Come Christmas Steve Chapter 14 I Miss You! I Need You!
The apartment was trashed just like my dorm room had been. Calvin's place was always really messy but I immediately realized the massive mess splayed out before me was purposely done. Everything was pulled from the cupboards. Drawers had been removed and dumped out onto the floor. It was a complete disaster. We made our way into Calvin's computer room where we found him sitting on the floor just inside the door. His back was against the wall and his elbows were on his knees with both palms pressed to his forehead. The room had been gutted. All of his computers and equipment were gone. Cords were literally ripped from the walls and left strung across the floor and along the empty plastic tables where all his computers and monitors had been.
"I'm so fucked," Calvin muttered over and over. "I'm so totally fucked."
"Gawd-dammit!" Officer Stankowski cursed. "Was the thumb drive in here?"
Calvin didn't answer. He just kept muttering how fucked he was. "Gawd-dammit!" the stocky officer growled again. Then he turned his fury on me, "This is your fault, you stupid little butt fucker! If you hadn't lied to me, we'd have the damn drive back." He stormed out to the kitchen and made a phone call. I strained to listen in.
"It's me," Stankowski spoke. He wasn't really trying to prevent me from hearing, or if he was, he was doing a very poor job of it. "I'm here at the apartment. It's been raided. Everything's gone." There was a long pause. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me?" Another long pause. "It's not? Fuck. I don't know. Yes, all three of them obviously. I have to assume they do. I told you that already." Another pause. "I'll be right there. Fuck!"
Without saying a word to us, he stomped out. Calvin was still muttering in shock of his loss. I nudged him with my shoe. "Snap out of it. We need to go to the boy's home now." He shoved my foot away and glared up at me.
"Fuck off. I'm not going anywhere with you. You're fucking poison. This is your fault. My life was perfect until you showed up with that fucking thumb drive. Now look at this? The bank is going to can my ass faster than you can say Bernie Madoff. The cop's right, you should have given up the drive to him from the beginning like I tried to tell you. But NOOOOO! You had to be fucking Sherlock Holmes. So I'm done. Go play CSI if you want to, but leave me out of it from now on."
I stepped back from his barrage. I realized he was pretty much right. I'd been stubborn and stupid. But I wasn't going to give up. Steve was still missing. I still needed to find him and make sure he was safe. If no one else helped, I would not quit. Not ever.
"You're right. I'm sorry. I know that doesn't cut it, but I am." I looked at Whittaker. "I'm sorry I got you into this too. You tried to tell me the same thing, but I didn't listen. Are you staying with Calvin or are you coming with me to the boy's home?"
"I'm with you. I told you I would stand by you on this to the end and I will."
I smiled with relief. "Thanks. Let's go then."
Whittaker reached a hand down to Calvin and Calvin took it. Whittaker pulled him to his feet and then drew him into a hug. "Dude, I'm sorry about this. But I'm glad that drive brought us together. I'll be back and help you clean up and we'll figure out what to do next." Calvin didn't answer. He just nodded appreciatively against Whittaker's chest. I didn't want to rush them but I did want to go. I cleared my throat and they got the hint. Whittaker and I took a taxi to a car rental company. I rented a car and we drove to the boy's home using the navigator on Whittaker's phone. I parked in a visitor space and we headed toward the office.
Whittaker stopped suddenly and grabbed my arm. "Look," he said. In the parking space designated as Reserved for Director, was a new Camaro with the vanity plate, Simba, on it. "That's the car I saw Steve getting into. The one we thought was Todd's at first. It was that Simba dude's car instead."
I got excited. We were onto something big. We quickened our step into the building and up the stairs. We entered the door and a couple of clerks greeted us. "Can I help you?" one of them asked.
"We need to speak to the Director," I stated with urgency.
"Do you have an appointment?"
"No. But we have to see him. It's important," I answered.
"Can I tell him who you are and what it's about?"
"He won't know us, but you can tell him that it's about a boy who used to live here and has come up missing. Steve Fahrenheit."
"Okay. Have a seat." The clerk, who looked to be in his early twenties, stepped into an office and closed the door. A young boy, maybe twelve years old was sitting next to me wearing shorts and a tee shirt, swinging his legs. He was barefoot. He smiled up at me and I smiled back at him. There were a half dozen others of similar age waiting there as well. They all had the same buzzed haircut and were dressed like the cutie sitting next to me.
The young clerk emerged a few minutes later and waved us in. I was not expecting what I encountered. The office was decorated in all kinds of Disney paraphernalia. Posters, mugs, banners, pictures and a giant Mickey Mouse sitting in a wooden rocking chair in the corner. On the credenza was a large stuffed Simba.
The Director stood and reached out his hand. He was tall - taller than Whittaker and skinny as a bean. He had bushy blond hair wound in tight curls. I got this crazy idea that he looked like a toilet brush, or maybe a Q-tip.
"So what can I do for you gentlemen?" Simba asked. I looked at the name on his desk and it read, Daniel Whitmore. I was certain this was Steve's good king. He had mentioned the name Daniel, I was sure of it.
"I am a roommate of someone who used to be one of your residents here," I began. "His name is Steve Fahrenheit. He's missing."
"I think I remember him. He was a good student. Missing, you say?" Simba asked.
"Yes. He just disappeared and we need to find him. We are afraid he may be in some kind of trouble." I didn't want to reveal too much too soon.
"I'm sorry for that. How did you think I could help?"
"We think he may have come to you for help, or at least tried to contact you," I answered.
"No, no I'm sorry. Most boys are quite happy to never return here. While we try to make it as positive of an experience as possible, it's really not like home. I remember Steve somewhat - good student, mostly quiet - but I doubt he really thinks much about me. He wasn't the kind of boy who needed to visit the director very often, since he never got into any trouble. I'm afraid you came all this way for nothing," he said with a shrug.
"All this way?" Whittaker asked. "What makes you think we came a long way?"
"You said you were roommates, so I assumed you came from Montana State."
"Interesting assumption. You're pretty young to be a Director of such a large facility. How is it you landed such a big job at your age?" Whittaker picked up a porcelain statuette of Walt Disney and turned it in his hands. He turned it over and noticed it had been autographed by Walt himself with the big sweeping W and D.
The director was scowling at Whittaker, "I'd prefer you didn't handle that. It's very expensive. I bought it at auction." Whittaker set it carefully down on the desk and smiled.
"I apologize. You have some very nice stuff in here. You really like Disney, I see. That's a pretty nice car outside parked in your space as well. Director of a boy's home must pay pretty well. Maybe I should rethink my major. Where did you graduate from?"
Simba wrapped a large hand across his chin and said in a measured tone, "My career path is really not your concern. I'm afraid I can't help you right now or at all, really. I'm due to take some of our boys on a well deserved, off campus, recreational activity. So I need to apologize again for not being able to help you, and wish you well in your search." He stood up and moved from around his desk.
"Just one more thing, I'm a little confused about your vague memory of Steve. He had very fond memories of you and spoke of you highly and often. Doesn't that seem - odd?"
"Not really," Simba quickly responded. "The boys in here mostly lack a father figure of any type to imprint on. I'm sure I have no idea how deep of an impression I've had on many of the boys here."
Whittaker managed to get the last word in and it was classic Whittaker style. "Yes, I'm sure you have had a penetrating impression on many of the boys." The director glared at him and ushered us out, closing and locking his door behind him. The director smiled at the waiting boys and asked, "Who's ready to go have some fun?" A rousing cheer erupted as the boys hopped off the chairs.
Whittaker and I walked down the stairs and moved to our rental car. "If he were any more full of shit, he'd need to diaper his face," I said.
"Seriously," Whittaker agreed. "Don't leave just yet. I want to see what's going on with those boys," Whittaker instructed me. Shortly, the boys showed up carrying their towels and loaded onto a small bus. Four older teens came from another building also wearing shorts and carrying towels. They looked a little sulky about going. Simba came out last and got on the bus as the driver and sole chaperone. They pulled out and Whittaker urged me to follow them, but not too closely. "Go the opposite way but don't turn until they do," he instructed me. When we saw which way they went, we wrapped around the block and followed from a safe distance to avoid detection.
They wound their way towards the lower income part of town where the modern supermarkets gave way to corner liquor stores and the beauty parlors were replaced with massage and tattoo parlors. The bus pulled into a nicely maintained, but older motel called the Cozy Cottage and the boys piled out. They headed into a room near the pool that was positioned in the center of the rooms. Shortly after that, we watched as all the boys, young and old came rushing out and jumped into the pool.
They played and splashed like young boys do in a swimming pool, horsing around and were very much enjoying themselves. The older boys put the younger boys on their shoulders and battled each other, trying to tip and dunk the other teams. Simba disappeared through a gateway and behind the motel. We watched for a while and then Simba returned and summoned two of the young boys out of the pool. Reluctantly, the boys climbed out and dried off. They dutifully followed Simba back through the gate. "C'mon. Let's go see what's going on back there," Whittaker said.
We got out of the car and crossed the street. We went into the parking lot of the liquor store next door and made our way to the back fence. He helped me up on the dumpster and then he climbed up next to me. We peered over the fence and could see that there were more rooms on the back side and an underground parking area. We stayed low and hopefully inconspicuous. About thirty minutes went by and we were about to abandon our post when the two boys came out of a room looking a bit distraught. Then they brightened as one tagged the other and they raced each other back to the pool. Simba emerged from the room they had been in and then returned with two more young ones and two of the older boys. Simba gave the older boys some instruction and then ushered the younger ones into the motel room. The older ones headed down into the parking area, but not before one of them flipped Simba off behind his back.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" I asked.
"Yes. It has to be." Whittaker motioned for me to jump down. "I'd be willing to bet there's a bunch of cheap western art hanging on the walls of that room." We made our way back to the car and tried to figure out what to do about it. It was obvious to us that this was the porno studio. The older boys were being sent to the dungeon room and the younger boys were seemingly posing in the motel rooms like the pictures we'd viewed from the thumb drive. Whittaker wrote the name and address of the motel down before we left and then we drove the three and a half hours back to school in Bozeman, arriving just as the sun was setting. Whittaker went to his dorm and grabbed his laptop and then we rushed over to Calvin's apartment. It was early evening by this point.
Whittaker took out a key and let us in. I was surprised to see he had his own key. I guess I shouldn't have been. We found Calvin lying naked on his bed with a pillow over his head. "Get up," Whittaker said.
"Why?" Calvin groaned.
"Because we need your help."
He pulled the pillow away and glared at Whittaker. "Fuck off. I'm not playing anymore, remember?"
"It might help you get your computers back."
Calvin sat up like he'd been ejected from a jetfighter cockpit. "Really?" he asked suspiciously.
"Really. We need to see if you can find out who owns a certain motel."
Calvin dropped back and pulled the pillow over his head. "Can't help you. They stole my modem, my router and all my computers."
"I have my laptop and we can hotspot on my phone," Whittaker said. "Get the fuck up."
"Uggghh. I don't want to," Calvin whined.
"I'll reward you later if you do," Whittaker offered.
"My choice?" Calvin asked peeking out from the pillow.
"Your choice."
"Okay. Show me what you got." He hopped out of bed and bounced over to take the laptop from Whittaker. No matter how much he protested, he really did want to be involved and he really did love the sleuthing. We went to the vacant computer room and sat at one of the fold up plastic tables. Whittaker turned on his hotspot and Calvin started doing his magic. "The Cozy Cottage is owned by Arthur McMahon, a family law judge in Missoula. He bought it fifteen years ago out of bankruptcy," Calvin proudly announced giving his little dick and balls a tug and a scratch. Then he continued "Here's some useful dirt from his last re-election campaign. There were claims that he was running a prostitution ring from that very motel you had me look up. It says he was pimping out the drug moms that came before his court in exchange for lighter sentences. How fucked up is that? It was all dismissed after investigations failed to provide sufficient evidence, however. Nothing stuck. Hmmm, mmm, mmm, mmm." Calvin scanned the pages. He followed link after link, skimming the articles and then declared, "Cowabunga! I just hit the mother-fucking-lode."
We gathered around. "Look! A scandal rocked the local boy's home that respected judge, Arthur McMahon, is a long time contributor to. Apparently there were allegations of sexual abuse being inflicted on the younger boys there. The ring leader of the abuse was a young man who had lived his whole life at the boy's home. The older teen was found with evidence of the abuse on his personal computer that he used for school at a nearby Christian academy he was allowed to attend by special privilege. Because none of the victims were more than three years of age younger than the perpetrator, also a minor, and all of them insisted it was consensual, he couldn't be charged with a child assault felony. But, he was found guilty of possession of illegal, pornographic images and was added to the sexual predator list and sentenced on a plea deal to a short term in youth detention and then put on probation. Plus, the cherry on top is right here: Presiding judge in the matter, the not-so-honorable Arthur McMahon. There were claims of impropriety on the judge's part for not recusing himself since he was a large contributor to the boy's home. Any guesses who that young perpetrator was?"
"Steve," Whittaker and I both answered.
"Holy shit," I said. "I really am at fault for all of this. Steve was flying under the radar until I opened up that Facebook in his name and Simba saw it. That stupid Simba freak is so involved in all of this. I know he is. He lied so badly about not knowing Steve. The way Steve talked, I have the strong feeling Simba was bedding with Steve. Now what do we do?"
"This time, we do what we should have done all along. We call the cops," Calvin said firmly.
"Yeah. Let's call Stankowski," Whittaker said.
"I guess we need to. We have to protect the boys from that fucked up judge, Arth ... Arty! Holy shit! Arty is short for Arthur. Pull up a picture of the judge." Calvin did and we all gasped. "That's gotta be the asshole in the porno pictures who messes with the older boys. It's Uncle Arty. That fucker's not donating to the boy's home, he's investing in the perfect, porno labor pool. It's a perpetual source of victims who have no one to tattle to. Simba, the home's director, is obviously in on it, so who can they go to? Shit! This is big."
"You're right. Oh my god. You're totally right," Whittaker agreed.
"What I don't get, though," I pondered, "Is why Steve spoke so highly of that Daniel slash Simba character and also of Uncle Arty. He had to know what sleazebags they were, yet he only had fond, positive things to say about them."
"I hate to keep bursting your bubble, but he got sucked into their little scheme. He went to the dark side. But before we call," Calvin said, "I want to collect my fee. It's too late tonight for that cop to answer his phone anyway."
I chuckled and said, "Sure. I'll go back to the dorm and do some homework. We can call in the morning. You two have fun."
"Um, not so fast Bieber-breath. We agreed it would be my choice on what goes down tonight if I helped out. And my choice is for a three way. I suck your sweet dick while King Dong here fucks my ass with his gigabyte-sized hard drive."
"Wait. What?" I objected. "I never agreed to that."
"Look! You owe me big time. This is what I want. Time to make it up to me for all the trouble you've caused."
I pondered for a while, thinking I really didn't want to because it would still feel like cheating on Steve to me. But maybe it was all the pictures I'd seen of Steve with all those other boys and with Uncle Arty, or maybe it was just that I was losing hope of ever having Steve back in my arms again. Maybe it was seeing Steve and Todd fucking each other, which really bothered me, but whatever it was, I relented. "Oh, all right. I guess I do owe you. Let's get on with it then."
We followed Calvin into the bedroom and stripped as naked as he had been all along. He really hated wearing clothes in the apartment and would absentmindedly, fiddle with himself when he was in deep thought. King Dong located a condom and lube and prepped his enormous dick. Whittaker was already boned to the max and performed his tasks in quick anxious movements. He was plainly horny and excited for the sexual event about to take place. I could see he was totally into the three way action and kept sneaking long, lustful glances at my naked body. I liked it that both Calvin and Whittaker found me sexually attractive. I'd never really thought of myself in that way growing up. I guess because the guys I liked and wished would like me back in that sexy way, were all into girls. I never felt anyone's eyes undressing me or checking me out like these two did.
Calvin directed me to sit up against the headboard and spread my legs. He climbed between my knees and took my semi-limp dick into his fingers and started to fondle and play with it. He licked up along my pleasure shaft and fondled my delicate balls. He perched his chubby ass up in the air and wiggled it in horny anticipation of the fucking he was about to receive. That made me smile with amusement and also left me longing just a little bit for some butt filling action of my own. Hopefully, I'd find Steve and be filled with him again soon. I closed my eyes and pretended it was Steve licking my boy parts and as I did that, I felt the swelling accelerate until I was as tall and hard as I could get. "Nice! You like that, don't you?" Calvin cooed.
"Huh? Oh, yeah. You're good at that, dude. Real good." Calvin beamed at my compliments. "Hey?" I asked, "Could you get one of your dildo toys and let me put it up inside me?"
"I'm on it," Whittaker immediately volunteered. He climbed down and pulled a midsized one from the drawer and greased it up for me. Calvin snatched it from him to have the insertion honors. I reached down and spread my ass cheeks while Calvin pressed the smooth rubber toy into place. I smiled in satisfaction and squeezed my ring around it. It was not as good as the real thing, but so much better than the brush or broom handles I'd used before. Calvin resumed his position and stuck his ass back up for his turn at getting plugged.
Whittaker greased up Calvin's shaved ass and prepped for entry. He smeared a sizable glob of lube over the pucker hole and then worked it in with his finger. Whittaker's fingers were long enough to reach Calvin's magic spot and Calvin had to catch his breath when he did so. After the short, preparatory finger action, Whittaker took aim by setting the broad, purple tip of his mighty dick against the freshly greased hole and pushed his way in. He went half way on the initial thrust, causing Calvin to freeze like a marble statue while he did. "OH! Oh, oh, oh," Calvin gasped in soft low tones while he clenched his eyes tightly shut. Slowly, Calvin relaxed and Whittaker slid the rest of the way in until he was fully buried into the tight cavern. A look of sheer satisfaction washed over Calvin's face and he whimpered an impassioned moan. "Oh, hell yeah," he moaned. "Hella good." Calvin opened his eyes and tilted his head back to look up into my eyes. I smiled at him as he reached up and pinched my protruding nipples.
"Feel good?" I asked.
"Hell yeah! I love King's dong up my ass. You should try it sometime."
Whittaker's eyes widened when I looked up at him with a spreading grin. He was shaking his head and mouthing the words, "No. No, don't tell him. Don't tell him. No, no, no." I had to really work hard at suppressing a smile and quickly broke eye contact with Whittaker.
"I don't think I could handle it like you can, dude. I'm just not a big enough ass, I guess." Whittaker let go of Calvin's hips and clasped both hands over his mouth until he regained composure.
Calvin was oblivious and a little dreamy-eyed. "You're so hot, Shane. I can't wait to suck your beautiful dick. I've dreamed about this from our first night together when you shot your sweet cum on me. You and King should leave the fucked up dorms and move in here with me."
I forced an appreciative smile as Calvin extended his tongue and licked around my glans. I'd lost some of my hardness during our little verbal exchange and dildo insertion but his tongue action began to reverse that. He slurped my thickening penis past his soft lips and into his moist cavern. The soft warmth of his mouth quickly coaxed Little Shaney up to full mast. Then, Whittaker smiled at me as I reacted to the blowjob and started up his thrusting action on Calvin's ass. I honestly found it more than a little erotic watching Whittaker slide his long, thick shaft in and out of Calvin's smooth ass while Calvin suckled and teased my rock hard bone. I wished it was Steve's dick instead of a lifeless dildo doing the same thing to mine.
Calvin tugged on my balls and tweaked my nipples while he encompassed my dick from tip to base, easily swallowing the top inch into his throat. I was easy to manage since he'd deep throated Whittaker before. As the tempo picked up, Calvin started to grunt with each pounding thrust from Whittaker and he sucked me harder and harder in response to his own heightened stimulation. I instinctively clawed and scratched his back while he sucked me to the edge of the orgasmic precipice.
I held back as long as I could, striving to manage and control the building sensations. The tingles started at the base of my skull. I focused on Whittaker's contorted face, clenched teeth, and bulging neck veins as he relentlessly pounded Calvin's quivering ass. "Ahhh! Cum Shaney, Cum!" I cried out loudly from old habit and jerked upward at the waist, away from the headboard. My eyes bugged out and focused like a laser on the furious sucking action being applied to my suddenly tender dick. The head of my dick felt like a million pins were jabbing at it all of a sudden as the thrill of a powerful orgasm reverberated from head to toe. I clenched my toes and pressed my knees into Calvin's rib cage. I relished the spasms of my ass on the rubber toy filling it, enhancing my experience. A full load of thick, hot cum burst from my balls and propelled its way up my stiff, pulsating shaft into Calvin's eager mouth. Once I started shooting, Calvin pulled off and held my dick like a fire hose, directing my blasts of cum across his face and onto his tongue. That image sent Whittaker over the edge and he cried out, tightened his grip on Calvin's hips, and drove himself deep, deep, deep into Calvin's ass, delivering his own thick, hot load into the condom, yelling out loud with each pleasurable burst.
"Quick!" Calvin begged after Whittaker was finally done exploding into him. "Suck me off! Spin around and suck me off! Hurry! Hurry, while King's dong is still up inside there." I hesitated, but then decided what the hell. I'd gone pretty far already. Even though I'd spent my load and wasn't really motivated to return the oral favor I'd just been treated to, I spun around and quickly jockeyed into position under his dick. Calvin lowered his hairless penis down into my mouth and I sucked the hard little pricklet with a vengeance. Occasionally, I'd slip off his small dick and suck both of his smooth little balls into my mouth and caress them with my tongue and teeth. I could see Whittaker's large balls dangling above me, drooping and resting against Calvin's smooth, round ass cheeks. I watched as they descended, pulled back up briefly and then descended some more. "Finish me!" Calvin begged. I spit out his balls and resumed my efforts on his reddened penis.
Calvin bucked his loins into my mouth while he sucked on my balls, since we were now lying in the 69 position. Whittaker remained draped over Calvin's back still recovering from his recent joyride. I could feel the slime of my own cum smearing from Calvin's face onto my now softened dick and relaxed balls while he sucked and licked on me. Soon, he squeezed my face between his thighs and pumped his juices into my mouth. It was sweeter than I remembered Steve's to be - probably because Calvin ate so many sweets. It bothered me that I couldn't remember for sure just how Steve tasted, or smelled, or even felt inside my mouth.
When Calvin finished spurting, I milked the last drops from his tender reed and we all disconnected. A wave of self-loathing flooded through me and I was suddenly revolted by what I'd just done. It was nothing more than cheap sex and was not in any way comparable to the love Steve and I made together. I reached down and jerked the imitation penis from my ass in a painful extraction as penance for my weakness. While the momentary rush of orgasm had been similar and even quite powerful, the full experience was cheap and unsatisfying. I spat Calvin's unswallowed cum onto the bed sheets and scraped what I could from my tongue by dragging it across my front teeth as if that would somehow diminish my sin. Tears stung at my eyes and my nostrils burned from trying to hold back my emotions. "Oh, Steve," I whispered, "I'm sorry. I miss you. I miss you so much. Please be alive. Please be safe. I don't care what you may have done, I love you. I want you. I need you."
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I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I am working already on chapter 15 and it should follow relatively soon. Keep checking as Shane continues his search for his lost love who he has fallen so hard for. Will he ever reunite? Will Steve ever be his again or is he lost forever and if so, how will Shane move on?
I love to hear from you and I will do my best to respond to your comments and feelings about the story. Thanks to all of you who have sent me such nice emails. As always, a million thanks to my editors, Flip and Paul, who make all the difference.
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Hans Schreiber, h.schreiber@hushmail.com