Author: John Smutt Title: Little Joey Goes Down the List Chapters 1-3 Summary: 11-year-old Joey wants to meet naughty men for sex. Luckily, the government keeps a list of naughty boy-fucking men online. But the men he meets have a darker side than he had imagined. Keywords: Mb, anal, oral E-mail comments to johnsmuttxxx@gmail.com Prologue The young boy stood at the sidewalk, flicking the edge of the folder in his hand. It was time. The only thing left to do was walk up the driveway. A giant centipede of nervousness was crawling in his stomach. A passing school bus reminded Joey that he needed to get this done and leave for home before dinner. The man who answered the doorbell was tall, with three days of stubble and short, unkempt, salt-and-pepper hair. His eyes were sky blue. Under his plaid work shirt, he had strong shoulders and a wide chest with a hint of pot belly. His hands were surprisingly delicate looking. "Good afternoon, sir, my name is Joey Ma-" "Whatever you're selling, kid, I ain't buying. You've got to get out of here." "If you'd give me just-" "I said 'scram', kid. I could get into a lot of trouble talking to you." "Sir, this isn't-" The door slammed in Joey's face. He stood, stunned, for a minute then walked home. He had imagined the man would be glad to talk to him. His friend and neighbor, Henry, was waiting for him. Henry was eleven, like Joey, but a little shorter. "How'd it go?" Henry asked. "Not good. He refused to talk to me." "But didn't you explain?" asked Henry. "He didn't let me get that far." "So what're you gonna do?" "I don't know." Chapter 1 It was two weeks later. Joey was in Mrs. Langstrom's back yard. The old lady hardly ever stepped out of her house, so he felt safe using it to spy on the man through the spaces in the tall wooden fence. He had been observing the man, hoping for some kind of clue as to how he could approach him again. At the moment the man was lying under a tree in his backyard, reading a book. It was hard for Joey to see him clearly, but he kept looking. The man's yard was neat and full of flower bushes. He even had a small gazebo that he was renovating himself. The man got up. He was walking over to the fence! Joey kept very still. The man did not speak, but simply dropped a folded piece of yellow paper. Then the man walked straight into the house. In rushed-looking handwriting, the note said, 'Come inside. NOW.' Joey looked at the back door. It was hanging open. No sign of the man. The gate in the fence opened easily, like it had been well oiled. This was Joey's last chance to turn back. The door stayed open, the sound of a baseball game drifting out. Holding his book bag tight, Joey walked into the man's kitchen. It was neat, like the rest of the house. The man was sitting at the dinner table. "Close the door," said the man. "I don't want anyone to see you." Joey quickly obeyed. "Sit," said the man. Joey sat. "Now, tell me who sent you to spy on me." "I wasn't spying, Doctor Parish. I only wanted-" "You *were* spying, Joey. And I'm not a doctor. Not anymore." Joey sat in silence trying to imagine how much the man knew about him. Parish's eyes were intense as he leaned closer. "Yes, Joey, I know who you are. I know who your parents are. I know where you live on Benton Street. I know that you just turned eleven a few weeks ago. What I don't know is why you're making trouble for me." The man gripped Joey's hands in his. "Who sent you and what do they want?" "Nobody sent me." "Then what is this about?" Mr. Parish let Joey take his right hand back. The boy lifted his folder out of his bag and slid it across the table. Still holding Joey's other hand in his strong grip, Mr. Parish opened the folder suspiciously. Joey knew what Mr. Parish was seeing: The first sheet was a webpage printout. Across the top was the title, 'Hiscock County Sexual Offenders Database'. Below that was Mr. Parish's picture, his face looking tired and stressed as he stood before a white wall with vertical lines that gave his height as 6'2". His full name was listed on the left - Bartholemew Aaron Parish. And the crime was listed under that: 'Lewd and lascivious conduct with a minor. Coercion by authority.' Two bold-lettered sentences sat in the middle of the page - 'Victim was 10 at the time of the offence,' and 'Offender was 34 at the time of the offence.' Mr. Parish's breathing seemed to have stopped as Joey watched him read. The man slowly turned the page. It was another printout, this time a news article telling that Dr. Bart Parish, a reknown heart surgeon, was being stripped of his license to practice medicine because he had molested a 10-year-old boy in his care. The third page was a copy of a small article in the local print newspaper from a year earlier which mentioned that Bart Parish, age 41, was being released on early parole and was required to register as a sex offender and stay away from children. Mr. Parish closed the folder slowly. He gripped Joey's hand painfully and said, "So what is this? You want to blackmail me?" "No. I only thought-" "Because I'm one hundred percent legal. I'm not living too close to any playgrounds or schools. I don't put out Halloween candy. I even told my parole officer when you came around to visit me the first time, even though all you did was knock on my door." "I'm not trying to blackmail you. It's-" "Well, then what is it? What is your obsession with me?" Joey bit his lip and then looked at the tabletop as he spoke, unable to keep contact with Mr. Parish's intense blue eyes. "I...I was thinking maybe...a date?" Joey grimaced at how stupid he probably sounded. "Are you crazy?" shouted Mr. Parish. "I...I'm sorry," said Joey. "I just-" "Do you have any idea the Hell my life is right now? I can't be a surgeon anymore! I have to pee in a cup every month. If anyone knows I'm talking to you, I'll get sent straight to fucking jail for ten more years. Just so you can play stupid fucking games?" Joey made himself as small as possible in his seat as the big man raged. He had no idea how to calm him. "Listen to me," said Mr. Parish. "You get out of here and never come back. Go!" When Joey reached the kitchen door, he turned to ask for his folder, but Mr.Parish yelled, "Leave!" and slammed his fist into the top of the table. Joey bolted. ...... At home, Joey and Henry sat glumly, thinking about the disaster of contacting Mr. Parish. "So that's it?" asked Henry. "That's it." Joey closed the browser window on his computer, which was showing the home page of the offenders database. "It was stupid to think this would work." "Yeah. And dangerous. I'm glad you're done with this." ...... Joey left the ticket booth and walked to his movie. He was nervous. If not for his curiosity, he would not be here. At the theater door, Joey double checked the note in his pocket. It was typewritten and said simply, "Royal Cinemas 24. 1:30pm, Saturday. Screen 9. Back row." The note had been taped to his bike when he got out of school the day before. This was screen nine. The movie was a subtitled French import, "Les Freres Heureux," and none of the kids from school that he'd seen in the lobby would be setting foot in it. Very few people would, it seemed. Only five seats were taken in the theater. Joey waited in the back until the lights dimmed. As the previews ran, Joey thought about the computer at home. It was a week since he had told Henry he was done with the list, but last night he had started browsing the entries again. It was like an itch. Time after time, Joey had been astonished at how thick the map was with little arrows showing how many men in his neighborhood were into children. He cut off his musings as the movie started. About fifteen minutes in, a lone figure entered the theater holding a large drink and a tub of popcorn. He let his eyes adjust for a few moments and then walked right to Joey, sitting in the next seat. "Hello, Joey." It was Mr. Parish. "Um, hi." "Enjoying the movie?" "Not really," said Joey. "It's kind of boring. All they do is make fun of people." "But that's what lots of comedy is about. Take those Pie movies, for instance." "I'm not allowed to watch R-rated movies." Mr. Parish talked with Joey quietly through the movie. He pointed out things the translator missed in the subtitles and explained cultural details in the movie that made it more interesting. Joey asked questions when he was puzzled, but mostly kept quiet, overwhelmed by the large, masculine presence of Mr. Parish. They shared the popcorn, their hands bumping on occasion and used the same straw to take sips of the soda. The whole thing was strange and nerve-wracking for Joey. In the back of his mind, he knew that they needed to talk about the sex thing. Why else would Mr. Parish call him here? Joey could not stand the suspense. When the credits started to roll, Mr Parish's heavy hand rested on the back of Joey's neck. Even if he had wanted to get up, Joey doubted he could have. "So, little Joey, was that enough of a date for you?" Joey's eyes flickered to the exit as the last of the audience left the theater. Now he was alone with an actual child molester. "It was cool talking to you and all." Mr. Parish's hand was massaging his neck, sending shivers down Joey's spine. "And sitting alone in the dark with a man?" "That was cool too." "How did it make you feel?" Joey swallowed. How could he explain something he wasn't sure he understood himself? "Good," Joey said. He sensed disappointment from Mr. Parish at his vague answer and immediately tried to please the man by giving him more. "I felt special. Like I was the only kid in my whole school who had a man friend treating him this way. Like I was important to you." Mr. Parish became more serious. "I looked at that folder you left behind, Joey. There were pages on six more men in there. All on the offenders list." Joey stayed quiet, almost hypnotized by the feeling of Mr. Parish's fingers on him. The man had nimble fingers for sure, but they were also callused and rough. "Tell me Joey, are you to be visiting these men next?" "I...I was thinking about it." "And you were going to offer yourself to them too?" "Yes," admitted Joey, looking at the floor. "For sex? Not just a chance for you to flirt and tease?" "Well, I wasn't sure what would happen. I mostly was just curious and thought that you- or one of the other guys- would show me stuff." Mr. Parish's other hand stroked along Joey's knee. Joey squirmed in his seat. The big man spoke almost to himself, "So if I don't take on the job of being your guide, you're going to go find one anyway?" "Probably." "And why did you pick me?" "What?" "Why was I the first on the list?" "Your house was pretty close-" The man's hand gripped the tender spot above his knee. "You have to be honest with me, little Joey. This isn't going to work unless you tell me everything." "I...I liked your eyes. In your photos. I-" Joey forced himself to think hard, knowing that Mr. Parish would not be satisfied with some fuzzy answer. He wanted so much to please the man. "You eyes were so bright and blue. And it made you seem so smart and...virile? Is that the right word?" "Maybe." said Mr. Parish, a smile forming on his face. "I got this sense from your photo...from your eyes...that you would be strong and interesting." "You're pretty interesting yourself," said Mr. Parish, his face coming closer to Joey's. "I think I'll have to give serious consideration to you." Joey gasped when the man's tongue licked along the rim of his ear as the firm hand kept him in place. Joey closed his eyes and waited, but the man pulled back. Joey looked over at Mr. Parish. His eyes were practically burning blue as he looked down on Joey. "I'll be in touch, little Joey." Then he walked out, leaving the boy slumped in his seat with a rock hard dick. ...... Joey found another typed note on his bike on Monday. It said, "Mrs. Langstrom needs some garden work done. Tuesday, 4pm. Tell your parents." The next day, the boy walked up the house's driveway nervously. What was he supposed to say? Mr. Parish's pickup truck was not in his driveway next door. When would he get here? Joey's night had been full of speculation and masturbation. He knew that today was the day when something (he wasn't sure what, but something) was going to happen. He had watched videos and read stories on the net. Now it was for real. "Hi there," said Mrs. Langstrom when she answered the doorbell. She had grey streaks in her hair and stood to favor one hip. Her smile was warm. She asked, "Joey, right?" "Right, ma'am." "Bart said you'd be good for my weed problem. I can't afford to pay you a lot, but he says you like to help out." Clearly, he was supposed to say yes. "I do like to help out." "Good. I've got some tools at the side of the house. Let me get them." Joey worked for an hour on the patch he was given. He kept looking down the street for Mr. Parish, but the man never showed. Sweaty and grimy, Joey reported to Mrs. Langstrom when he was done. "See you on Thursday," she said as he rode away with five dollars in his pocket. On Wednesday, there was another note taped to his bike. "Thursday, 4pm. Mrs. Langstrom." On Thursday, Joey worked another hard hour for the old lady, this time in the back. He could see into Mr. Parish's empty yard. No one was home. It had to be Mr. Parish sending the notes, so where was he? The sun was hot and Joey was stripped to his jeans by the end, sweat on his bare chest. He wished Mr. Parish could come home and see him like that. He was sure he would look sexy to a child molester: his dark blond hair mussed up, his slim, smooth torso all shiny. But the man never showed. Joey's mother told him that night that Mrs. Langstrom had called. She was quite pleased with the boy's work and hoped he could give her some time on Saturday. "I'm very proud of you," said his mother. "You're growing up." ...... Saturday morning, there was no sign of Mr. Parish's pickup again. Joey worked 2 hours. Mrs. Langstrom called him in for cookies before he went home. It wasn't even noon. "You should probably go clean up first," said Mrs. Langstrom. "There's a shower upstairs. You can use the towels on the rack." The water felt good on Joey's naked skin. He had really worked hard, despite knowing that his yard work was some kind of ruse. He had even enjoyed himself digging up weeds. After he had cooled down under the shower, he stepped out of the water to grab the soap. "Hello little Joey." Mr. Parish was standing on the outside the translucent shower curtain. Joey covered his crotch and half crouched. The man laughed. "Really, Joey, I thought you *wanted* to be naked for me." "But- I mean, Mrs. Langstrom's downstairs." "Don't worry about her." Mr. Parish was undressing on the other side. "She could come upstairs and see us." "No," said Mr. Parish, pulling back the curtain, "she won't." Naked, the man looked huge. His shoulders were strong and his biceps large. His beefy torso was covered in dark, almost furry, hair. So were his legs and crotch. Hanging down between his legs was a large, semi-stiff cock with two prominent veins running down the left side. It was circumcised, which disappointed Joey, just a bit, since he'd never seen a foreskin in real life. Joey automatically stepped back, the spray of water brushing his back, as the man entered. It was hard to imagine this hulk was a surgeon. Mr. Parish held Joey's shoulders. The fingers were that strange mix of rough and nimble. "You asked for this," the man stated, his blue eyes penetrating into Joey. "You better decide of you really want it." Joey froze. Yes, he had planned for this. Yes, he had wanted it to be with *this* man. But it was like standing at the top of a fifty-foot diving board. "Well?" asked Mr. Parish. "Yes, I want this." "That's not the answer I'm looking for." What could he mean, Joey wondered. "I really want this. Please, Mr. Parish. I want to...have sex with you." "You're still not giving me the right answer." Mr. Parish had a disappointed look on his face. It made Joey feel desperate. He looked up questioningly at Mr. Parish's stern face. The man said, "You're going to need to do more than just tell me what you want." He nodded down to his now-erect cock. "Show me." The hard hands on Joey's shoulders pressed him down, making him kneel on the rubber bath mat. The man took a half a step closer, into the shower stream, bringing his cock head right next to Joey's chin. The water soaked Mr. Parish and ran down his body onto Joey. A big streamlet poured off the tip of the big cock onto his chest. Above him, the man's wet body looked like that of some animal god, wet hair plastered to wide muscles. A tingle ran up Joey's spine from his ass. Trying not to grab too fast, he wrapped his fingers about the lower half of the erect cock, not able to encircle it all. The man's hand grasped his head by the hair at the back and pulled Joe's face towards his crotch. Joey's smooth chest was against the man's hairy thighs and he wrapped his arms about them for balance. His nose was pressed into the hair at the base of the man's cock. He could smell the musk of it, seemingly amplified by the wetness. Joey's penis was nail hard. As the water poured down, he nuzzled the cock, letting it's length and weight slide along his cheek and neck. He kissed the man's crotch, then the lower part of the shaft. He twisted his face underneath, lapping at the thick tubes under the skin. The cock felt like it weighed a ton against his forehead. Mr. Parish pulled Joey closer to his balls and Joey sucked on the hairy sack. It was also heavy, seemingly immovable as he pressed his face against it. The man pushed Joey's head back and Joey instinctively opened his mouth before the man's cock, his head tilted up. The wide cock head slipped through his straining lips. He fit a couple of inches into his mouth and tried to suck. It was hard with the constant pouring water, which was seeping in his nostrils and through his lips. He almost felt like he was drowning, like there was no air to breathe, yet he floated on a light-headed sense of purpose and kept sucking. The man's hand moved him back and forth just a bit, starting a slow fucking motion. Joey lost track of time, as he mouthed the cock, slurping away. Then the man gently pulled him up by the hair. He was face to chest with the man now. "Turn around," said Mr. Parish, turning off the water. Joey's stomach jumped. Was this going to happen right here? Him getting fucked? He allowed the man to pivot him into the wall. "Spread your legs," said Mr. Parish. Again, Joey did not obey so much as let the man position him. "Grab the wall." Mr. Parish's hand on his back bent Joey over. Thick wet liquid splashed against his lower back. At first he thought it might be Mr. Parish cumming over him, but this was cool and the scent of strawberry's was in the air. Shower gel. With his skilled hands, Mr. Parish starting spreading the gel over Joey's back. The man used his soaping up of the boy to explore him everywhere. Searching fingers slid under his armpit, down his sides, up his chest and over his erect nipples. The idea that he as being...inspected...made Joey feel even smaller before the big man. Hands stroked down his slim thighs, front, side and back. Then Mr. Parish reached under him, through his spread legs, and held Joey's small genitals in a possessive grip. The fingers toyed with hs balls while the thumb stroked at his stiff shaft. This sensation of the man's hands on his privates felt more like he was being dominated than even having Mr. Parish's adult cock in his mouth. The man took his time. He soaped Joey's butt, sliding along the channel between his ass cheeks. He shampooed the boy's hair and even stroked each of Joey's fingers individually. Just when it seemed the man was done with him, Mr. Parish would revisit some part of his body, stroking and squeezing it. "Do me," The man finally said. He turned Joey around and placed the bottle of gel in his hand. Joey squeezed out a liberal amount of the strawberry-scented gel in his hand and then smeared it up the man's hairy belly. The wet, thick hair felt so good against his fingers in combination with the slippery gel. He used both hands to rub the soap into every part of the man's torso. He spent a good time on the wide pectoral muscles. He reached up with splayed arms and stroked over the smooth, hard shoulders. Then he squirted some more gel and stroked down the even harder biceps and forearms. His two hands could not fit even halfway around the man's big thighs and he knelt on one knee so he could adequately reach around to cover all of it. The man jumped a bit when he stroked the back of his knee. Ticklish perhaps? By this time the smell of the cock at his face was distracting him and he did not want to make the man impatient so he stood and poured out more gel. Then he got his first real feel of the man's equipment. He ran his fingers through the thick pubes then reverently encircled the the heavy shaft and slid his palms all over and around it. The thing seemed impossibly hot and vibrant, pulsing slowly as he massaged it. "Here," said Mr. Parish, handing him the shampoo. The man did not lean down. Joey had to tip-toe, his slender body leaning on Mr. Parish's wide immovable one. The big, warm cock bumped against Joey's own hard boy dick. The man and boy looked into each other's eyes as Joey used both hands to lather the Mr. Parish's hair. It seemed to Joey like he was standing under two searchlights and he turned his head ever so slightly. After a minute, Mr. Parish held Joey close and stepped forward. He turned the water on and as it poured over them, Joey pressed the side of his face into the man's chest, arms circling his wide back. Mr. Parish's hands again roamed his body, helping to wash away the soap. Then the man turned the water off and snapped Joey alert with a hard squeeze of his butt cheeks. Outside the tub, they each grabbed a towel. There was a sense of ceremony to it. The man let Joey dry him, again not leaning or moving in any way to help. Joey had to repeat his tip-toe lean to dry Mr. Parish's head. After the man was dry, Mr. Parish wrapped Joey in another towel and rubbed him vigorously. Leaving their clothes behind, the towel clad man walked the boy out of the bathroom with a hand between the should blades. "Mrs. Langstrom-" "She won't bother us." "Did you do something to her? Drug her?" The man looked shocked and offended at first, then he laughed. "God, no. I'm not a monster, you know." Joey thought, 'Your *cock* is monstrous.' "Thank you," said Mr. Parish. Joey blushed that he had spoken his impression aloud. Two doors away from the bathroom, Mr. Parish led Joey into what was clearly a boy's bedroom. Race car posters were on the walls and Dungeons and Dragons games were on the shelves. "This used to be Mrs. Langstrom's son's room. He's long grown up, but she's never seen the need to change it." The room was bright. There were three large windows with translucent blinds letting in the light while keeping the inside private. The ceiling was high and the room was clean and smelled like fresh laundry. Mr. Parish pulled a tube of KY gel from the dresser drawer. "Get on the bed, Joey." Joey sat on the edge of the bed. He felt vulnerable with the room door open, but was distracted by the man dropping his towel and walking over to him. "Suck me again," Mr. Parish said. "And this time watch the teeth." It pained Joey that he had fallen short in his cock-sucking before and that planted a compulsion in him to be perfect at it. He took the hard cock shaft in his hand and bent his neck forward. He took time to awkwardly shield his teeth with his lips and still open wide enough to take the man inside and swallowed the head. He started sucking. "Get me good and wet, little Joey. It's going in your ass next and the slipperier it is the better." Joey slobbered on the man's thick cock. He spread the saliva bit by bit down the veiny shaft with his lips keeping close contact with the cock as he made small motions forward and back. Before today, he had not spent much time thinking about what would happen if Mr. Parish accepted his indecent proposal, trusting that the experienced man would know how these things were done. But this brisk march to sex was too fast for him. He had thought that his first time alone with Mr. Parish would have involved some talking, getting to know each other's favorite desserts or somesuch...maybe with the man giving him some secret wisdom about the world of homosexuality. Instead, he was in a room with what was practically a stranger, sucking his cock and almost certainly was about to take that same cock in his ass. By now, Joey was moving up and down two-thirds of the man's thick shaft with a rocking motion that demanded his torso as well as his neck. At the end of each plunge, the big head rammed his throat and made him gurgle. The man commanded him, "Lie flat on your stomach in the center of the bed. Spread your legs." No guiding hand touched him. No more words were spoken. He was going to have to offer himself up as sacrifice to the man's cock with complete willingness. It was thrilling, scary and humiliating all at once. He was going to get what he wanted and he would probably like it, but he was submitting himself to this man. He was admitting that he was a faggot by not resisting in any way. "Mr. Parish, maybe we could-" The man pressed a big finger to Joey's lips, but did not speak himself. He just waited. With a gulp, Joey stood and removed his towel. Then he turned to the vintage G.I.Joe bed sheets and placed his palms down on them. He half expected a push on his butt, but the man behind him stayed still. Joey crawled forward on all fours, then dropped his chest to the top of the bed. Then he widened his knees and brought his crotch to the bed as well. He was now exposed, his ass on view for the man behind him. "Good boy, Joey," said Mr. Parish. "Remember, I'm in charge and we do whatever I say, but you must also show me that you want this or you get nothing from me." Again Joey felt a flash of shame. This man was a molester. A 'predator' the web page had said, but Joey was giving in to him, like a gazelle without the sense to stay away from the lion. Something was wrong with him he was sure. But, he could not keep himself from giving in. The mattress shifted as the heavy man got on besides Joey. The boy was expecting cold gel at his butt hole, but instead he got warm lips on his shoulder. "You are a beautiful boy, young Joey," the man said before kissing his shoulder again. Now the man was covering him, Mr. Parish's heavy chest against his back. "You are like a prince or a little angel." More kisses, this time drifting towards his neck, then up towards his left ear. "I can't believe I'm going to get to fuck you in your tight little ass." A cold, blunt fingertip of gel tapped at Joey's hole, making him jump. "Easy, Joey. Easy. This won't hurt unless you fight it. Just relax." Relax? He was about to get fucked! Still, Joey took some deep breaths and they seemed to help. The finger at his hole made small, pressing circles. Then it popped inside. "Unggh," gasped Joey. The uncomfortable finger pressed in, until it was as far as it could go. The man wobbled the finger about, getting more and more freedom as he worked on Joey. The boy squirmed. Two fingers were soon loosening his butthole. After a few minutes of methodical twisting, the man was satisfied and pulled the fingers out. "Time for the real fun," said Mr. Parish. Then the man pulled Joey up by the waist and slid two pillows under his stomach, leaving his ass propped up and ready to be fucked. The man swung his leg over Joey's thighs, straddling him and making the wet tip of his hard cock drag along the two cheeks of the boy's ass. Joey's gut tightened. He was not sure he wanted this, but he could think of nothing to say. Mr. Parish grabbed around Joey's chest with his forearms and leaned down against the boy's back, his furry chest grazing Joey's skin. With his other hand, Mr. Parish lined the tip of his cock up with Joey's hole. Joey's breathing got shallow and erratic. He finally spoke. "Mr. Parish-" The man pushed in. The front end lodged inside and stretched his hole wide. It felt like he'd been stung all around the rim of his boy hole. "Aaauurgh. Ohh. Oowwhh!" Joey was conscious that he could not be too loud and he bit his lip to keep quiet. The man kept pushing, though. Nothing violent, but constant and insistent thrusting, penetrating more and more with each jab. Joey let out little whimpers with each one. He could picture his butt passage like a measuring cylinder from his science class, with marks down the side telling how far Mr. Parish's stiff cock was inside him, burning his ass is it went along. He was limp on top of the pillows, his head resting sideways on the sheet. Joey could taste a little blood on his lip as he strained to keep his whimpers from becoming yelps or even screams. The movement of the cock in his ass seemed to spread his insides like a tree branch. Why had he gotten himself into this? What made him think this would be fun for a boy? Surely Joey should have known that there was a reason his friends weren't seeking out men on their own? Men like Mr. Parish were being sent to jail and put on warning lists for a reason; because they hurt boys. Joey's toes curled as the man lost patience and slammed him with one last lunge, his crotch slapping Joey's ass. Joey squealed. "God, your ass feels good, little Joey. You've got my whole cock in you." The man lay quiet for a while, just breathing deeply against Joey's ear. Joey's invaded ass felt stretched and hurting. The stinging, tearing sensation had eased, but the burning inside had only gotten worse as Mr. Parish had gone deeper. The hand under his chest gripped him tighter. Joey grabbed a quick breath and held it, knowing that the man was about to go at him. Mr. Parish was calm. He eased out like he was backing a car out of a driveway. The pulling, stinging feeling came back as the cock moved in Joey, alongside a sense of relief as the big head retreated. Halfway out, Mr. Parish pushed carefully back in again. Joey filled up with cock and wheezed reflexively as he lost his breath. "You're doing well, Joey." The man kissed his cheek and ran his fingers through his hair in a friendly way. "The hardest part is over. Just bear it a bit more and you're going to get what you wanted." The words did make Joey feel better. He'd already taken the man all the way. Without the dread of anticipation to worry about, he was able to take a few deep breaths and his muscles relaxed. "You feel so good," said Mr. Parish. "I could fuck your ass forever. It's so tight and silky in there." Joey blushed at these compliments. How should he respond to something like that? The man continued, "Your ass is like the Ferrari of asses. It just feels like a dream." The man slowly pulled out again, coming almost all the way out before pushing steadily back in. The burning and stretching was only marginally better. His hole still felt obscenely stretched. Which made sense because you couldn't get much more obscene than being stretched by a thick cock. It hurt every time the cock passed against his hole. Joey also hurt every time the cock spread his guts on the way in. The fucking continued at a measured pace. The man seemed to be testing Joey's limits with a faster lunge only occasionally, with the increase being small enough to avoid traumatic pain. The pain did not go away, but Joey found he was getting used to it, able to anticipate and prepare for it. His distress leveled off, then fell slowly. He found he was aware of other sensations now. Mr. Parish's weight against his butt and back combined with the the arms wrapped around his chest made Joey feel under the man's control. This was the closest he had ever been with another human being. After all, there was nothing closer than having someone inside you, free to do as they wished. It was the first completely pleasant sensation for Joey since Mr. Parish had shown up in the bathroom, with no fear or pain: That feeling of closeness with Mr. Parish and the man's ownership of him. It gave him a sense of security and comfort. Without realising it before, this was what he had wanted when he had started combing through the Offenders Database months ago. This was what he had wanted even before that, from the time he had first started taking note of the men he encountered, admiring the way the special ones moved, with that air of confidence. Mr. Parish was stroking him too, letting his fingertips slide along his skin, taking note of Joey as much as giving him ticklish, soothing feelings. The man nuzzled against his neck and licked him there and behind his ears. The thick chest hair rubbed against Joey's back. The insides of the man's strong thighs pressed against Joey's own skinny thighs. Joey felt alive, with the movement above, and in, his body pushing waves of breathless pleasure up and down his spine. And above all that floated the realization that he'd lost his virginity. He was getting fucked. By a man. Joey welcomed the feel of Mr. Parish in him and groaned aloud. "Heh," Mr. Parish chuckled. "Getting to like it, huh?" "Mmhmm." Joey was afraid to try speaking. Mr. Parish took his groans as a sign of comfort and started thrusting into Joey with longer, firmer strokes. Again Joey bit his lip as the pain increased alongside the thrill of the man's meaty cock moving inside him. There was a complicated mess of nerves in and around his butt that sang in pleasure with each thrust and withdrawal. Faster and faster the man fucked him. Soon he was being rammed steadily and his face was sliding along the soft sheets as his whole body rocked under Mr. Parish's power. The man started to get vocal. "Urrgghhhh. Oooohhhh. Yes, Joey. Yes." He squeezed Joey tighter. "Take it, Joey. Take it. Take it. Take my fucking cock, you little slut." Each thrust gave of a gentle slapping sound as Mr. Parish smacked against his ass. Then Mr. Parish switched to heaving, stiff thrusts into Joey's sore ass as he orgasmed. They pain came back with the heavy fucking. Joey gritted his teeth and struggled to breath. With each deep thrust the man grunted loudly, "Uuhhnnggh!" Again and again, until he was done. After cumming up Joey, the man's grunts quieted gradually as the power in his fucking eased into a gentle rocking. The man chewed with his lips on Joey's ear. Mr. Parish said, "That was beautiful, little Joey. That was first class. I haven't cum that hard in years." Joey's mind was too dizzy to answer. A man had just cum in his ass. Joey could barely believe it. He had sperm in his ass shot up there by a hard cock. He could still feel the cock up there, his ass lips spread open to accommodate it. The man stroked Joey's sides and belly. Then Mr. Parish turned Joey's head and kissed him on the lips. The man's tongue came at him again and Joey let it in. He knew he was supposed to kiss back, but he could not find the energy to act. He just let the man do as he wished, mentally drained. Then the man slapped him on the side of his butt and said, "Wow! You are a hell of a fuck, boy." That broke Joey out of his daze. The man's joy at having fucked him made Joey smile. He had given that pleasure to Mr. Parish. Joey was a 'good fuck'- no, a 'hell of a fuck,' and that made him proud. The man pulled back, and the deflating cock eased out of Joey's ass, giving him one last thrill. He felt empty and wished it could have stayed up inside him. Joey looked over his shoulder at those happy blue eyes as Mr. Parish stood and wiped off his cock with a towel. The cock was half-size now, but still looked hefty as it swung about. Joey felt a stirring of affection and loyalty for the organ that had taken his cherry. Mr. Parish held Joey's ankle gently. "You okay, little Joey?" "Yeah." "Good." The man smiled and flipped Joey over by the ankle. Then he knelt over Joey and lowered his handsome face, kissing the boy. Joey felt his whole body come alive with arousal and wrapped his arms around the man's neck. Mr. Parish was hugging Joey too, stroking his hair, face and sides. Then the man got up, but only for a little bit. He set some pillows against the bed head and lay on them before pulling Joey to him. Joey squeezed in against the man's side and Mr. Parish put an arm around him. The boy's head was against Mr. Parish's shoulder and chest. "I'm glad you came to me, Joey," said the man, stroking Joey's back. Joey put an arm across Mr. Parish's hairy stomach. "Thanks." "Would you like to keep doing this?" It seemed strange to Joey that the man even felt the need to ask. "Yes. I liked it a lot. I mean, some of the time it was scary, but I think now that I've done it, I know it's worth it because the good parts make up for it." "The first bit hurt, huh?" "Near the end too." "What were the good parts?" "When I felt you cumming," said Joey. "I could tell because of the way you got stiff and started breathing hard. It made me feel good to know you were enjoying it. That part was good. And..." "And what?" asked Mr. Parish. "This part is really good too." "You mean right now?" Mr. Parish looked down at him, his blue eyes seeming surprised. "Yeah," said Joey. "I like you holding me like this, knowing that we just— well, you know." "Fucked?" Joey blushed. "I feel really close to you. Even though I hardly know anything about you, I feel like I know everything that's important." "Well, I hardly know anything about you, too," said Mr. Parish, "and I feel very close to you as well." They lay there for a while in silence. Joey felt like he was floating. It was so comforting to have this man's big body to hold on to. Like he had found a country to belong to. He had a vision of himself running a flag up Mr. Parish's tall cock and saluting. He couldn't suppress a giggle. "What?" asked Mr. Parish. "Nothing." "Tell me." "You'll just think I'm weird," said Joey. "Joey," said Mr. Parish, looking at him with those un-defiable eyes. Joey took a deep breath and told him about the flag. Mr. Parish got a loving look on his face and said, "I don't think you're weird, Joey. I think you're wonderful." At ease again, Joey pressed closer to the man's hairy body and smiled to himself. They talked a bit more, about Joey's life and school and his parents and Henry, his best friend. It felt strange to Joey that Mr. Parish was interested in this stuff because Joey's life was so ordinary and boring. Mr. Parish had gone through so much more dramatic stuff. "What's prison like?" Joey asked. "Prison is hard. Being out is harder." "Really? Why?" "Because," said Mr. Parish jokingly, "there are no sexy boys in prison and out here I want to touch each and every one of you in dirty ways and I can't. Well, not before today, anyway." Joey said nothing, sensing that there was more. Mr. Parish got serious again. "What really hurts is that prison destroys who you used to be. In every way. Your mind gets flat in there. You come out and you can't remember how to decide things for yourself anymore. Some afternoons I think to myself it would be nice to go for a walk and then I stand at the porch waiting and after a while I realize I was waiting for someone to give me permission. "And then there's my job. I can't ever go back to surgery. I loved being a doctor. I was really good at it too." "What do you do now?" asked Joey. "I know you have a job." "Construction work. Lots of cement." "Oh." "Hey, at least it keeps me fit, right?" "I guess," said Joey. He took Mr. Parish's free hand in his and squeezed it. They talked more. As the conversation drifted from topic to topic, Joey was impressed by the man's intelligence and life experiences. He also seemed to respect Joey's opinions. In the back of his mind, however, Joey was still stuck on the sexual experience he had just been through. He thought, 'I've just agreed to let this man continue molesting me. What he did to me was legally rape. I've just been raped and I liked it.' Joey was drawn to the Mr. Parish's nipples. First he just rubbed them with the tip of his fingers, but then he was circling them and squeezing them. After a while, he realized that Mr. Parish has stopped talking. He looked up to see an amused expression on the man's face. Mr. Parish asked, "Would you like to lick them?" "Yes." Joey leaned over and touched his tongue to the hard tip of the nearest nipple. He squeezed the muscled chest underneath with one hand and stroked the other nipple with his other. Getting closer, Joey started licking. He dripped spit down onto the tanned skin and swirled his tongue around it. The man's chest hair tickled his nose as he moved his head about. Then Joey went after the next nipple, sliding his body on top of Mr. Parish. He repeated his tonguing and wetting of the hard nub and then took the entire thing in his mouth and sucked. Mr. Parish breathed in deep and pulled Joey's head tighter to his chest. The man directed Joey back to the first nipple and Joey slurped on it. Joey then sunk his nose between the man's chest muscles and inhaled. The smell was strong and dark and made Joey dizzy. He repeated his inhaling, like a drug addict taking a hit. Joey's dick was rock hard now. So was Mr. Parish's: Joey felt it moving about between them. The only thing better than the smell of Mr. Parish's chest was the taste. Joey was licking all over the whole thing now, around the nipples, the collarbone, the valley between the pectorals. It seemed like a giant playground of manliness. Mr. Parish's hands on the boy's head pushed him lower, to his stomach. The hair was just as thick and continued to tickle Joey's nose as he licked and slurped and even mischeivously bit the skin. At the navel, Joey took a long time circling his tongue and licking all about. The man's hard cock was throbbing against his chest now and when Mr. Parish's hands let him, he moved to the man's crotch. Even having just taken a shower, the dark bush at the crotch smelled powerfully. Again, Joey went dizzy. He sniffed about, his nose buried in the hair. Then he nosed down to the balls. Mr. Parish spread his legs, letting Joey get under the hairy testicles to the truly wonderful scent there. He felt like he could stay here forever, breathing in the musk of the man while his hands caressed Joey's hair affectionately. Even with his ears muffled by the man's big thighs, Joey heard footsteps in the hall. He tried to pull away, but Mr. Parish squeezed his thighs tighter and held his head down with his hands. With a loud whisper, Mr. Parish said, "Stay down there or I'm going to fuck you in the kitchen while she watches." Joey stopped struggling. "Keep licking," said the man. As Joey restarted his tongue action, this time on the semi-salty skin of the man's anus, the old lady came to the door, speaking. "You boys forgot your cookies downstairs, so I brought them—" The sight of Joey must have stunned her. "Oh my," she said. "I thought you'd be all done by now. I'm sorry." Mr. Parish said, "Oh we were finished, but Joey wanted more." As he licked, Joey felt humiliated. He could only imagine how lewd he looked to the old lady who knew that he was there willingly, debasing himself. He started crying silently. Mrs. Langstrom said, "Well, young men can be that way. I know that from experience. I'll just leave the cookies and you boys can have them afterwards." There was the sound of a tray being placed on the bedside table and then footsteps out of the room. Joey had to stop tonguing the man as he lost control and sobbed. "What's wrong with you?" asked Mr. Parish, pulling Joey's head out from between his thighs. "Mrs. Langstrom saw me!" "Yes, so?" "So she *saw* me." "Yes," said Mr. Parish. "So?" Tears ran down Joey's face. "Now she knows about me. She's going to think I'm— This was supposed to be secret. Nobody was supposed to find out. How can I talk to her now? She saw me with my face in your ass!" Mr. Parish got a look of sympathy. "Come here, Joey," he said and pulled the boy up against his chest. "Have a cookie." Joey ate the cookie the man put to his mouth. It was chewy, with that extra richness that seemed to come from home made baking. "Joey," explained Mr. Parish calmly, "You're a slut." The cookie suddenly seemed like rubber to Joey. He tried to object, but Mr. Parish cut him off. "No, you are. You showed up at my door with a portfolio of seven men you had selected to fuck you. You are a slut." Mr. Parish stroked Joey's forehead. "Now it may not be the most glorious thing in the world, but it's who you are and you need to accept that. There's nothing wrong with wanting to make men feel good." Joey swallowed and Mr. Parish gave him a bit of milk from a glass. The taste was coming back. "But she'll tell. Everyone is-" Mr. Parish laughed. "No, little Joey, she won't tell. She's an old hippie. She thinks free love is the greatest thing. As long as I'm not forcing you, she's fine with what we do." "Really?" asked Joey. "Really." Mr. Parish gave him another piece of cookie. "Besides. She owes me. She's got a son, a colonel in the army, who's alive because I saved him on the operating table. That's why she set me up with the house next door, too." Joey's tears were dry and he was enjoying his cookie. He said, "Well it's still weird to have her walk in the room when we're doing stuff." "You have to let all that go." Mr. Parish gave Joey a kiss on the lips. "She's going to be our cover story for getting together every Saturday so you might as well get used—" "Will we still go on dates?" "What?" "You know," said Joey. "Like at the movie. I enjoyed that." "That'd be hard, Joey. You know what my situation is." "Yeah," said Joey, disappointed. Mr. Parish smiled and rubbed Joey's chin. "We'll see." Right away Joey smiled but before he could say thanks, Mr Parish continued, "Now why don't you go back to eating out my ass. I know it probably doesn't tast as good as the cookies, but I enjoyed it." "Oh, no," said Joey, dropping down to the man's crotch. "Your butt tasted way better." As Joey dug his way back to Mr. Parish's ass, he heard the man laugh and say, "Just don't tell her that. It might hurt her feelings." The boy kept his tongue poking at the man's wrinkled pucker. He tried to get as much of the tip in as possible but also made sure that he was constantly swabbing the hole with his spit. He enjoyed the taste. Not the actual flavor, but what that taste meant. It felt so submissive to be under this man, touching this dirty place with his tongue. A tickling on his ear distracted Joey. He flicked at it only to touch a wet string of precum that clung to his fingers. Joey lifted up. The shiny liquid was stretched all the way from his fingers to the tip of Mr. Parish's cock. More was leaking down the big shaft, pooling at the base. Fascinated, Joey touched his fingers to his nose and the fluid clung there as he inhaled. There was little real smell, but in Joey's mind it was wonderful. He dipped his thumb down to the bottom of the cock and scooped up a glob. With an embarrassed looked at Mr. Parish, Joey slurped it off. It was slightly chalky, and sticky enough to cling to his lips as he sucked the stuff in. It tingled his tongue and he had to keep licking at his lips to clear all of it. It amazed him that something could be so slimy and sticky at the same time. He licked the precum from his fingers. There was fresh liquid almost pouring out the tip of the cock though. Joey held the big shaft steady in his hand and licked the drips up. When he pulled back, a shiny, looping line of precum was hanging between his mouth and the cock. He slurped at it moving his head closer to the cock until he was sucking on the head itself. "Aaaahhh," sighed Mr. Parish. "Good boy, Joey. Keep it up. Suck my cock like the little slut you are." Joey grimaced a bit at being talked to in such a demeaning way, but he also felt like he deserved it. It made him feel right, as if he was supposed to be here with a big cock in his mouthhole. He redoubled his efforts, sliding down the cock repeatedly at breakneck speed, while trying to keep up his suction. His nose reached halfway to the man's musky pubes with each downstoke, giving a burst of that dank aroma each time. Mr. Parish started to breath heavily, stiffening his legs. These were the signs of orgasm Joey knew by now. He braced himself for a flood of semen, wondering what the taste would be like. Just as it seemed like the man was ready to blow, however, he pulled away and flipped Joey onto his back. With lightning speed, the man folded Joey's knees against his shoulders and plunged the thick cock all the way in. For Joey, whose hole had lost its looseness, the stretching pain was just as intense as the first time. He gasped for breath as the cock sunk into him, leaving a ripped feeling in its wake. He tried to scream, but nothing would come out except panting, shallow breaths. The man didn't seem to notice. Joey was below his hairy, toned chest and the boy's swimming vision saw only a blur of black and light brown above him as the man hammered away at his tender hole. Joey kept his arms out at the side, using the bed to keep himself from toppling under the force of the cock shoving into his ass. Already at the edge, the man took only a few minutes of rough, rapid fucking to cum, ramming extra hard into Joey for the final dozen strokes, before collapsing onto the boy. The full weight and sweaty, smelly dampness of the man came down on Joey. Underneath Mr. Parish, Joey felt vulnerable and small as he was pressed into the mattress. The cock embedded in his ass still hurt and he breathing continued to be rapid, filling his lungs with the smell of sex and exertion. And again Joey felt right at home, like he was in his place. "MMmmmMnnnghhhh," Mr. Parish happily groaned above him, stretching slowly. "Joey, your pussy is the fucking best. Like butter. " The compliment gave Joey a thrill and he smiled in spite of the pain and discomfort. The man didn't ease off him. In fact, the man wrapped his muscular arms around Joey and pulled them closer together, the boy's head turning sideways as his cheek was pressed into Mr. Parish's hairy chest. Joey took the chance to hug his man back, stroking his man's strong back admiringly. His man? Was that right, Joey wondered, as he enjoyed the embrace. Was Mr. Parish his man, now that Joey had given him his virginity? Eventualy, both of them fell asleep in that position. Joey awoke some time later from warm dreams to the feel of Mr. Parish making love to him. Joey felt like he had not truly woken up. The man was kissing Joey's lips and neck while gently sliding his cock into the boy at a leisurely pace. Joey's pussy lips were comfortable with the invader and no longer crying out in terror. Instead, each passage of the cock up his boy chute gave Joey chills of pleasure. Mr. Parish was holding Joey gently in his arms, stroking his hair and hip and leg. The whole thing felt comforting in its rhythm, like a water wheel from an old painting turning steadily in a stream. Joey kissed Mr. Parish back as he regained his senses, enjoying the feel of the man's tongue and the sense of closeness that came from such touching. In a few minutes, the man came almost effortlessly in Joey before relaxing at the boy's side, still holding him. They dozed off again. When Mrs. Langstrom woke them up, Joey felt embarassed at being found naked, lying against Mr. Parish's body. However, the woman just seemed to not care at all that a man had just spent the afternoon fucking a boy in her house. She gathered up the cookie dishes with a smile then ruffled Joey's hair. "I bet you're ready for another go, aren't you?" When she was gone, Joey took note of his situation. He was lying on his side with a warm, hard cock pressed up beneath of his butt. "I think she's right," said Mr. Parish in his gravelly voice, startling Joey. Like a wrestler, the man hoisted Joey up by the shoulders and plunked him facedown on the soft mattress. Mr. Parish dropped onto the boy with all his weight. Joey gasped as much from the prospect of one more fucking as he did from actually losing air. The man's hard penis burrowed along his upper thighs as Mr. Parish got in position above him. "You're like a little slut angel, Joey," Mr. Parish said into his ear with a tone of accusation." Just a fine, fine ass for men to use. And you like having them use it, don't you?" "Mmmhm," Joey mumbled into his pillow. "I said, 'Don't you?!'" "Yes," Joey lifted his head to say. "I like you using my ass. " "Well, I'm going to give you one last good fuck before I send you home full of my cum. That way I'm going to have something to remember this by and I'm going to make sure you don't forget me." With his knees, Mr. Parish spread Joey's thighs and then pressed the tip home. Joey felt like he was losing his virginity for a third time as the big cock rammed into his butthole, which had only just recovered from it's earlier abuse. "Aaah. Aaaaahrgh," Joey yelled, his head snapping up in pain only to be pushed back down by Mr. Parish's strong chest as the man pushed forward. Mr. Parish didn't pause, as he shoved his hefty meat right to the hilt in one fast action and then prompty attacked with one deep thrust after another. To Joey, it felt like he was trying to make his cock come out the other end. Joey's breathing again went erratic as the feeling of each penetration caused his muscles to spasm and his body could not control itself. His nose, buried in the sheets were full of the smell of cotton mixed with sweat and the undefinable smell of Mr. Parish all around him. The man wrapped his arms around him, making Joey's breathing even more difficult. Joey's splayed legs spasmed until they ran out of energy. The boy grew more and more limp as the man used his little ass. All Joey had now was the feel of being fucked. The rubbing motion of the large hairy body, the hot air from the panting against his head and neck and ears, the sliding of his forehead and knees against the G.I Joe sheets as the man's thighs pushed him foreward with each strong thrust. The grumbling of Mr. Parish's chest as the man grunted his desire contrasting with the clean 'thok, thok thok,' as the headboard of the old bed hit the wall in a steady beat. And of course, there was the feeling of being split open again and again, with excruciating pleasure, as the man rammed his cock into Joey's aching chute repeatedly. This was Joey's place. Letting himself be taken. He soaked it in, gritting his teeth. Then there were a final dozen extra hard, extra loud thrusts and Mr. Parish was moaning in his ear, "Yes, Joey...Yesssss...Gooood, yes!" as he came inside Joey for the fourth time that day. As he calmed down, Mr. Parish's rhythm slowed and then he came to rest atop Joey, his weight greater than ever. Joey endured it, prepared to stay until the man was truly done with him. After a few minutes, when Joey doubted his resolve, Mr.Parish rose up. "Well, that was an afternoon well, spent, don't you agree, young Joey?" Joey was too busy mustering his limp muscles to reply. Standing at the side of the bed, Mr. Parish laughed at Joey's apparently shellshocked expression. "Don't worry. You're not damaged or anything." Then the man took Joey's hand and pulled him to his feet. With unsteady steps, Joey let himself be lead into the hallway. The smell of baking wafted upstairs. The naked man and boy walked into the bathroom and Mr. Parish helped Joey into the tub. Mr. Parish washed Joey under the shower. He even gave Joey a quick two-finger spank right on the butthole which popped the boy out of his daze. "That'll help tighten it up," said Mr. Parish. "I like knowing my cum is staying in you." Then it was Joey's turn to wash Mr. Parish. Again, the man made Joey work at it and the boy had to tiptoe to shampoo the man's hair. It was a strange sensation for Joey compared to their first bath. Now he was washing the body of the man who had taken ownership of him it seemed. Whereas he had touched it with wonder before, now he touched it with reverence. When he kneeled to wash Mr. Parish's legs, the cock that had taken his viginity hung, half-hard, before him. Joey knew it was odd, but he felt great affection for that instrument of sexual power. He tentatively leaned in, pulled back, then decided to go for it and placed a peck on the top of the large head. He looked up at Mr. Parish, embarrased, but the man's expression said that he understood: that bonding with a cock wasn't strange for a boy like Joey. The man ran a kind hand through Joey' hair and then pulled him up. "It's okay, Joey," said Mr. Parish. "When you're with me, you can be the real you. Don't feel bad for what you are." ...... That night, As Joey ate dinner with his mother, father and older sister, Megan, all he could think about was the four loads of sperm soaking in his ass. At one point, his sister looked up from texting her latest boyfriend to comment, "Jesus, Joey, what's with the stupid grin?" and Joey realized how happy he was that he had given up his ass to Mr. Parish. Chapter 2 Tuesday afternoon, Joey was back at Mrs Langstrom's flower beds. All he could think about was the strong, naked body of Mr. Parish, but the man was nowhere about. That night, Henry slept over and they had a chance to talk for the first time since Mr. Parish had fucked Joey. "It's just so frustrating," said Joey. "I mean, it looks like he really intends to make me do yard work two days a week to maintain this cover story." "Well, it's worth it, isn't it?" Henry asked. "Hell, yeah." Joey couldn't help but break into giggles. "But still, I thought that having sex would kinda make me stop being so horny all the time. Instead, it's like I want it more than ever now. I can't stop thinking about-" "You think he'd want to do it with me?" Henry asked softly. Joey fought down his jealousy and said, "Probably. But I thought you weren't interested in this." "I'm not. But it's still got me wondering, you know?" Just then Megan interrupted them. "Joey, you little shit, I told you and your faggot boyfriend to clean up the living room. Matthew's coming over and the whole thing is covered in flowers and leaves." Megan was sixteen and moderately hot. Matthew was a junior at Hiscock State College. Joey's parents had some reservations about the age difference, but Matthew was not the typical wild fratboy type. Indeed, he was an art history major who always dressed in black and complained about 'the oppression of societal privilege'. Joey could tell that Matthew was putting on an act at some level, but he had to admit, Matthew was still super hot, with his slim, wound-up body and intense eyes under his falling dark hair. Also, Joey and Henry often discussed how Matthew's black jeans always seemed stretched to bursting by the package in the crotch. The two boys picked up the trash. Joey often helped Henry with his flower-arranging hobby and and three elegant bouquets lined the living room coffee table. Just as they were done cleaning, Matthew arrived. Upon seeing the flowers, he growled, 'Such a futile art. Everything dies and decays and beauty just disappears from this world." Henry looked offended. But Joey was watching Matthew's bulging crotch and licking his dry lips. 'I need to have sex soooo bad, right now,' he thought. Instead, Matthew roped the boys and Megan into watching a documentary on assassination conspiraces. The boys sat on the floor while the couple covered under a blanket on the couch. About halfway through the movie, they heard Matthew's breathing go ragged as he came from a hand job. ...... There was no sex for Joey, however. Thursday was more gardening. It wasn't bad spending time with Mrs. Langstrom. She tended to say little and most of that was kindly and generous. Plus the cookies never stopped coming. On Saturday, instead of inviting him in, Mrs Langstrom simply handed him a denim jacket and a note. It read, "If things are safe, then come to the movies and wear the jacket. Buy tickets for the movie in theater 9. Stand at the northern staircase for 7 minutes and come in. Sit in the back left." As he stood in the lobby, the overlarge jacket on him, Joey counted the seconds on his watch and wondered at the paranoia that living as a sex offender created. Then Joey himself caught the paranoia. Suppose people could see who Joey was? *What* he was? The man buying nachos by the concession bar seemed to be over-interested in Joey, for instance. He was about average height, but wide shouldered. His arms were muscular without being bulky, their full length exposed in his camoflage vest. The man's bright blond hair fell wildly at his back, and under his severely curved cowboy hat his eyes seemed odd and menacing. Joey's watch ticked over the time to go into the movie and he shook off the idea that people could tell he was a slut. The left rear corner was empty. Joey sat there and waited. A few more people entered the darkened theater as the previews began and one shadow resolved into Mr. Parish, who sat and lifted the armrest between them. "Hello, little Joey." The man's tone was filled with insinuations. Or was that Joey's overactive imagination? This man had fucked him! Had stuck a giant cock up his tight boy butt and filled him with hot, white cum. And the way that Mr Parish spoke seemed to say, 'Yes, boy, you are mine, as it should be.' "Hi, Mr Parish." "Our movie today is 'Kamal's Day of Wonder,' about a young Afghan gay couple in the days of the Taliban. Very touching." The man took Joey's hand into his. "Are you disappointed we're on a date instead of in Mrs Langstrom's house?" "Yeah, a little. But this is good too. I just like being near you. It's like I'm...well...nevermind." "You are not to keep secrets from me Joey, remember? I've already violated your sexy little body thoroughly, so you've got nothing to hide from me in any case." "I feel like this is the kind of role I belong in, being next to you." "And I enjoy being near you too." With that, the man's strong hands moved to Joey's legs, running along them. The movie was fantastic for about an hour, with stark desert scenery and handsome boys. The language made them seem exotic. Mr. Parish continued to show off by giving Joey little insider jokes that the translators missed as the two of them snuggled, Mr Parish's body blocking Joey from view as the man stroked Joey's hair and neck. Then Mr Parish seemed to just lose focus and started kissing Joey's head, face and lips. Eventually they were in a full-on makeout session. Joey was alarmed. How could Mr Parish seem so obsessed with secrecy and then pull a move like this? There were people all around. Was that the silhouette of a cowboy hat at the other end of the empty back row? Joey's body was responding to the kissing, and now fondling. His cock was hard and his breathing ragged. Then Mr Parish pulled back and looked Joey over. Catching his breath, Joey said, "Wha-? I- What is it?" "You know, young Joey, it occurs to me that there is one way I have not violated you as yet." Joey sat silently as he imagined horrible possibilities. The man said, "I have yet to come down your snug little throat." Joey ran last Saturday through his memory and realized with a sense of regret that he had not yet even tasted Mr Parish's cum. Then the man's strong fingers were entwined in his hair, pulling him down towards his crotch. Mr Parish was going to make him give a blow job right there in the theater! Could the man with the cowboy hat see? The sweaty smell of cock mixed with the dusty work jeans and the popcorn scent of the theater to create a magical rush that knocked Joey's paranoia right out. It got even better once Mr Parish unzipped and almost instantaneously slipped the head of his hard cock into Joey's mouth. "Mmmmhhhmm." Joey was groaning from the musky scent of pubes as well as the knowledge of being used by a man. Despite the awkward angle, he diligently explored Mr Parish's cock. The Saturday before, all the times he'd had Mr Parish in his mouth, there had been no chance to really experience it. Now, he tested the veined surface with his lips. Joey pivoted his head to sample the flared edge of the big head. He tasted the oozing tip with his flicking tongue. In his overloaded mind, it was hard to separate the slick, salty taste of Mr Parish from the dark smell of the crotch and the gentle bumpiness of the two veins down the left side, he soon found himself short of breath and struggling to stay focused. Mr Parish's hand lifted him off and then the man said, "Get on the floor. Kneel." But that would expose them to view more, wouldn't it? Mr Parish said, "Don't hesitate when I tell you to do something, Joey." With wordless shame, Joey slipped down to the hard floor and bent his head forward, taking the wide cockhead back between his lips. He had a straighter path down the shaft now and sped up, trying to get a quick slurping rhythm going. "Easy, little Joey, easy." Mr Parish restrained his eager head. "Work the top. That's the best way for beginners." It hurt to be called a beginner. To think that he was not skilled at what he was fast coming to see as his purpose in life: pleasing men. Or at least pleasing their cocks. But he obeyed his man, sticking to working his lips on the round knob. The tingly taste of the precum on coated his tongue as he licked hard at the underside of the big cock. He alternated licking with slurping and straighforward sucking when his tongue would tire. "Ease up, Joey," said Mr Parish. "Try to put some thought into it." Alarmed at his failure, Joey almost shut down in panic, but then he held fast to Mr Parish's advice and slowed the pace. He made his licks of the underside slower and stiffer and was immediately rewarded with a groan of happiness from his man. The more deliberate action was better for Joey too. He could at last appreciate the smoothness, curvature, and stiffness of the peehole area. He wormed tongue against it, creating a few more groans and grunts. He turned left in a panic to see if anyone was noticing, but Mr Parish grabbed his hair and pulled him back. "Do you job, little Joey. That's all that should matter to you." Of course it was the only thing that should matter, Joey reprimanded himself. He continued laving his tongue against the lower head. Then he swiped up the sides and tried his best to twirl around it. "Don't forget to suck it too." Joey obeyed, trying his best to be gentle while still giving a deep pull with his mouth. As he experimented with this, he accidentally found his lips squeezing just under the flared cock head and "Oh, wow," grumbled out of Mr Parish, sounding like thunder to Joey. Surely everyone in the theater had heard that? Mr Parish tightened his grip on the back of Joey's head and the boy understood automatically that he was to keep up his lip massage. It took mental effort and endurance to keep it up and he often found himself having to start all over. Mr Parish did not seem to mind, his grip only becoming firmer and his cock head seeming to swell even more. Then Mr Parish held Joey's head in place and his cock and the rest of his body tensed up. Joey knew it was going to blow and his urge to please paralyzed him as he tried to suck, massage and lick all at once. It didn't seem to matter. Spurts of warm, thick semen spilled into his mouth, coating his teeth and tongue almost instantly. As it threatened to leak down his throat, Joey struggled to control his breathing. The jerking cock took forever to finish spilling its load and every second was amazing for Joey as he swallowed it carefully. He was a little repulsed at the strong flavor and the brisk scent which permeated his nostrils from inside, but the idea that he was taking inside something for a man, despite how bad it might taste, made the bad taste seem like the most wonderful in the world to the boy, even as he fought not to reflexively spit the thick cream back up. He nursed on the cock as it softened, Mr Parish stroking his neck like a puppy. Joey leaned down, resting his ear against the inside of Mr Parish's thigh as he continued gently sucking. They stayed like that for at least five minutes, Joey cleaning up the shaft and pee slit with his tongue. Then Mr Parish pulled him back to his seat and they continued to hold each other as they watched the movie, which Joey seemed to have missed little of. Had his blowjob really been that fast? It seemed unlikely given how mind-altering the whole event had been for Joey. He had learned to be a better cock sucker. He had excited a man so much as to spill cum into his mouth. That cum was now in his stomach, and would follow him around for the rest of his life, like one of those tags on baby seals. The movie wrapped up and Mr Parish gave Joey a quick kiss on the lips just before the lights came on. The man in the cowboy hat *had* been in the movie and exited just before them. He seemed to grin momentarily at Joey when their eyes met. ..... "Do you have a grandfather, young Joey?" It was next Saturday and Joey was lying against Mr Parish's chest, freshly fucked. Twice-fucked in fact, so happy had Mr Parish been to see him. The room was bright as usual and the smell of the man's underarms and skin combined with the fresh scent of the bedsheets was giving Joey tingles all over. "I have two." It occurred to Joey that Mrs Langstrom had changed the sheets since the last time. She must have seen the tumbled bed and the wet spots everywhere. How embarrassing. Mr Parish said, "Are you close?" "Not really." Joey said. "Grandpa George lives far away and he only sends me presents and things. Grandpa Phil doesn't get along with mom at all, so I never see him." "Would you like a real grandfather then?" "Um, I don't know. It might be nice. Dad's not always around to hang out with and he's kinda tough on me sometimes about chores and grades and things. Having a grandpa to spoil me and goof around with might be cool." Mr Parish ran a hand along Joey's thigh, curving over his butt cheek and making Joey shiver more. The man seemed lost in thought. Joey enjoyed the magnanimity of his touch for a few minutes. Then the man gave a little spank to Joey's bottom and got off the bed, walking around a bean bag chair and a side table to a desk by one of the large windows. "Come here," Mr Parish said. Joey saw a folder on the desk when he got there. His folder. He opened his mouth to speak, but Mr Parish held up a finger. "Nico Savelli," said Mr Parish, pulling a page out of the folder. "Age 68. Height: five feet, eleven inches. Stocky build. He's been out of jail for eight years now." He handed the familiar page to Joey. The picture showed a man with wavy silver hair, parted on one side. He had warm brown eyes and a smile of half-hidden roguishness. Nico Savelli's nose was just a bit bulbous, but the overall effect was of a handsome, dignified man. Mr Parish sat in the bean bag, and invited Joey to sit onto his naked lap. Joey obeyed, still looking at the page before him. The boy settled into the firm, hairy warmth of the man. Mr Parish's stiff cock pressed against his lower back. Before them, the colors of the small park next door created a fuzzy picture of peace through the thin blinds, with the dark pond, green trees and the grass and walking trail. You could even tell where the people were. "Mr Savelli was convicted of molesting his nephew," said Mr Parish. "He served a five years on a seven-year sentence. In his life, he's probably had sex with dozens of boys, though there have been none since his release." "Wait, there's nothing here about a nephew. Or other boys. It just says, 'victim was thirteen at the time of offense.'" "Well, I spoke to him, you see. His address is an old folks home and he was glad for the company. We had a long talk. He especially liked hearing about you." Joey's gut went tight. How could Mr Parish tell a stranger about him? "What? Why? I don't even know him. How could-" "Stop being a petulant bitch, Joey." Mr Parish's words struck Joey dumb with shock. The man continued, "*You* are the one who printed this man's file and put him in a list of people you wanted to fuck. You know him a lot. You probably put some thought into making him one of your lucky seven, didn't you? "Yeah, but I have you now. I don't want the others anymore." "You don't stop wanting something just because you found something else that works for a while." Mr Parish hugged Joey closer with one hand and stroked his neck with the other. "There's something about this man you really like, isn't there, little Joey?" "Yes." "And I suspect its the wholesome grandfather-like air he has. You want that in your life, don't you?" "I- I- yes." "Good, because your new Grandpa Nico is looking forward to meeting you on Monday." "Monday!? But- I mean, how?" But Mr Parish didn't answer. Instead the man lifted Joey's buttocks and positioned his cock under the boy's asshole. Joey's feet came down onto the beanbag, his knees high. "Take a breath, little Joey." Joey tensed and he breathed in, the top of the cock pressing firmly against his entrance, but not getting in. Just as he breathed out a bit, Mr Parish yanked him down. There was little pain this time with the squatting position and the fast entrance. He was pulled straight down and then Mr Parish hugged him, reclining in the bean bag so that Joey's butt was spread wide and exposed with the thick cock embedded in it. Joey felt like he could feel the motion of Mr Parish's breathing all around and inside him. Instead of fucking him, the man just took deep breaths, letting that natural rise and fall create just a bit of in and out motion between the boy and the man. "Grandpa Nico's been in Willow Park Care Home for a long time," said Mr Parish. "They lost his documents years ago and the staff turnover is so high that no one knows he's a sex offender anymore. Sure, they could see it if they looked online, but why would they? And his parole officer stopped checking on him too, because there's so many other guys to worry about and what kid is old Nico going to molest in a nursing home at his age, right?" 'Me,' thought Joey, adjusting himself around the thick cock filling him. 'He's going to molest me.' It felt surreal to know where and when he was going to be violated in two days, even though he'd never been there and never met the man who was going to molest him. "But my parents won't-" "Mrs Langstrom's going to call them today. Tell them what a wonderful job you're doing with her garden and that she's terribly sorry, but she went ahead and promised her lonely old friend Mr Savelli that she'd bring you around to visit with her on Monday and could they let you go-" "Mrs Langstrom's going to take me?!" "No, you'll ride over yourself. And once you and Mr Savelli get to know each other, you'll tell your parents that you'll be visiting him every Monday because he's a great guy with good stories about-." "I'll have to go back?" "Don't interrupt, Joey." Joey bit his lip. This was so scary. Mr Parish was setting him up with a stranger and he wasn't being given any choice. Mr. Parish said, "You'll love your new Grandpa Nico and visit him every week. It'll be fun. I'm sure the old guy will be happy to throw in some genuine grandpa stuff to keep the image going. Maybe take you out for walks and trips to the candy store. Who knows?" It would be good to finally have a grandfather he could bond with Joey thought. Mr. Parish had turned out to be much more than just a guy who fucked him, after all. Mr. Parish was completely rearranging his life and helping him learn things he'd never imagined. "Um, okay," said Joey. "Excellent," said Mr. Parish. "Make sure you wear shorts. He's a great admirer of boys' legs." Then Mr. Parish grabbed him under his arms and pushed him forward to the window. Joey grabbed the sill as the man stood behind him and started ramming his large, stiff cock into the boy's protesting ass. "Mr. Parish!" Joey said, as he brought the two halves of the thin curtains together under him. "People will see us." "They'll see you maybe. But with the blinds, all they will see is you and your eyes looking weird from getting fucked." Joey pushed back against the wall as the man starting hammering him. Outside, the world took no notice as Joey made himself a willing fucktoy for Mr. Parish. A few people walked by in the park and no one even looked up except Mr. Crandall's dog. The pounding in Joey's ass sped up until a panting Mr. Parish stiffened and spasmed up into him. The smell of cookies wafted up from below. ...... That Monday, as he biked onto the grounds of the Willow Park home, Joey thought about the sex at the window. 'How could he just brace me up against the glass like that?' Sure, no one could really tell what was happening if they saw, but it was still a risk. And the same with the theater blow job. And this was the same Mr. Parish that had been so paranoid when he first met Joey. The home was clearly for wealthy people. The lawns were flat and even, with fresh, green grass. It was late Spring and the flowers were sprouting along the paths. The building had modern glass doors that fitted well with the old brick-style construction. The floors were dark and shiny. Probably marble, Joey thought. The guard didn't even look up when Joey said he wanted to see Nico Savelli. He just said, "Visitors' lounge is down the hall." Nico Savelli was not in the main hall. Rather he was outside, in a shaded courtyard, where four gray-haired men in folding chairs were smoking cigars at a card table. "Little Joey!" Nico Savelli shouted. "C'mere and give your grandpa a hug." Joey approached the man stiffly, trying to figure out his face. Nico Savelli was smiling and seemed genuinely happy to see Joey. 'Well, of course he's happy,' Joey thought. 'He thinks he's going to have sex with me- He *is* going to have sex with me.' Again the certainty that this man would be inside his butt was surreal as Joey offered a handshake. "Uh, hi, grandpa. I'm glad to mee-" The old man just used the hand to pull Joey into a big hug. "Oh, my boy. You're more handsome every time I see you!" Then he spun Joey towards the others and said, "Isn't he just the most handsome boy in the world?" His card partners agreed enthusiastically. The the man shocked Joey by easily lifting the boy onto his lap. Grandpa Nico was wearing shorts too. Beneath Joey's bare thighs the man's hairy legs tickled. "You know how to play poker?" Grandpa Nico asked. "Uh, no." "Well I'll teach you." And he did. The game was draw poker and Joey had it figured out before long. The men at the table seemed like old friends joking around and even included Joey in their conversation from time to time. Grandpa Nico's hands were busy too, slipping under Joey's T-shirt from time to time to stroke his belly or squeezing his thighs. Under his butt, Joey could feel Grandpa Nico's cock swelling. It seemed pretty hefty. Again Joey marveled at the idea that he was here by appointment for that cock to go into his ass. "Why don't you go get me a drink, little Joey?" Grandpa asked. "Uh, sure thing, Grandpa." Joey stepped inside to the refreshment counter. It felt almost like he had a real grandfather in grandpa Nico, as much as he could tell from twenty minutes of sitting on his lap. It was cool to have someone teach him a man's game like poker. And fetching a drink for grandpa Nico felt right too, like he was lucky that he had a chance to make his grandpa happy. The bartender didn't seem to have any problems giving him a gin and tonic to take back to his grandfather. Back at the table, grandpa Nico took another twenty minutes to savor his drink while he won three hands. As he relaxed and Joey enjoyed the feeling of grandpa Nico around him. The man's flesh was not as hard as Mr. Parish's, but the softness of the stomach behind him, gave Joey the right sort of comforting feel. And grandpa Nico smelled good too, like dry leaves and baby powder. "Well, gentlemen," said grandpa Nico eventually, "I've got some cookies up in my room for little Joey, so he and I are leaving. Cash me out." There was some friendly grumbling from the table as grandpa Nico traded in all but one of his chips for cash. The last chip he flicked at Joey. "That's for you, grandson. For bringing me luck." Joey looked at the blue chip in his hand, his heart swelling. He was overcome with the idea that he had brought luck to his grandpa. Thinking of Nico Savelli as his grandfather wasn't requiring any effort at this point and this cemented the idea in Joey's mind. Grandpa Nico's room was actually a suite, with a kitchen and living room. Joey was still holding the poker chip as he looked at the horse paintings on the walls. Behind him, grandpa Nico locked the door. "Alright, kid, drop your shorts and bend over the front of the sofa." "Wait, what about the cookies?" "What cookies? I ain't got cookies. I brought you here to fuck you. Now get on the sofa so I can fuck you. I'll go get the lube from the bathroom." Stunned by the man's crudeness, Joey acted in automatic mode, so attuned to the idea that this really was his grandpa that he obeyed. How could the man just be so blunt though? As Joey was pulling one foot out of the shorts grandpa Nico came back and said, "never mind that. Leave 'em at your ankles. The orderlies all have room keys, so we might have to get dressed in a hurry." Joey must have looked unsure, because the man looked up from opening his baby oil and said, 'Look, just kneel on the rug and rest your head on the seat. This isn't complicated, kid. I thought you've done this before." Once he had his naked ass in the air, Joey looked back. Grandpa Nico dropped his trousers. Jutting out from under his shirt, amidst a bush of white hair, was a plump brown cock, hard and ready for action. Joey asked, "Do you, um, well, would you like me to suck it a bit first?" "Some other time, little Joey. Right now I just want to feel the inside of that tight ass." The man breathed out softly as he knelt between Joey's legs. "Man, that is a nice lookin' ass. So smooth." Joey gasped as the man took a meaty handful of his butt and kneaded it. The boy faced forward, the back of the red couch the only thing he could see as he waited. Grandpa Nico pressed a hand down on the center of Joey's shoulders, putting pressure on the boy's neck as his chin dented the cushion. Another hand caressed Joey's ass taking little pinches. "Such a sweet ass," said grandpa Nico. Then Joey got a slick finger at his butthole. It was very businesslike, slipping in steadily and giving him a dozen twirling strokes. These made Joey gasp and spasm, but with grandpa Nico holding him down, all he could move was his butt, which he shifted about reflexively. "That's it boy. Wriggle that ass for me. Show me you want this fat cock." A second finger followed, with the same drilling motion, opening him up and Joey's body reacted again. "Yes, little Joey, you are such a whore for men, aren't you? You can't wait." As he stared ahead at the details of the couch's fabric, breathing in the dusty smell of it, Joey wondered how true that was. He did want this. His cock was hard and as much as he regretted losing the friendly grandpa from the card table, he was looking forward to the man's fat cock up his ass. The preliminaries were soon over when a third finger had helped open Joey up. The blunt head of grandpa Nico's cock was soon pressing against Joey's hole. The oil worked and the head popped in. "Ooouhgh," grunted Joey from the sharp pain. Grandpa Nico just kept going, sliding the well-oil prick right up Joey's chute in one motion. "Ouuuhhhuugggggh." Joey gritted his teeth as the pain flared then ebbed into a throbbing sensation of being full. From his time with Mr. Parish, he was used to being fucked, but the cock still felt like an intruder imposing itself on Joey. Immediately, Nico started ramming him. All the thoughts Joey had arrived with at Willow Park evaporated. He forgot all about the warm grandfatherly fucking he'd hoped for. He forgot about poker and the sense of belonging. He was now on his knees taking a cock up his ass and the man and boy were stripped down to their essential relationship: fucker and fuckee. Joey was the slut. The whore. The servant to men's lust. Joey took his new grandfather's cock willingly, pleased to be giving the man use of it. Each thrust into his ass, made him "Ouugh" happily. The man didn't seem to want anything fancy. He held Joey's hips and just drove his cock in again and again, gaining speed as he became more excited. Eventually the hard cock was coming halfway out of Joey's ass and sliding right back in and poking him in the guts at a frantic rate and Joey felt the man's thrusting get stiff and jerky. "Ooohh yeaah!" whispered Grandpa Nico at no one in particular. "Oh yeaah. Ooooh yeeah. Take it, boy. Take it." The old man came with a series of big, ramming thrusts into Joey. The boy braced himself against the back of the couch, his knees sore from rugburn. He had a brief feeling of triumph as he felt Grandpa Nico yelling in orgasm and then the man rested his weight on top of him. As he knelt there, covered by the old man's panting body, Joey marveled at the idea that he'd just taken another man's semen up inside him. He could picture it deep in his guts, all slimy and white. 'I'm a slut now,' Joey thought. He hadn't stopped at just one man. And he wasn't going to stop at just two either, he knew. He was in a new world now, a world where Joey's life was about pleasing men. Grandpa Nico pulled himself up and out of Joey, the boy feeling a pang of regret as the still-hefty cock popped out. He looked up at the jangle of Grandpa Nico's belt buckle to see the man pulling on his trousers. Joey stood and followed suit, his ass still slick and loose. "Um, are we done?" Joey asked. "You felt me cum up your little ass didn't you?" Joey was stunned at the idea that he was being dismissed, like a waiter who had brought the food and wasn't needed anymore. He said, "But- I mean, the poker game is still going on and-" "Nah, I'm just going to soak in the sauna for a bit and relax. Playtime's over." "I could join you." Grandpa Nico shook his head. "Not today, little Joey. Maybe next time. Don't worry kid, you'll get more of Grandpa Nico's cock next week. But you did your job and my knob's been polished, so it's time for you to get going." That night, at dinner, Megan and her boyfriend were over for dinner. Matthew heard about Joey's trip with Mrs. Langstrom to visit her friend at Willow Park and was predictably dour. "Old folks shouldn't be warehoused like that in institutions," Matthew said. "They should be allowed to end their lives with dignity. Euthanasia should be allowed. Probably even mandatory for some of them. It would have to be better than that life." "But they have a great life," Joey said. "I mean, they hang out and have fun. They play poker and have a sauna and-" "Joey," said his father, "I do hope you won't be overdoing it on these visits of yours. I'm sure these folks have a lot of life in them but they may be too frail to keep up with you." Joey couldn't imagine frail ever being used to describe Grandpa Nico and the way the man had powerfully fucked him on that couch. He was sure that the old man was going to be giving him many more vigorous Monday afternoon workouts. Henry arrived soon after, since Megan and Matthew were taking them along on a double date. It was his parents' idea since they felt that the boys would essentially function as chaperones. Henry asked for tickets to a weepy romantic comedy, starring his dream guy actor. It was just the thing Matthew abhorred as 'mindless entertainment for the masses.' He shook his head at the boys and said, "Your sister is right. You two really are a couple of faggots." While Henry and Joey watched their comedy, Henry swooning over the manly lead and how sweet he was, Megan and Matthew sat four rows away, making out loudly enough that they could still be heard. ...... It was a confusing week for Joey, thinking about how he'd been used by Grandpa Nico. He had another movie date with Mr. Parish that week, but they spent the whole time talking about the movie, with a quick blowjob thrown in. Joey thought he saw the same man with the cowboy hat from before as they were leaving, but he couldn't be sure. On Saturday, after a wild fuck, Mr. Parish took Joey downstairs into Mrs. Langstrom's den to watch tennis. The Barcelona Open was on and that pleased Joey to no end, since he was a tennis fanatic. He cuddled up to Mr. Parish on the couch as they watched. "Something bothering you?" Mr. Parish asked. "No, why do you ask?" "Because you seem kind of distracted. And you were distracted on Tuesday too. Did something happen at the retirement home?" With a sigh, Joey said, "Yeah. But it's not important." "Tell me. I'm curious to hear about how that all went anyway." "Well, it was a lot of fun at first," said Joey who explained about Nico treating him like a real grandson while they were at the poker table. "But then he took me to his room and it was like all he cared about was getting his cock in my ass. He wasn't mean or anything, but he got right down to fucking and after it was done, it was like I didn't matter to him." "But you enjoyed the sex?" "Yeah," Joey admitted. "The thing is though, I don't understand...was he only pretending all the time or did he really like me as his grandson and just get carried away when we got to sex?" "Does it matter in the end?" Mr Parish asked. "Yeah, it does. I want him to like me." "Listen to me, Joey." The man's eyes burned blue as Joey looked up. 'You're a slut. The fact that you're a boy slut is secondary to the reality that you are a slut. It doesn't matter if the men who use you like you. All that matters is that you satisfy their cocks." A twinge of guilt ran through the boy at losing his place. Of course the most important thing was if Grandpa Nico had a good time. It was kind of selfish to think that the old guy had to like him into the bargain. Mr. Parish was still looking at him. "You get what I'm telling you?" the man asked. "Yes, sir." "Good." Then the man relaxed and smiled a bit. "Now that you mention it though, I like you quite a bit, so there's that." "You do?!" Joey almost jumped onto the man's lap in his excitement. "Yeah." Mr. Parish put a friendly hand around Joey's waist. "You're a smart kid, polite, and you seem to understand a lot about life and who you are. You're creative, hardworking...there's a lot to like there." Joey felt like his chest would burst from the praise. "Wow, I don't know what to say." "Good. Because I'd much rather you use your mouth for more entertaining things. Why don't you kneel on the carpet and blow me for the rest of the match?" "But I'll miss-" "Joey?" admonished Mr. Parish with a raised eyebrow. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." But as he unbuttoned Mr. Parish, his knees on the floor, Joey froze as another realization hit him. Mrs. Langstrom was still in the kitchen. She had brought cookies in earlier and even spoken a bit with Joey about how well her garden looked. Having her walk in on them in the upstairs bedroom was one thing, but to give a blowjob right out in the open like it was just the most normal thing in the world? "What is it now?" Mr. Parish sounded frustrated. "Mrs. Langstr-" "Joey?" Mr. Parish rebuked him again. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." And just like that, Joey found himself going down on the thick hard cock of a man four times his age in the middle of an old lady's house while Saturday afternoon passed them by outside. The boy soon found himself in a rhythm, enjoying the feel of the big cock in his mouth as he slobbered and sucked, the grunting sounds of the tennis coming from the TV behind him. He had assumed that the man would enjoy his game as Joey serviced him, but the man spoke: "How did it make you feel, Joey?" Joey's first reaction was, 'I can't talk! I'm busy sucking your cock.' But the man lifted Joey's head off the cock head. "How did what feel?" "When your new grandpa stopped treating you like a boy and started treating you like a cunt?" "I..." "Betrayed?" "A little, yeah. Maybe." The man pushed Joey's head back onto his cock, but the strange conversation was only just starting. After guiding Joey's lips up and down a while, Mr. Parish said, "When he had you at that table with his friends, you forgot you were a cunt, didn't you?" The man did not let Joey answer right away. Instead, he kept Joey working his cock. 'He's giving me time to think,' Joey realized. 'He wants me to feel all that stuff all over again while he enjoys it.' When the man let him up and looked down at him expectantly, Joey said, "Yes. I forgot. I was actually kind of surprised when he said he was taking me to his room, and I actually had to think for a while to remember that I had gone there to give him sex." Mr. Parish pressed Joey back into his crotch, the cock spiking into his throat. Again, Mr. Parish let him suck on his cock for a while before asking the next question. "How does it make you feel, little Joey, to know that men think of you as a place to shoot their load? A sperm receptacle?" Joey considered the idea as he kept sucking, then answered when Mr. Parish let him. "Well, it kinda hurts, like knowing I'm not as good as them, but then it also feels good because I know that they need boys like me to be sluts for them and I have a purpose." Mr. Parish grunted, like he approved the answer, but put Joey back to work sucking. Finally, the man asked, "When you realized he was done with you, that you meant no more to him than a cum rag, did it hit you all at once, or did it take you a while to sink in?" Joey almost stopped sucking at the comparison. Was that really all he was to men? This was what Mr. Parish wanted of course, Joey realized, for Joey to dwell on his position, on how he was a sexual servant. The man's cock was harder than ever. He was getting off on Joey's humiliation. Mr. Parish allowed Joey a chance to speak and the boy said, "It was gradual. His body language was kind of distant as soon as he was done. And his tone of voice was more like...I could tell something was wrong and- I tried to get him interested in me again, and it wasn't working and I was almost panicking because I was hoping he'd go back to being the nice Grandpa Nico after he fucked me and instead he seemed more like he didn't care." Joey went back to blowing Mr. Parish as the man considered his next question. "So you were humiliated. How did that humiliation affect you?" Joey reached back in his mind to that afternoon, when Nico fucked him and left him kneeling there unfulfilled. "I felt small. Like he was some kind of lord over me and I had no rights-" "And how did you react to that?" "I...I was kind of excited. Like being small was who I was supposed to be." "You were accepting your place as a slut, little Joey." "Um, maybe." "Yes." Mr. Parish grabbed Joey's head and made a deep thrust in. The man had reached his orgasm and he clearly wanted Joey to take it all. The boy obliged. "Yes, Joey, you're a slut. My slut. My sweet little slut." And as he grunted and groaned, the man shot his heavy juice into Joey's mouth. The boy struggled hard to swallow as he kept sucking, taking time to appreciate the sharp taste as it slid down his tongue and past his throat. After a dozen spurts, the cock went quiet, but Joey kept suckling, and Mr. Parish indulged him, letting the boy stay that way, on his knees with his face in the man's crotch as Mr. Parish finished watching the game. Joey got fucked again twice that afternoon, upstairs. Then, before he left, Mr. Parish showed him another file. "Your next client." Joey protested, "But Grandpa Nico said-" "You'll still be going there. On Monday. Don't worry. But on Tuesday, keep your calendar free." Chapter 3 Joey was supposed to meet a man named William Lopez at the county airstrip. In the distance, Joey could see the control tower as he rode up the narrow road on his bike. No cars passed by. Lopez was thirty years old and had been convicted of possessing kiddie porn four years earlier when he had been a youth preacher. He had gotten out on parole and found a job easily with the demand for air traffic controllers. The man had never actually had sex with a boy. Joey would be his first. Joey had never been anyone's first, so there was a little tingle in his butt at the idea. Or maybe it was just lingering discomfort over the fucking Grandpa Nico had given him the day before, during Joey's second visit. The visit had gone about the same as before. Joey had enjoyed it a lot more, knowing from the start how he was going to be treated and accepting his role as Nico's cum dump. But the card game and hanging with Nico's gang of friends while everyone treated him like an honored grandkid was fun too. As he rode towards the airport, Joey felt he was happy with how the Nico visits were going. In the distance, a white van raised dust, coming his way at some speed. It was actually kind of desolate out here. The new airport over at the city had taken most of the clients away in the last five years, so only a few hobbyists and rich businessmen used this outlying strip any more. Mr. Parish had told Joey to dress nice, so he was wearing dark blue slacks, dress shoes and a freshly-ironed short-sleeved shirt. He'd combed his hair too, even adding some gel to keep it neat. The van was not slowing down at all. Joey pulled off the roadside to give it space and put his head down to avoid the flying dust it was sure to bring. Instead of a 'whoosh', however, there was a squealing of brakes. Joey looked up in alarm just in time to see that the driver was wearing a mask. Then the van stopped right next to him. The big door was open and another masked man was hanging out of it. He lifted the stunned boy easily off his bike and pinned him chest-first onto the van's floor in one smooth action. Joey struggled to get his bearings as the van accelerated off. The man in the back said in a raspy growl, "Don't struggle and you won't get hurt." Joey wasn't sure he believed that, but there seemed to be little choice for him. The man grabbed his neck and slipped a hood over him, ending all his thoughts of fighting as the drawstring pulled tight. Joey felt flexible, narrow restraints hobble his wrists and ankles. Probably those plastic handcuffs he'd seen police use. The ride was short, less than fifteen minutes, with the man's knees pressed onto his spine the whole way. The men said nothing to each other, but the nature if their intentions was clear from the way the man on him was constantly feeling Joey up, sliding his hand up his back, around his chest and down to squeeze his ass. The kidnapper's voice carried a tense edge of lust and danger. "Gawd, you're such a pretty boy. You're so fucking perfect." When the van stopped, Joey was lifted out and carried up two flights of stairs before being dropped onto a bed. He tried to sit up, but the man grabbed Joey's arms and pinned him to the mattress, sitting on Joey's stomach. There was a distinct smell of manly sweat as the kidnapper above him leaned forward. "Don't move," he told Joey. "I've got a knife in my hands." The man cut open the zip ties holding Joey's hands. Immediately, Joey aimed a punch at where he guessed the man's head to be. He connected, but had no other effect. "Hey!" said the man in anger. "I told you I had a fucking knife. You want to get hurt, you little sumbitch?" The man let go of Joey's wrists and pulled the hood off the boy. His kidnapper was the cowboy from the movie theater! The man above Joey was tall. He wore a red, checkered shirt with the sleeves torn off in a jagged line at the shoulders. His arms looked strong, but not bulky. He held a hunting knife in his right hand. His dark blond hair was pulled back in a long ponytail and a tan cowboy hat sat on his head. Blond stubble covered his jaw and under squinty lids were intense gray eyes. It took Joey half-a-moment more to realized the man looked just a little crazy because his left eye was slightly crossed to the inside. "I know you," said Joey. "Not as good as you're gonna know me, you little slut." The man leaned down and kissed Joey full on the lips. Joey squirmed out of the way, but the man kept coming at him, holding Joey's face jaw with his left hand as he stuck his wet tongue against Joey's tightly shut lips. Underneath the sweaty smell was another aroma, not unpleasant, but raw and masculine, and it made Joey feel alert. The man pulled back and said, "I was going to cut your clothes off you, but you wriggle too much." The man threw the knife to the floor with a clatter. At first Joey had some hope that his resistance had discouraged the man from raping him. Instead, the cowboy just grabbed Joey's shirt in the middle and ripped it open, popping the buttons. The man ripped open the bottom half too, pulling the shirt out of the pants. "You're such a dirty boy. You dress like a church angel, but underneath, you're just a little slut who wants cock, aren't you?" "No! Please! Don't do this!" Everything was suddenly more real for Joey now that he was losing his clothes. He was going to be naked. He was going to be raped! The man above him kept knocking away Joey's arms when he tried to fight back. The boy was just too small. The shirt Mr. Parish had given him came apart bit by bit. When the cowboy grabbed Joey's belt, the boy made one last surge of effort to escape. The man managed to corral both his slim wrists in one strong hand and pinned them above Joey's head. He unbuckled Joey's belt, then unzipped the squirming boy. Joey had been riding his bike just a little while ago, all innocently, and now his pants were being pulled right off him. Well, not all innocently. He had been on his way to get fucked by a stranger. But he'd been willing. This was different somehow. Maybe it was the fact that he never had a chance to say yes-didn't even know this man. Maybe it was knowing that this man had stalked him for weeks like prey that made him feel like he was being victimized. Maybe it was the sheer animalistic suddenness of it that scared him. With Joey's pants gone, the cowboy rolled him onto his front, still keeping a firm grip on his wrists. A rough palm slid under Joey's underwear caressing his butt. He felt more violated by that one uninvited action than by his first time taking Mr. Parish's dick in his ass. The man growled, "I've been dreaming about an ass like this for ten years." Joey continued to squirm as the man yanked his briefs down and then off. The cowboy sat on Joey's lower back, pinning him. He let go of Joey's arms. Joey looked back and saw the cowboy's eyes looking crazier than ever as he undid his belt and jeans with a jangling noise. Joey couldn't turn his head enough to see the cock that was released, but he felt it soon enough. As the man dropped his jeans down to his bent knees, he leaned over Joey and the hard, hot cock nestled into Joey's ass cleft, slick with eagerness. He curled one arm around Joey's panting chest and used the other to line up the stiff rod with the boy's quivering butt hole. Joey was too scared and paralyzed to say anything. He did wonder why his little cock was hard. That didn't make sense. Joey didn't want this? Did he? Then his mind became incapable of thought. The cowboy's thick cock head broke into him and he screamed. This was the worst pain of his life. Not just the sensation of being rammed in his tiny ass by a massive cock, but knowing that he was being used and taken against his will. That there was more to come and that there was no escape. Joey's vision blurred and burned as tears ran down his cheeks. The man held Joey's body close with both arms now and rammed his cock into him an inch at a time, with jagged thrusts. Each hammering push felt like it had taken him to his limits, spreading him wider and more indecently than he had ever imagined. He knew he was still screaming, but no sound was coming out any more. His breath was gone. With a last flurry of urgent grinding, the cowboy finally seated himself all the way inside Joey, his dense, wiry pubes scraping against the boy's smooth ass. And immediately the man was pulling back and fucking Joey. The withdrawal eased the stretched pain of his passage at first. But the cowboy levered himself as he held Joey tight then fucked right back into the boy. A second thrust followed. Then a third. And a fourth. Each one feeling like a whole new assault on Joey's tender flesh. And it came more and more rapidly as the man's slick shaft plowed away Joey's resistance. His young body had started out rigid with panic, but it slid into slack limpness under the battering of the cowboy's cock. Each fuck stroke seemed to strike Joey in the gut like a punch. All he could do now was lie there and take it. But the cowboy wasn't going to let him off that easily. "You slut," he snarled in Joey's ear. "You make me so horny. You love making me lose control like this, don't you?" And then the man grabbed Joey by his upper arms. His hands were not much larger than average, but they were strong and felt like the talons of an eagle holding Joey at the mercy of its owner's predatory appetites. The man pressed Joey into the mattress as he squeezed his arms. Pinned, Joey felt the intensity of the fucking in his ass build even more. His hole was raw and each sliding touch of the shaft across his inflamed ring hurt. The stretched and torn feeling throbbed inside his passage. And his cock was rock hard. In fact, Joey was about to cum. Since starting his sexual adventures that fateful day in Mrs. Langstrom's bath tub, Joey had not cum during sex. The few occasions when Mr. Parish has sucked on Joey's little dick had been only foreplay. Joey had jacked-off like crazy on the nights after his encounters with Mr. Parish and Grandpa Nico, having tremendous orgasms. But never during the act. Getting raped was making Joey so horny that he was cumming. He fought it in his mind. He knew he hadn't asked for this. Despite what the man said about Joey being a slut who teased men, the man plowing him had no right to just take Joey like this. But knowing that it was happening anyway, whether Joey wanted it or not, only made the feelings more intense. All through Joey's pain-wracked body, an electric surge of joy and release bubbled up. He stiffened and his thighs, hips and stomach spasmed. As he came, his ass grasped at the cock fucking into his ass and the cowboy started panting, "Oh yeah. Show me you love this, baby. C'mon, little Joey, lemme feel that ass work for it. Show me you love me." The thrill of orgasm rose and peaked and then slowly ebbed out of Joey. His body was limp again, spent. But the cowboy was only just getting into the swing of things. He licked Joey's ear with on obscenely wet tongue as he kept up his vigorous, merciless ravishing of Joey's asshole. Joey felt like he was floating free, breathing in the aroma of sex and the cowboy's unique scent. The pain and pleasure had mingled into a feeling of lightness. He could hardly tell one from the other. While his body went slacker and slacker, his mind was lit up like a christmas tree on fire. And now the cowboy was coming too. His motions became jerky and and his breath was bursting against Joey's neck as he panted. Knowing that the man was cumming in his backside triggered a second cum for Joey. It was surreal to know that he'd been plucked of a street, thrown on a bed and rudely fucked in the ass by a man he didn't even know. It was exciting in the purest, most untamed sense of the word. And that made Joey hot, the feel of being subject to unbridled sexual energy. To be the victim/recipient/beneficiary of all the lust and hunger a man could have. He stiffened all over again and trembled, his cock hard. Through the blur of his orgasm he felt the man above him ramming into him as the cowboy surged through his own cum, sating his appetite with Joey's body, using it as a boy was never meant to be used, yet making Joey feel so very much in his place. As he grunted less and less intensely, the man eased his fucking and then stopped. He released his hold on Joey's skinny arms and let his weight fall on the boy. Joey was sandwiched between the man's chest and the bed, loosely wrapped in the man's arms. 'I've just been raped,' he thought to himself. 'A man just raped me. I need to get away and call the police. I have to-' Have to what? How could he explain this to the police? 'Yes, officer, I was on my way to get buttfucked by a man I don't know when this other man I don't know pulled me aside and buttfucked me. What's that? Of *course* it matters which stranger fucked me!' He wasn't a stupid kid. He knew the police would still charge the cowboy for rape. But he also knew that his secret would be out. No matter what, everyone would know him for a shameless slut. But it *did* matter that the cowboy had forced him against his will, didn't it? Even if Joey *was* a slut, he should still be the one choosing who to service. The rapist eased back, pulling his wet, softening tool free of Joey. For a moment, Joey tensed his legs for escape, but the cowboy put a firm hand on the back of Joey's neck, keeping his nose to the mattress. The man sat alongside Joey, keeping his grip and backed up to the head of the bed, leaning against the carved wooden board there. He pulled his jeans off and sat with his legs splayed. With shock and dismay, Joey realized his ordeal was not over. "Come clean this mess you made," said the man. "You made me cum inside your ass, you can't just leave me all slimy like this." The man pull Joey's lips to his lap, easily overcoming the boy's resistance. The side of his face smushed into the soft, wet tube of the cowboy's cock. He jerked back and wiped at his cheek with the back of his hand. A string of clear fluid connected his hand to his cheek. "Lick him," ordered the cowboy, centering Joey's face over the cock and pressing his head down so that his lips slid along the organ. It created an odd feeling in Joey. In the front of his mind, he was disgusted at the sticky, slick grossness of it all. But the back of his brain was pumping with excitement and a feeling of being alive. 'More!' it screamed. His raw emotion won and Joey stretched his tongue out. He scooped a dribble of thick cum from the side of the man's cock. The taste was sharp, like Mr. Parish's, but a felt more complicated, somehow. Like there was extra darkness in it. The door behind Joey clicked open. There had been a second man driving the van, Joey now remembered. He made to turn around and the cowboy's hands pressed him down. "You keep doing your work," he told the boy. "Your ass'll do fine without you needin' to pay it any attention." Fear thudded in Joey's chest. He was about to be raped again. And the cowboy's cock was getting hard once more. He'd sometimes wondered about getting double teamed, but he'd never had the courage to ask Mr. Parish if he'd bring in one of the men on the sex convict list to make it happen. And now he was going to have it forced on him. And he wouldn't even get to see who was fucking him up the ass. He felt it though. The man didn't even try to warm him up or anything. There was a shifting of the bed as the man climbed on and then a warm touch of knees against the insides of Joey's legs and BOOM, the man rammed his big, hard cock all the way into Joey. With his mouth pressed against the side of the cowboy's stiffness, Joey made only a muffled cry of protest. The cowboy took that as his cue to stuff the boy's mouth, holding his cockhead at Joey's lips and pressing it inside. The cock was too wide to fit comfortably in Joey's mouth. As he struggled with the hot pain in his back channel, he fought to keep his teeth from the cowboy's skin and to fit him inside. The flesh was warm and throbbing. With a few inches inside, the man loosened his grip on Joey's head, signaling that he wanted Joey to take over. Joey sucked tentatively, then more and more enthusiastically. The cock in Joey's ass soon felt surprisingly pleasurable, probably because he'd gotten opened up by the cowboy's wild fucking. The sensation was actually a comfortable familiarity at this point. His anal rapist kept things steady, though brisk, so Joey could concentrate on the cock in his mouth. With his lips sealed around the middle of the shaft, Joey sucked, stroking the underside of the meat with his tongue from time to time. The man in his ass sped up and came, and that knowledge, plus the feel of being in his first spit roast, was enough to put Joey over the edge one more time. But it was almost like the physical sensation was just a byproduct of the real thrill in his head. The knowledge of being used and being forced to serve was like what Joey imagined drugs would feel like. As the orgasm left his body and the body of the man fucking him, Joey kept up his worshipful sucking, savoring the taste and feel and smell. As the cock in his ass withdrew, Joey kept going, feeling more than ever like he was in his element. The cowboy groaned and held Joey's head below the ears. Then the huge cock in his mouth stiffened and pulsed and a fountain of warm cream erupted into Joey's grateful mouth. He swallowed and sucked, sucked and swallowed. Until it was all gone. Even when the cowboy took his softening cock out of his mouth, Joey refused to end his service, laying his cheek on the inside of the cowboy's thigh and licking at the bulges and spaces of his crotch. The cowboy stroked Joey's hair in a surprisingly gentle action. And Joey felt comforted like he never had before in his life. After about five minutes of this, the cowboy spoke to the man behind Joey. "Well, Doc, you were sure as fuck right about this kid. He took it and he loved it." Doc? Joey turned. Mister Parish was the other rapist. He sat at the foot of the bed with an amused expression on his face. "Hello, little Joey," his said. "Enjoy your first rape?" "I...but...bu- But I didn't want this. I didn't-" "Stop, okay?" said Mr. Parish in a commanding voice. Then with a bit of sympathy, he added, "I know that this was a bit harsh for you, but I had my reasons." 'A bit?' Joey wondered, still unable to actually speak. 'Rape isn't 'a bit' of anything. It's a lot.' The cowboy swung his legs off the bed in a lazy motion and rose. "I need some whiskey," he said, walking out, his firm ass flexing as he moved. "You want anything, Doc?" "I'm fine," said Mr. Parish. Then he turned to Joey and said, "Turn over let me examine you." After a brief flicker of distrust, Joey did so and soon felt the doctor pressing at the outsides of his anus with a gentle finger. With his other hand, the former doctor stroked Joey's back, comforting him. "Listen, Joey," he said, "I'm sorry this wasn't all that great an experience for you. I know you had to feel genuinely scared for a lot of it. But it was the only way to make it work." "Make what work?" "You are a special boy, Joey. A slut who loves being used by men. But some men have special needs. My friend, Sean...he was my cell mate for a while, he's one of those men that has very specific needs." "The cowboy?" Joey asked, turning over and looking up at Mr. Parish. The man's face was thoughtful and Joey could see he was trying hard to win him over. "Yes," said Mr. Parish. "Sean isn't like me. He's not a guy who falls in love with boys and seduces them or falls into friendships with them and has sex as part of a relationship. Sean loves dominating a boy. He needs it. He gets this thrill out of taking a boy against his will." "He's a rapist?" "In every sense of the word, yes." said Mr. Parish. "He's not a nice guy deep down inside. But he's trying to live right you see..." "He just raped *me*." Joey looked apprehensively through the door. He could hear Sean the cowboy moving around outside. He also got a good look at the room they were in. It was bare, with ragged carpeting. Three large cracks ran through the stained concrete from the edge of the lone window. "Did he?" asked Mr. Parish. "Of course he did. I told him not to. I *begged* him not to. And he held me down and..." Joey sniffed back tears remembering how powerless he had felt. "Sweet little Joey," said Mr. Parish, kissing him on the forehead. "It had to be you." "Why?" "Because you gave control of your sex life over to me. In a way you had already consented." "But I didn't know that he-" "No. Which is why you were perfect. Sean needed a boy who would struggle. He needed a boy who would be a victim. He's went to prison ten years ago. And he's been out for a few years now, holding himself back, but always on the edge. Always close to losing control and grabbing some poor innocent kid and ruining him." Mr. Parish squeezed Joey's hand reassuringly. "It's been building up and you gave him a way to let that all out of his system knowing that he wasn't really raping anyone." The implication that he was not innocent hurt Joey, though he knew it to be true. And how was it not really rape? It had sure felt like rape. Mr. Parish said, "I can see you're going to need some time to think this over before you understand. I'll get you dressed and take you for some food and get you home." Joey let Mr. Parish stand him up and put on his clothes automatically. Mr. Parish had a T-shirt to replace the shirt Sean had destroyed. "What's this?" said the cowboy's gruff voice from the doorway. "I thought we were going to have round two before we let him go?" Joey's brain panicked at the idea of being raped again and he squeezed against Mr. Parish's side. "He's not up for it," said Mr. Parish, smoothing Joey's hair into place. Sean looked disappointed and grunted before taking a sip from his glass and walking them down to the front door. Joey kept to the other side of Mr. Parish, away from Sean, as they walked down the stairs. They were in an abandoned warehouse Joey realized. The 'bedroom' had actually been an office. Just as Joey was about to gratefully slide out the exit, Sean said softly, "Kid...Joey." The boy turned to face the man who had raped him. Sean had a sheepish expression on his face as he said, "Um, I know I put you through a lot and maybe it wasn't right what I done, but I want you to know that I'm grateful. This thing today, it really helped me. I don't want to go back to being who I was." The man's crazy eyes seemed just a little calmer, but the lustful intensity was still there. Being thanked for something he did against his will seemed perverse to Joey. He just nodded his head, eyes down, simply wanting to get going. ..... Dinner that night was painful. Not just the residual throbbing of Joey's torn-up anus, but also that feeling of wanting to confess, to plead with his family to see what was happening to him and rescue him. Matthew gave him a few suspicious looks as he fidgeted. "You okay, Joey?" he asked suspiciously. "You seem edgy." Joey wanted to yell, 'No, I was raped today! And the guy plans to rape me again!' Instead, he said, "Yeah. I'm just worried about the state of the world. You know, global warming, economic meltdown, cultural degeneration." Those were buzzwords Matthew liked to throw around and he seemed unsure if Joey was mocking him or not. He finally grunted and went back to eating his peas. The grunt reminded Joey of the feeling of the cowboy above him. For a second, an image of Matthew raping him flashed through Joey's mind and he felt his cock twitch. Is this how it was going to be? Was he going to wonder how it felt to be raped by every man he met? E-mail comments to johnsmuttxxx@gmail.com To be continued in Chapter 4...