When we get to San Antonio, we'll take you by the house
and bandage it up for you.  Also, are you hungry?"

Clayton nodded yes.

"Well, we'll give you something to eat , too."

Everyone then remained silent until the car pulled off the road and into a
long winding drive lined with trees.  They finally emerged into a clearing
and stopped in front of a large two-story brick Colonial style mansion.

"Come on, let's go on in and get that arm taken care of and get something
to eat.  What's your name, young man?"

"My name is Clayton."

As they entered the house, Clayton felt as though he was entering into a
dark basement.  All the windows were covered and there was very little
light to see by.  There was a large curved stairway just ahead of him with
a very dim light at the top.

The woman took Clayton by the arm and led him toward the stairs.  "Clayton,
come on with me and I'll take care of your arm.  By the way, my name is
Judith."

Judith led Clayton into a very dark room and turned on a tiny light that
hung on the wall.  Clayton could see that the room was almost empty except
for two straight wooden chairs.

"Sit down here, Clayton, and I'll be right back with some warm water to
wash off that wound and something to bandage it with."

As Judith left the room, she closed the door behind her, and Clayton could
hear the lock being turned.  He began to feel cold again.  Getting up, he
went to the window to find that the inside shutters had been bolted shut.
He tried the door, and it was locked.  Sitting down again, he resolved that
when Judith opened the door, he would rush it and escape.  He was now very
frightened.

After a long time, Judith returned, but she slipped in quickly and locked
the door behind her, dropping the key into the pocket of her slacks.  She
very gently washed off Clayton's arm and applied a thick gauze pad, over
which she wrapped a compression bandage.

Clayton said, "Miss . . . Judith, I'd like to go now.  Thank you for
helping me.  I'm not at all hungry.  I'd really like to go now."

"Nonsense, Clayton.  My husband is downstairs right now preparing something
for you.  And then we want you to meet our children.  We didn't bring you
all this way, and then not let you meet our children.  You just stay right
there and my husband will be in presently."

When he heard the lock being turned again, Clayton began to feel a real
terror sweep over him.  He began to shake, but was too frightened to cry
out.  He opened his mouth, but there was no sound.

Soon the door opened, and there standing in the dim light was Judith's
husband.  He was now shirtless, and his skin . . . the contour of his chest
glistened in the faint light of the wall lamp.

"Oh, my God!" Clayton cried out in a panic.  "Please let me go!"

"Don't be afraid, Clayton," the man said in a gentle voice.  Sitting down
in the other chair facing Clayton, he said, "We've been waiting for someone
like you."

Reaching over and placing his hand gently on Clayton's cheek, he said.
"When we saw you on the road, when I saw that beautiful dark curly hair,
those erotic, dark eyes, slanting slightly upward, your narrow hips, the
shape of your legs, wrapped in those tight jeans, I knew you were the one."

Clayton leapt from his chair and ran to the door, but it was locked.
"Please let me go!"

"Clayton, come on back here.  Nothing's going to happen to you.  You'll
have as much pleasure with us as we will."  Holding his hand out, he said,
"Come on back, dear boy."

Clayton walked slowly back and stood before the man.  "Clayton, my name is
Morgan.  You can call me Morgan."

Morgan reached up and slowly unbuttoned Clayton's shirt.  As he was about
to slip the shirt off, Clayton yelled, "No!" and started to pull away.
Morgan grabbed Clayton's arm and swung his fist hard against Clayton's
head, knocking him to the floor.  Clayton felt as though he was only
semi-conscious and struggled to sit up.

"I'm sorry you made me do that, Clayton, but it seems that is the only way
I can make you understand that you need to be nice.  Please be nice,
Clayton.  I don't want to do that again.  Okay?"

Morgan helped Clayton to his feet.  Still very shaky, Clayton could feel
himself being led out of the room and down the hall to another room.  In
that room was a large four-poster bed.  Morgan picked Clayton up and laid
him gently on the bed.  Judith, now stripped down to only her panties, was
sitting in a lounge chair at the foot of the bed.  Clayton still felt dizzy
and rather disoriented from the blow to his head and had no strength to
resist as Morgan continued to very slowly and gently undress him.

Clayton then looked at Morgan and watched with no emotion as Morgan slowly
peeled off his own clothes, revealing a sensuous body one could only dream
of normally.  It was not an over-developed muscular body . . . not an
obscenely over-developed body like some of those that work out endlessly in
gyms.  Clayton continued to stare at Morgan's body.  He no longer felt any
emotion, no anger, no fright.  He felt powerless.  His mind remained fuzzy
and he felt as though he was drifting in and out of consciousness.  As
Morgan climbed onto the bed and took Clayton's soft penis and balls into
his mouth, Clayton could see Judith remove her panties and start fucking
herself with a dildo as she watched.

As Morgan became more frenzied in his bathing of Clayton's body with his
tongue, Clayton began to realize what was happening.  He had been kidnapped
in order to become this couple's sex slave.  He'd read about these things.
He also realized that he probably was not going to be hurt if he cooperated
and didn't struggle against it.  But that terrified feeling was now
sweeping back over him, and he was afraid that he would be in real trouble
again if he wasn't able to get his soft penis to turn hard.  He closed his
eyes and imagined that it was Michael who was sucking on him.  As his penis
began to harden, he was surprised that sexual thoughts about Michael were
still floating in his fantasies.

Clayton could soon feel that tingle in his body that was always the
precursor to an orgasm.  But Morgan pulled off and threw Clayton's legs up
in the air and thrust his hard dry cock into his asshole as Clayton called
out in pain.  Morgan was no longer gentle.  He pounded his pelvis
unmercifully hard against Clayton's ass.  It was so painful, tears came to
his eyes.  He was afraid to plead for Morgan to stop because he feared that
Morgan would hit him again.  Soon, Judith started to moan loudly indicating
that she was going through an orgasm.  When she was through, she got up and
left the room.

A few minutes later, as Morgan continued to pump, the door opened and
Judith re-entered, but this time holding the hands of two young boys, who
appeared to be no older than thirteen.

Judith said, "While Morgan is fucking you, let me introduce our two sons.
This one's Danny, and this is his twin brother, Patrick.  They have always
liked to help us make our guests welcome."

Clayton looked through tear-filled eyes at these two little boys and
couldn't believe what their mother was telling him.  Finally, Morgan let
out several animalistic roars as Clayton could feel Morgan's penis
throbbing against the rim of his asshole and the flood of hot cum filling
his rectum.

When Morgan rolled off and lay on his back, still breathless from his
exertion, Judith instructed the two youngsters to remove their clothes,
which they dutifully did.  Morgan finally stood up and announced to Clayton
that they were going to leave him for a bit to give the boys a chance to
get acquainted with him.  Without another word, Morgan began tying leather
straps onto Clayton's wrists and ankles, which he secured to the four
bedposts.

"Now, my dear, sweet, young man, this will help prevent any . . . shall we
say, accidents while I'm gone."  Turning to his sons, he said, "Remember,
boys.  Be nice to our guest.  He has the right to have as much enjoyment as
you will have."

After Morgan and Judith left, Danny stood looking down at Clayton, who
said, "Danny, would you untie my hands.  Please."

Patrick said, "Don't do it, Danny.  You know that Daddy's gonna kill us if
you do."

As Patrick sat down at the foot of the bed, Danny said, "He's not gonna run
away as long as his feet are tied."

When Danny untied Clayton's hands, Clayton let his arms drop to his sides.
"Why don't you untie my feet, too.  You're good boys.  You won't get into
trouble.  I won't try to leave."

As Danny began untying the ankle straps, Morgan burst into the room.
Seeing that Clayton's hands were free, he flew into a rage.  Striding over
to the bed, he threw both boys to the floor and, with his fist, swung at
Clayton, hitting him twice on the side of the head.  Clayton was knocked
out immediately.  Retying the straps, Morgan stormed from the room, locking
the door behind him.  Clayton lay unconscious on the bed with his arms and
legs stretched out and strapped to the bed posts, while the two young boys
lay on the floor whimpering.  Morgan had extinguished the light as he left.
As the slivers of light that shown in from around the bolted shutters
faded, the boys could tell that night had come.  They held on to each
other, naked, cold and hungry.

Clayton soon began to regain consciousness, but his head was pounding and
his vision seemed blurred as he saw the faint rays of the morning sun
coming through the cracks in the shutters.  He felt so helpless.  His
ankles and wrists were very sore and he could feel cramping in his legs.
He had to go to the bathroom and his rectum ached from the violent fucking
he had received the day before.  Soon, he couldn't hold it any longer and
his urine started streaming out of his penis onto the bed and all over his
legs.  He started to cry and tears were blinding him.  With his hands tied,
there was no way he could wipe them from his eyes.

Danny and Patrick had both slept on the floor, but were now stirring.
Clayton could hear what clearly sounded like them peeing on the floor over
in the corner.

Eventually, the door was unlocked, and Judith came in with a tray of
buttered bread and water.  She gave several slices to Danny and Patrick,
and sat down on the side of the bed, where she held the bread for Clayton
as he ate.  The boys tried the door, but found that their mother had locked
it behind her.

"Boys, your father was very disappointed in you yesterday for untying the
straps.  You were left in here all night as your punishment.  Your father
will be here shortly, and then you will need to play with Clayton here for
your father's enjoyment.  You know how we always do this.  And I can't
understand why you do things that get him angry."

Soon, Morgan appeared at the door, this time naked, except for a heavy
leather belt around his waist.  Clayton closed his eyes and prayed that he
would once again drift into unconsciousness.


Meanwhile, Mark and Corky rode up and down the highway between the ranch
and the San Antonio city limits looking for more clues and talking with
people who worked or resided along the route.  They stopped in at the Lucas
caf^Â.  Josh Lucas had been a boyhood friend of Mark's when they both
lived in Victoria, and through many, many hours of sexual experimentation
with each other out in the woods after school, they learned and enjoyed
just about everything there was to know about boy to boy and man to man
sex.  They both had masturbated successfully for the first time with each
other, and they both had given each other their first blow jobs.  Before
Mark met Corky, and while he was still a Texas State Trooper, he would
often stop in at the Josh's caf^Â, and they would go into Josh's private
restroom and shoot a load of cum into each other.  Josh now had a lover and
a partner in the caf^Â, whose name was Peter.

Mark introduced Corky to both Josh and Peter as his lover and partner in
his new business as a private eye.  Josh said, "Hey, why don't the four of
us get together some weekend up in San Antonio.  We could do that this
coming April when Fiesta will be on in San Antonio.  We could have a great
time together."  Turning to Corky, Josh said, "If Mark still sucks a cock
like he used to when we were kids, you get some great cocksucking, I'll say
that!"

"Well, if we all get together next April at Fiesta," said Corky, "maybe you
can test him out again to see if he's like you remembered.  I give my
permission."

Josh smiled and said, "Great!  Maybe we can all test one another out.
Okay?"

Mark just said, "Well, Josh, we'll just see how it goes."

Corky's good looks and the very prominent bulge in his jeans were not lost
on either Josh or Peter.  When Corky excused himself to go to the restroom,
both Josh and Peter suddenly felt they needed to go, too.  They stood at
urinals on either side of Corky and made no secret that they were there to
get a good look at Corky's penis.  Peter dropped his hand down the back of
Corky's pants and swirled it around on Corky's smooth, firm butt cheeks.

Corky suddenly pulled back and stuffed his hardening penis back into his
pants.  "Hey you guys.  Can't you wait until April?  Didn't you hear Mark
say that we'll see how it goes?  Mark's my boss and he's my everything else
. . . my lover, my inspiration, my everything else.  What he says goes for
me."

"Okay," sighed Josh.  "We understand.  April!  Here we come!"

As Mark and Corky sat at the counter sipping coffee, Mark handed the
picture of Clayton to Josh.

"Josh, have you seen this young man anytime in the last few days?  We were
wondering if he may have come in here for something to eat.  He's a nephew
of Michael Walker's down on the Walker Ranch.  He just disappeared, and
they're worried about him."

Josh and Peter examined the picture.  Josh said, "I can see this young man
is a real beauty.  But I don't think he's ever been in our restaurant
. . . not when either of the two of us have been here. I know we would have
remembered a guy who looked like that.  Sorry."

On their next stop, Mark and Corky stopped at a gas station about two more
miles further up the road.  As Corky filled up their tank, Mark took the
picture inside and showed it to the mechanic, the only one on the premises
at the time.

"Yeah," the mechanic said as he examined the picture.  "Yeah, I think I
seen him.  He was with some other people and I remember him comin' in and
gittin' the shit house key."

"Did he say anything, like maybe where he was headed?  Or was he with
anybody?"

"Yeah, he didn't say nothin', but he was riding with some other people.  He
got back in their car and they drove off."

"Do you have any idea who these other people were," asked Mark.

"Oh yeah.  Them people were the O'Neals.  Morgan and Judith O'Neal.  They
stop fer gas here all the time.  I see them a lot drivin' both directions
on this road."

"Do you know where they live?"

"Ain't got no idea.  I see 'em drivin' south a lot, and I see 'em drivin'
north a lot.  Ain't got no idea."

As they drove off, Mark said, "Well, Corky, we're getting warmer.  We've
got a name now to look up."

Back in San Antonio, they searched the telephone directory and found no one
with the name of Morgan or Judith O'Neal.  There were, however, three
listings for M. O'Neal.  Calling the first one revealed that it belonged to
a Mary O'Neal who lived in a retirement home.  She responded with a very
elderly sounding voice, saying, "I don't talk to magazine salesmen," and
hung up.  The second one turned out to be a number no longer in service.

But after dialing the third number, Mark asked to speak to Morgan O'Neal.
The woman on the other end said, "I'm sorry, Morgan O'Neal cannot come to
the phone right now.  May I take a message?"

Mark thought fast and said, "No.  My name is Mitchell O'Neal, and I have
just had a package delivered in error to me that is addressed to a Morgan
O'Neal.  If you will give me your address, I shall be happy to have the
package forwarded to you or deliver it to you."

The woman gladly gave Mark their address and told him that she would prefer
that he have the post office forward the package, rather than his coming to
their house.



As Morgan stood looking at Clayton, Judith entered the room with a pan of
water and some towels.  She proceeded to wash Clayton's legs where he had
urinated on himself and then slipped a plastic pad under him to cover up
the soaked sheet.

Motioning to his sons, Morgan said, "Get up here Danny.  I want to watch
you suck on Clayton's balls and on his cock.  And do it the way I've shown
you before."

As Danny dutifully did as his father instructed, Clayton kept his eyes
closed and continued to pray to fall into unconsciousness.

"Now, Patrick, I'm going to untie his ankle straps and hold his legs up in
the air, and I want you to get up here and eat out his ass.  And I mean
really suck on it."

While observing Patrick sucking on Clayton's asshole, Morgan stood close by
stroking his own cock.  After a few minutes, he said, "Okay Patrick, I want
to see you fuck him.  And I want to see you fuck him really hard."

Clayton grimaced as Patrick gently pushed his hard penis into his asshole.
His asshole was still very sore, but he was thankful that Patrick's penis
was somewhat thinner than Morgan's man sized cock.  As Patrick continued to
thrust his penis in and out of Clayton's hole, Morgan motioned for his son
Danny to lie next to Clayton.  Holding Danny's legs in the air, Morgan
plunged his steel hard cock into his hole.  Clayton glanced over and could
see a look of terrible pain on Danny's face.

Morgan said, "Be prepared, Clayton, when I'm ready to cum, I'm not going to
shoot it up Danny's boy cunt, I'm going to straddle your face and let you
take my whole load down your throat."

Clayton now knew better than to object or say anything at all.  He knew how
long and fat Morgan's cock was and he was certain that he was going to gag
and choke to death.  Suddenly, Morgan pulled out of his son's asshole and
leaped up, pressing his cock onto Clayton's closed lips.

"Open your fuckin' mouth, you fuckin' whore boy.  When Clayton saw Morgan
lift his fist again, he opened his mouth wide, allowing Morgan's enormous
rod to plunge to the back of his throat.  He could feel that hard penis
begin to throb against the roof of his mouth and on his tongue.  And then
he felt and tasted the hot flow of sperm flooding his mouth and gagging him
as it flowed down his throat..

Patrick was still pushing his own cock in and out of Clayton's hole.  He
said with a trembling voice, "Daddy, I can't cum.  I'm sorry I just can't
cum."

Morgan violently pushed Patrick off of Clayton and on to the floor, and
motioned Danny to fuck Clayton, instead.  This time, Clayton could feel
Danny's sperm shooting into him.  As Danny pulled out, Clayton threw his
feet over the side and struggled to pull his hands free.  Morgan hit
Clayton very hard across the face and shouted, "You God-damned
son-of-a-bitch.  You need to be taught a lesson, you ungrateful whore-boy.
As a guest in this house, you should be more grateful for the good times
we're giving you.  You're gonna lie here and I'm gonna fuck the shit out of
you until you decide you're grateful for what we're giving you and thank us
for it.

Clayton once again felt himself sinking out of consciousness.

Morgan looked at his two sons, who had now moved to the corner of the room
and were cowering on the floor.  "Okay, you little boy cunts, you can leave
the room now.  But I'm afraid that Clayton here needs to stay put until he
gets his fucking attitude straightened out."

Mark and Corky drove up the long drive to the O'Neal house.  Parking on the
circular turn-around by the front door, Mark got on his radio and alerted
the police to come into the vicinity in case they were needed.  Going to
the door, they rang the doorbell.  Judith answered the door and asked them
what they wanted.

Mark said, "Mrs. O'Neal, we're private investigators and we're trying to
find the whereabouts of a young man whose name is Clayton Adams."

Judith replied, "We don't know anybody by the name of Clayton.  I can't
help you."

Just then, Danny, who was standing behind his mother, jumped in front of
her and said, "Mom, sure we know Clayton.  We have him upstairs."

Grabbing Danny by the shoulders and pushing him back, Judith said, "Shut
up, Danny.  I don't know what my son is talking about.  We don't have
anyone by the name of Clayton in this house."

"But, Mom!" shouted Danny.  "He's upstairs with dad."

"Ma'am, we're just going to sit over there in the car and make our report.
Thanks for talking to us.  Judith closed the door and Mark and Corky jumped
into the car.

"Corky, we've found Clayton.  Keep an eye out in case they try to leave
while I call the police to come in here and surround the place."

It took only three or four minutes for five police cars to arrive, each
filled with policemen.  The Chief conferred for a few minutes with Mark to
confirm that they may be dealing here with a kidnapping.  He then ordered
his men to surround the house.  Just then, as the police were getting out
of their cars, a car was seen speeding away from the back of the house with
two people in it.  The front door of the house opened and the two young
boys stepped out on the porch.  Both were practically naked, except for the
briefs they were wearing.

"Young man!" shouted Mark from the yard.  "Is Clayton in the house?"

"Danny ran to Mark crying and threw his arms around him.  "Yes, he's
upstairs.  I think he's hurt."

With guns drawn, the chief and several police officers went inside with the
boys, who led them upstairs to the dark room in which Clayton was being
held captive.  Mark and Corky followed close behind.  As the boys opened
the door, they found Clayton still strapped naked to the bed, and
unconscious.  Mark and Corky had known Clayton briefly and were shocked
when they saw him.  Corky choked back tears as he cut away the straps
holding Clayton to the bed.  He was almost unrecognizable with both of his
eyes black and swollen and with a large swelling on the side of his head.
There was blood on the mat between his legs and signs of semen were visible
on his crotch, indicating that he had likely been violently raped.  Corky,
with his own eyes red with sadness and anger, picked up Clayton's limp,
naked body and carried him downstairs to the front porch.

Turning to one of the boys, Corky asked, "Where are his clothes?  We need
to get him dressed."

"I'll get them right away," said Danny.

An ambulance had been called, which arrived quickly.  It departed
immediately to Methodist Hospital in San Antonio, with Mark and Corky
following.  The two young boys were put in a police car and taken to police
headquarters where they would be met by police interrogators and social
service representatives.

As Mark drove the car, Corky got on the cell phone and called Michael.
"Michael, Mark and I found Clayton.  He's very badly injured, and is on his
way to Methodist Hospital in San Antonio."

"Oh, I'm so relieved.  What happened, Corky?  Where did you find him?"

"Well, Michael, he had been kidnapped.  We'll tell you all about it when we
see you."

Michael said, "I'm going to get in the car right now and drive up there.
Karl won't be returning here until tomorrow morning.  Will I see you at the
hospital?"

"Yes.  See you then."

Between Mark and Corky, Corky was always the more emotional of the two.  As
he sat in the ICU watching Clayton, who was still in a coma, he couldn't
keep the tears from his eyes.  He thought, "How could anyone do this to
this dear, innocent boy?"

Meanwhile, the two young boys, Danny and Patrick sat very frightened in the
police station, visibly shaking and holding on to each other.  A very nice
policewoman had them in a room where she quietly asked them what had been
going on.  They told her the whole story about how their parents for
several years would pick up young men and bring them home and use them for
their sexual pleasures.  They told also of how they had, during the past
year or so, been forced to engage in sexual activity with these young men
as their parents looked on.  Proceedings were begun immediately with the
courts to get the boys into the foster care system.

Morgan and Judith O'Neal were very quickly apprehended and were being held
in county jail awaiting charges of kidnapping and sexual battery.

Mark and Corky looked at each other and, as sad and angry as they felt over
what had happened, they were so proud of themselves for having found
Clayton as quickly as they did.

Back in their car in the hospital parking lot, Mark and Corky hugged each
other.  Mark said, "Corky, I love you.  I love you like the dickens!  Let's
go out for a big steak dinner over at Max Fern's Steak house and then get
drunk!  How about it, my beautiful lover with the gorgeous lips I can never
resist!  Leaning over and kissing Corky on the lips, he could see out of
the corner of his eye a rather portly woman getting out of the car parked
next to them.  With a scowl on her face, she hesitated and then stared at
them.  Through the corner of his mouth, Mark said, "Just keep kissing me
. . . don't pull away.  We have an audience.  She looks like she hates what
she sees.  But I'll bet her old pussy's twitching at the sight.  Mark
turned his head very slightly and looked at her.  Then he gave her a big
wink.  She then very obviously caught her breath, threw her head back, and
hurried away.

When Michael arrived at the ICU where Clayton had been taken, Clayton was
just waking up.  Michael leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.  "Oh,
Clayton, I'm so glad they found you.  But why were you so foolish?  You
didn't have to run away.  We could have talked about it.  I could have made
you understand."

Clayton only stared at Michael.  Then he said, "I'm so tired."

Michael sat with Clayton as he once again drifted off to sleep.  Several
hours later, Clayton re-awoke.  Rather than looking at Michael, he turned
his head and stared out of the window.

"Clayton," said Michael," you're my son, you know, and I love you."

Without looking away from the window, Clayton said softly, "I'm not your
son, and don't tell me you love me."

"When you get out of here, you'll come back to the ranch and we'll go off
together and have some long talks," said Michael.

Clayton countered, "When I get out of here, I'll go off somewhere by
myself, and you'll never have to worry about me interfering with you and
Karl."

Michael didn't feel that any further discussion about it at this point
would be productive.  After a several long minutes, Michael spoke again.

"You know, Clayton, Tony has been very worried about you.  He wanted to
come up here with me to see you.  But Maggie needed him there to help with
the evening meal for the hands."

Clayton turned to look at Michael.  "Tony's been worried about me?"  Then
looking out the window again, he said, "I really love Tony.  But just like
with you, it's all a big mistake.  I'll be out of both of your lives pretty
soon, and then neither of you will have to do any fretting about me."

"Tony loves you, too, Clayton.  He didn't tell me, but he told Maggie that
he was afraid you would never feel the same way about him.  You know,
Clayton, Tony came down here to Texas just to follow Karl, who had always
been the love of his life.  But he eventually realized that Karl and I were
committed to each other and he finally accepted that.  Now Tony doesn't
think about anyone but you.  You should have seen how frantic he was when
he discovered you were gone.  He went out looking for you.

Clayton looked at Michael intently.  "He told Maggie he loves me?  Did he
really?  Do you think he meant it, or was he just playing games?"

"Clayton, Tony has not had an easy life.  He's been hurt a lot.  You and he
have struck up a friendship since you came to the ranch, and he's not
playing any game.  He loves you, Clayton.  Take my word for it."

"Do you think Tony could come and see me?" said Clayton hopefully.

"I don't know if it's a good idea, Clayton.  I know he want's to see you.
But if you're just going to walk away from us all when you get out of here,
there's no sense in doing anything now that would get poor Tony's hopes up.
It would just hurt him."

Clayton looked back through the window.  Michael knew that Clayton was now,
in his mind, reconsidering his options.

"Clayton, the doctors say you'll be here a few more days.  This will give
you time to think about coming home to your family at the ranch.  Anyway,
the police want to ask you a lot of questions about what happened."

Clayton smiled faintly at Michael.  To hear the words "home" and "family"
from Michael was like the reassuring and comfortable feel of a warm blanket
being wrapped around him.

Michael kissed Clayton again on the cheek, and this time Clayton returned
the kiss.  Michael told him that he had to return to the ranch that night
because he expected Karl back from his trip on an early plane the next
morning.  He assured Clayton that he would let Tony come up to visit him.


The next morning, as soon as Karl returned, he ran into the kitchen with
his luggage and asked where Michael was.  Maggie turned and gave Karl a
kiss and told him that Michael was in his small office off of their
bedroom.

Karl ran back and, dropping his luggage on the floor, met Michael just
coming out of his office.  They flew into each other's arms and hugged and
kissed deeply.  Neither wanted to stop since stopping might mean that they
would have to begin the serious discussion that both knew had to occur.

"Has Clayton been found yet?" Karl asked.

"Yes, he was finally found yesterday.  He's not in very good shape.  I'll
tell you about it later.  Karl, do you know what I'd like to do?  I'd like
to have you and I go out to my house in the Cottonwoods and have a few
drinks, get drunk if we want to, eat there, and stay over night.  I just
can't share you with anyone this evening."

"Share me?"

"You know what I mean.  If we stay here, there will be Maggie eating with
us and talking, as well as Tony, and whoever else comes into the house.  I
just think we both have some things we have to talk about that requires our
full attention to each other.  Okay?"

"Michael, I can't think of anything that I would rather do."

"I had Jake lay a fire in the fireplace up there.  That way, we won't have
to fire up the furnace."

"Yeah," responded Karl, "and a fire in the fireplace is a lot more
romantic."

Michael held onto Karl, kissed him again, and said, "There has to be more
with us tonight there than just romance."

"I know, Michael."

Maggie had earlier been informed of Michael's plan, and she had prepared a
large thermos jug of hot vegetable soup for Michael and Karl to take with
them.  There would be enough for at least three large bowls full for each
of them if they wanted it.  Also, she was sending along a large basket of
rolls that they were instructed to heat up in the toaster oven when they
got there.

Michael and Karl took the open jeep.  There was a bitter cold wind blowing
across the range as they drove to the little house.  When they entered,
Michael lit the fire and said, "Jake really knows how to build a wood fire.
All I have to do is light it, and look how evenly and nice it starts to
burn."

"I assume you want your usual, Michael.  Scotch and Soda," shouted Karl
from the kitchen.

"Of course, Karl.  But this time be light on the soda."

They both sat down on the two-seater sofa that they pulled up in front of
the large stone fireplace.  Sitting down, they could look off to their
right through the large picture window and watch a blazing red, yellow, and
orange sunset slowly fading into darkness.

They both sat silently for a long time staring into the fire and sipping on
their Scotch until Karl said, "Michael . . . ."

"Don't say anything, Karl," Michael interrupted.  "I want to say something
first.  The reason I called you in San Antonio wasn't to tell you about the
disappearance of Clayton.  It was about Clayton, alright, but it was to
tell you . . . to admit to you . . . that . . . .  Oh, God, Karl, I don't
know how else to say it.  He and I slept with each other that night.  When
it was over, I knew I had done something wrong and before the sun came up,
I told him to go back to his room.  I hardly slept for the rest of the
night.  The guilt was killing me.  That's why I called you."

Karl got up and picked up the poker from the stand on the hearth.  He held
it in his hand for a few moments as he stared into the fire.  He then
caught the burning log with the hook side of the poker and turned it over,
causing a huge spray of sparks to rise up into the flue.  Turning slowly
around, he faced Michael.  With a wry smile on his face, he walked over and
knelt down in front of him.

Taking Michael's hand in his, Karl said, "Oh, Michael.  Was that all it
was?  Clayton was looking for someone to love him.  We both knew that.  And
I'll be willing to bet he came to your bed himself.  You didn't take him to
bed.  Am I right?"

Michael nodded almost inperceptibly.

"I've talked with Clayton from time to time," Karl continued.  "He
considers you . . . or wants to consider you his father.  He's your nephew,
Michael.  But he wants to be your son.  He loves you.  His coming to your
bed was an expression of his love.  It was the way he believed he should
. . . or the way he had long yearned to express his love for you, Michael.
No.  He's your son, Michael, just as Jeff is your son.  I've even heard you
refer to him sometimes as your son.  If this is the way you both wish to
express your father and son love for each other . . . the same way you and
your son Jeff express your love for each other . . . then it's right for
you to do it.  I will never consider it a break in your commitment to me."

Karl went from a kneeling position to sitting on the floor facing the fire
with his head resting on Michael's knee and his hand lightly massaging his
thigh.

Michael sat stunned, staring into the fire.  What had just happened, he
asked himself.  Did he hear it right?  Had Karl just forgiven him?  Or
didn't Karl consider his having sex, albeit only masturbation, with Clayton
as an act of infidelity?  What now?  There was still the question of Karl's
infidelity.  He obviously had another man in bed with him, and surely Karl
knew that Michael knew.  Why is Karl just sitting there silently?  Why
isn't he giving me the courtesy of talking to me about it without my having
to bring it up?  Oh God, what should I do now?

Karl finally turned to face Michael and began to get up.  "Michael, I have
to get another drink, and then we can talk some more.  Another for you?"

Staring intently into the fire, Michael said, Oh yeah."

When Karl returned with the drinks, he said, "Okay, Michael.  I'm ready to
talk about me . . . about what you heard on the phone that night."

Michael didn't know what to say . . . how to begin.

"All I can do," continued Karl, "is to just tell you what happened.  When I
finished talking to the Co-op that day, I went back to the Menger Hotel.  I
was not very successful at the Co-op and I had several double Scotches on
the rocks at the hotel bar.  I got into conversation with the bartender.
He wasn't particularly busy and we started telling each other about our
lives.  I think it wasn't too long before we both realized we were
attracted to each other.  He kept telling me he loved my English accent.
He asked me what room I was in.  I couldn't remember, so I took out my key
and showed it to him.  He must have written down the number.  I have to
admit I thought he was so hot.  But I was getting so high, he told me he
wasn't going to sell me anymore drinks, and that I should go on up to bed.

"When I finally got in bed, there was a knock at the door.  It was the
bartender.  He said it was midnight, and that is when he got off.  He took
off his clothes and hung them up without saying very much, and then got in
bed with me.  He was so hot, Michael, I let him in.  But, honest to God,
Michael, I couldn't get a hard-on.  He kept working on me and nothing
happened.  He kept saying he understood, and that my problem was due to
drinking too much.  We were lying there just cuddling and kissing when you
called.  Michael, I don't blame you for not believing me.  He left the room
right after you called, but he gave me his name and phone number and told
me he would like me to call him sometime when I was sober.  I'm never going
to call him, but I'm going to give you his phone number and I want you to
call him.  He'll tell you that nothing sexual happened and about how
smashed I was."

Michael said nothing.  He just kept staring into the fire and sipping on
his drink.  Of course, he was going to believe Karl.  What else could he
do?  What happened happened, whether or not he knew the truth.  No amount
of further questions or doubts would ever be worth losing Karl.  There was
still one major agonizing fact that had not been mentioned, and it troubled
Michael more than any other.  And that was the night that he and Jeff and
Paul spent in Adriano and Charlie's bed.  He had no excuse for that.  It
was something that happened after he learned that Karl was in bed with
someone in San Antonio.  It was a stupid thing to do.  It was an immature
thing to do.  How could he admit this to Karl?

"Karl.  There's one other thing.  I'll just come out and tell you, and then
if you want to, you can get up and walk out on me.  The morning after I was
with Clayton, I went up to Austin to see Jeff.  I just needed to be with
him.  And, of course, you can imagine he and Paul and I slept together that
night.  But we've talked about that before, and we agreed that I could
never give up on Jeff, or Paul if he was also there.  But they talked me
into going over and having dinner the next night with Adriano and Charlie.
I guess it was just like you.  I had too much to drink and the four of us
ended up in bed together.  I guess I'm just a whore, Karl.  You never knew
that, did you?"

Karl was sitting next to Michael and put his arm around him.  "Ya,
Michael," Karl said with a smile.  "I always knew you were just a fuckin'
slut.  Why do you think I went after you and finally caught you.  I wanted
a piece of that action."

Michael said, "Don't joke, Karl.  I'm beginning to lose respect for
myself."

"Why?"

"Because of what I've done.  Do you really think I'm a slut?"

"Uh ha," Karl nodded.

Michael sat quietly and continued to stare into the fire.  Karl took
Michael's head in his hands and kissed him deeply.

"Michael, just forget it," whispered Karl.  "I was drunk.  You were drunk.
You were upset.  Let's just forget it.  Do you love me, Michael?

"More than anything.  Do you still love me?"

"Yes, more than anything."

Karl and Michael stood up, and while standing in front of the fire, they
slowly undressed each other, revealing each other's nakedness in the
flickering red-orange light of the fire.  Sinking to the floor and
stretching their bodies out on the white fur rug before the fire, they
wrapped themselves in each other's arms and made love until dawn.


Please write me with your response to this story.  Comments of ANY kind are
very welcome and will be responded to.  Suggestions are also welcome.  But
as much as I appreciate the suggestion, I must say to those of you who have
from time to time suggested that women be brought into the sexual
situations as participants, that this is a story about male homosexual sex
and incest among male family members.  Also, there is no room for bi-sexual
behavior on the Walker Ranch.  Thank you very much anyway for the
suggestions.

Tom Borden
Write to:     tombor99@yahoo.com