Date: Thu, 01 Jun 2000 10:26:59 EDT
From: William Watts <bwstories44@hotmail.com>
Subject: A Tragic Love - chapter 9

Legal Notice:
The following story contains descriptions of graphic sexual acts.
The story is a work of fiction and has no basis in reality.

Don't read this story if:
**You're not 18 or over,
**If it is illegal to read this type of material where you live,
**Or if you don't want to read about gay/bi people in love or having sex.

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website or reproducing this story for distribution without the author's
permission is a violation of that copyright.  Legal action will be taken
against violators.

If you have enjoyed reading this story, you will find other stories by me at
http://www.teenboyauthors.org/thewolf/, in the 'Other Stories' section.

E-mail responses to the stories, story suggestions or other 'constructive'
comments or advice may be sent to: bwstories44@hotmail.com.

		*    *     *     *     *     *     *     *


A Tragic Love - by BW (Young-Friends).                       Copyright 2000
by bwstories44
Chapter 9 - Two different sides of life: the agony and the ecstasy.
        January 2000

I lie on my bed, my mind wandering over that fantastic February night and
every wonderful second of it.  We were so in love and we shared some of the
most intimate moments we have had so far.

David's father had not been too happy when we ran into him the next
afternoon but I shook it off as a bad day at the office.  David said later
that his father started making little comments about finding friends closer
to home and he told David that we came from two different worlds and we
would never be long- term friends.  We were beginning to wonder if his dad
had, somehow, found out about our sexual encounters.  David concluded that,
if he had, he would have most likely ordered David to stop seeing me, so we
dismissed the idea.

David and I were already planning to spend the week of spring break
together.  My mom was happy that I had such a special friend, if only she
knew how special, and she agreed to the arrangement.  This time, grandpa
grudgingly told my mom that he'd do my chores.  I was really glad that she
asked him this time and not me.

All signs of winter were starting to fade away and the warm spring weather
was starting to become the norm.  Every morning, I could hear the birds
begin to sing their welcome to the spring renewal of life and I could smell
of the signs of the blossoming of new plant life.

The time had come and we were attending our last day of classes before the
weeklong recess.  David told me that he wouldn't be back from an outing
with his dad (no, not that kind of outing) until late Sunday and I was to
come over Monday morning, late morning so he could sleep in.

I was kind of wishing that the poets and authors were right, that in the
spring a young boy's fancy turns to thoughts of love (and, hopefully, sex).
If I was truly lucky, David would be already infected.  Well, I know they
were right, at least about me.

Monday morning I set my alarm so I wouldn't oversleep.  I never set my
alarm when I'm on vacation.  Oh, well.  I guess that I'm hopeless.  Anyway,
I got out of bed, prepared myself and packed my backpack, looking forward
to five days alone with my soul mate.

I arrived at David's house but I didn't see him around.  I rang the
doorbell and one of the domestics let me in, she knew who I was from my
previous visits.  I bounded up the stairs, quietly opened his door and saw
him sleeping peacefully on his bed.  I ran toward the bed, threw my body in
the air and landed on my target.  David jolted upward as I made impact.

"Wake up, sleepyhead.  Time to rise and shine."

"You scared the shit out of me you asshole.  Fine way to treat the one you
love.  You almost gave me a heart attack."

"Sorry, I just couldn't resist the temptation."

"Apology accepted though I'm not sure why.  Let me get dressed and we'll go
get something to eat."

"I prefer you without your clothes."

"I bet you do but the help doesn't get much work done when I run around
nude."

"So, you've done that before."

"No, you asshole.  I just concluded that they would be hopelessly
distracted once they saw this perfect male specimen."

"Think again, buddy, and, hey, that's the second time in a few minutes that
you've called me an asshole.  Are you hinting that you want me to leave or
you don't love me any more?"

"Neither.  I was just was lashing out because of the extremely rude way I
was awakened.  Come on, I've got to eat to get enough strength to fool with
you."

"Multi-course breakfast coming up.  Follow me to your table, sir."

I ate, too, even though I had already eaten at home.  I guess my boy
metabolism was in overdrive in anticipation of the day's menu of events.
We finished breakfast slightly before lunchtime and we returned to David's
room.  David shut the door and made his first request.

"Billy, I'm very horny and I want you to ride my dick like you were busting
broncos.  What do you think?"

"I don't have to think.  I'm ready, willing and, I hope to prove to you,
able."

We started to undress each other, fumbling with the buttons, belts and
zippers, trying to fulfill David's needs.  We started the foreplay;
kissing, licking, groping - all the usual stuff.  David rolled over and
reached into his nightstand and extracted the bottle of baby oil I gave him
for Christmas.  I lubed up his granite pole and he started to oil up my
love tunnel.  He worked various combinations of fingers into my chute until
I informed him I was ready.

David laid on the bed, pushing his penis forward so it was standing up
straight.  I squatted over him, lowering my pucker hole until it touched
the head of his cock.  I dropped onto it, swallowing the head quickly, and
then I slid down his shaft until my testicles were resting in his patch of
pubic hair.

He smiled blissfully, in anticipation of what was to come, and I started to
ride my boy like I was a rodeo star.  I was launching skyward and then
crashing back into his lap, delirious from the sensations that his penis
caused as it constantly stroked my prostrate.  We were in the throws of
passion when the door to his room opened and we realized, too late, that
the door was never locked.

"David.  Have you seen my.."

It was David's dad and he froze when he saw what we were doing.

"You fucking little faggot.  What are you doing to my son?"

I jumped off of David and landed on the far side of his bed, away from his
father.  I was trying to apologize to him as I reached for my clothes.  I
found my pants and shirt but I knew that my sneakers were on the other side
of the bed.  There was no way I was going to worry about my briefs and my
socks.

I looked up and saw David's father charging me, approaching around the foot
of the bed.  I leapt in the air and bounded over the still immobile form of
my lover and I landed on the floor on the other side of the bed.  I grabbed
my sneakers, flew out the door, bounded down the back stairs and bolted out
of the house.  I ran off of the deck and onto the lawn, heading toward the
tree house.  When I turned around, there was no one following me and I
decided that David's father must have either given up or he was talking to
David.  Damn, was I glad that I wasn't in my lover's place?

I dressed quickly and put on my shoes.  I was just finishing tying the
laces when I saw David's father striding out onto the deck.  He looked
around, saw me under the tree and came off the deck the same side that I
had.  As he moved in my direction, I ran to the other side of the yard,
past the pool, through the barbecue/bar area and out the gate by the
garage.  I ran out front, jumped on my bike and headed for home.  When I
was at the end of the first block, I heard a car start behind me.  I looked
back and saw David's father backing his car into the street.  Shit, he
wasn't going to give up.

I started cutting down side streets, turning left here and right there,
trying to lose his father in a maze of streets.  I had turned several
times, as I approached the less desirable side of town, and I neared the
road that would take me to my grandfather's house.  Thank god that David's
father didn't know exactly where I lived.  I was making my final turn
before I reached the home stretch when I heard the wailing of a siren and
saw the flashing lights of a police car approaching rapidly from behind me.
Damn!  He must have called the police from his cell phone while he was
driving his car.

I pedaled up my road, with the cop car pulling up even with me, and the
officer inside the vehicle was telling me to give up.

"Pull it over, son.  You can't outrun a car."

I kept going.  There was no way I was going to let him lock me up.

"Listen kid.  Stop right now before you force me to take more serious
action.

I pedaled harder, ignoring his advice.

"Have it your way, kid," he yelled as he swerved car in front of my bike
and slammed on the brakes.

I tried to avoid crashing into his fender but the front tire of the bike
grazed the front bumper of the car and the collision threw me into the
ditch.  When I looked up, the policeman was standing over me, reaching to
help me up.  I tried to move away but he grabbed my shirt.  I swiveled
around, unexpectedly, and knocked his arm away, causing him to lose his
grip on my garment.

I heard him utter a few expletives as I raced up the bank.  I was just
about to reach the top of the little knoll when something entangled my legs
and caused me to come crashing forward.  I later found out that the officer
had tackled me.  It was my luck that he was a former high school football
player.

He slid his body forward, putting his weight on the back on my legs.  He
grabbed my left arm, twisted it behind my back, and I felt the cold steel
of the handcuffs slide around my wrist.  With my left arm secure, he
reached for my right arm and performed the same operation.  Now, there
wasn't a whole hell of a lot that I could do.

He pulled me into a standing position and dragged me down the embankment,
toward his car.  Just before he pushed me into the back seat, he addressed
me.

"You're in a whole heap of shit now, son."  What a masterful way to state
the obvious.

As the officer was loading my bike into the trunk, I saw Mr. Michaels drive
up behind us.  He glared at me through the back window, pointed to the bike
and said something to the policeman, then, got back in his car and drove
away.

The cop got back in his car and, the next thing I knew, I was standing in
front of the desk sergeant, who was filling out some forms.  I was placed
in a cell, away from all other prisoners (probably because of my age), and
I sat alone shaking, wondering what would happen to me next.

I was overwhelmed by this massive sinking feeling in the pit of my gut that
told me that my life, as I knew it, was over and I would probably never see
David again.  I sat there becoming more and more depressed when the main
door opened and in walked my mother, my grandfather and some guy in a suit.

I couldn't look my mother or grandfather in the eye, as they introduced the
other man as my attorney, Mr.  Shay.  I couldn't believe this, me in need
of a lawyer.  Who'd have thought that I would have ended up in a mess like
this?

Mr. Shay started to explain the situation and he let all of us know what
would happen next.

"The boy's a juvenile, so this will be handled in family court.  We will
have to go before the judge, he will order an investigation, some people
will come to visit and talk with you and then the judge will make a ruling.
Even though it looks bleak, you're in the best possible position by having
this dealt with in family court and not in criminal court."

"What's the boy charged with?"  That was my grandfather asking the
question.

"From what I've seen, he's being charge with petty larceny and resisting
arrest."

"What'd you steal, Billy?"  My grandfather asked, looking me directly in
the eye.

"Nothing, honest."

"Mr. Shay.  What did they say the boy stole?"

"The report mentioned something about a bicycle but I won't know for sure
until I get my copy of the complaint form."

"I didn't steal the bike.  My friend, David, gave it to me."

"Well, if we can verify that, we can get rid of that charge.  They'll
probably release Billy into your custody while we wait to go to court but
he'll probably end up here for the night.  They still have to finish
filling out the charges, get complaints signed, forward copies to the
D.A.'s office and me and, then, find a judge to hear the preliminary.
Court will most likely be out for the day before all of that is done.  Just
hold in there, Billy, and I'll see you tomorrow morning.  Mr. &
Mrs. Maynard, if you'll come with me I have some things to go over with you
and some paperwork that needs to be signed."

"My name's Ross.  Maynard was the last name of my daughter's worthless
husband," my grandfather snapped back at my lawyer.

"Sorry, my mistake.  Mrs. Maynard and Mr. Ross, will you please follow me?

I watched them leave and I heard the dull thud of the lock closing behind
them, telling me that I was completely alone in this place.  I felt great
when the lawyer told me that we could get the theft charged dropped but my
heart sank when he told me that I'd probably have to spend the night.

I looked at my surroundings.  The cell must have been about ten feet long
and ten feet wide.  It had a stainless steel cot, with a thin mattress,
sheet and blanket and some ratty old pillow.  There was a stainless steel
sink, a stainless steel toilet (with no toilet seat) and a stainless steel
table with a stool, both of which were bolted down to the cement floor.
Yeah, this looked like it was going to be a whole lot of fun.

About an hour later, I heard the door being opened again and one of the
guards came in carrying a tray of food and a carton of milk.  It looks like
it is dinnertime.  There was some unknown meat, a few French fries and a
scoop of corn on the tray.  There was also a small piece of cake, which
reminded me of the birthday cake that David and I had shared on our special
night.

The guard came back a half an hour later and collected the tray and spoon I
ate with.  He said lights out would be at nine and breakfast would be
served at six.  I haven't gone to bed by nine since I was eight and I don't
remember ever getting up by six.  I walked over and lie down on the cot,
staring at the ceiling and going over the events of the day in my head.  My
dream week, which I had looked forward to with such expectation, had just
crashed and burned.  Now, I was spending my vacation behind bars.  I must
have drifted off to sleep, constantly replaying the nightmare that had only
just begun.

		*    *     *     *     *     *     *     *

If you have enjoyed reading this story, you will find other stories by me at
http://www.teenboyauthors.org/thewolf/, in the 'Other Stories' section.
E-mails may be sent to: bwstories44@hotmail.com.