I regretted not having worn a jacket, it was cool and drizzling rain by the time I pedalled down town. I had no problem finding the brown-stone townhouse, although I was uncertain of the exact address. It was a shot in the dark looking for Jill there, I wasn't certain if it was the weather or fear that raked me, shivering uncontrollably as I rang the door bell.
I almost turned away after a short while, abandoning the hope when the door opened and the same man that I had seen before stood there in silk pajamas, a scorn on his face, inquisitive to my intrusion.
"Hello, Sssir" I stuttered, "I...I...I'm looking for Jillian. You know him... the boy that... ya know, comes here sometimes?" I asked feeling like a fool, but getting to the point and sheepishly looking at the ground, "Is he here by chance? -- I mean, I know that he... that he comes here, Sir."
The man's face grew red and flared, "I know no one named... whatever you said the name was..."
"But you must recognize me, I was here once with Jillian... well, he's fifteen... long brown hair --I waited outside for him and..."
"Fuck off young man, I know nobody by that name... let alone a young boy! -- Good night!" he refuted and slammed the door.
Something came over me, very out of character for me indeed, I screamed at the top of my lungs continuously ringing his bell, "You fucking old pervert, Charles! Open the fucking door and talk to me you fucking boy-fuckin' pedophile!... I know that you've been fucking my friend and giving him cash and drugs for it, and..."
The door opened and slammed into the side wall, the man stood there in fear, sweat rolling down his face, he made a move to grab my neck but I retracted quickly enough and stared him in the eye.
"I will scream my fucking heart out if you try and touch me again, Charles!" I threatened, "I know that you know Jillian and I only want to know if you've seen him lately... that's all, okay? -He's my boyfriend and I'm looking for him, I promise, Sir" I begged, tears began to flow uncontrollably.
The man looked around cautiously and invited me into the foyer with a hurried wave. The place looked huge and nice, brass and wood adorned the expanse that I could see. Jillian said the man was rich and judging by his home, that was indisputable.
Invited further after instructions to remove my shoes, apprehensively I followed, despite not knowing if he had information or contact with Jill. A beautiful living room with a blazing fire place is where I was instructed to sit. He was being very nice to me, offering liquor to which I accepted a cooler, sipping it in rapid, nervous haste.
His demeanor had changed from fear of me to obliging host, the bulge in his pajama bottoms spoke volumes of his intentions after I purposefully removed my rain damp t-shirt and moved to the floor closer to the warm fire. I was scared shitless, but if the man had any information about Jillian, I would get it out of him as deceitful as it was.
I remembered Jillian saying that he was getting to old for the man's preference for young boys. I imagined that it was Texas that supplied Charles' libido, Jillian being Jillian, just cashed in on the knowledge, perhaps blackmailing when he, himself became expendable to the man.
It was not ten minutes later that I felt woozy, out of control, lifeless and helpless as a rag-doll. I was fully cognisant of my surroundings and plight as he removed my clothes. He was going to rape me, and he did exactly that. He had turned the tables on me. I had been a willing boy whore lately and now a regrettable cock teaser and right then I was feeling used and ashamed of myself.
His vise like grip on my genitals was excruciating as he forced his way into me. The louder I screamed, the more he seemed to like it, even slapping my face hard and laughing. The urge to fight him off was definitely there, run naked out the door if I could, but I was paralyzed and at his mercy. He had drugged me, I concluded. So fast and shockingly efficient, I wondered in the man was some kind of doctor to have such knowledge and skill.
He laid atop me spent, whatever narcotic he fed me was wearing off quick. I had functional mobility in my arms first and shortly there after in my legs. I rested to be sure I was completely agile before I slithered out from under him, wobble kneed and dizzy. He made an attempt to grab my ankle, but I manged to pull away and run, falling once and becoming disorientated.
I crawled to where I saw a telephone, a welcome help line that I managed to pull from a table and have crash onto the floor. He was close behind, I felt his hands on my waist pulling me back. The attempt to punch in 911 was only succeeded in milliseconds before I was thrust away and punched in the head, I wasn't even sure that I was successful until I heard the faint voice of the operator.
"911 emergency, fire, ambulance or police.--- Hello, is anybody there?"
He muffled my mouth and called me a fucking idiot in my ear. He was very angry and hit me again. I bit his hand and tried to scream, but he endured the pain to keep me silent, I tasted his blood.
"Hello, 911 emergency, is anyone there? What is your emergency please?"
I had a sudden recollection of a policeman coming to my class many years ago. He said that if you were in trouble, you didn't even have to ask for help. Help would be on the way right away regardless after dialing 911 even if no one communicated an urgency.
He held my mouth and dragged me toward the phone where he attempted to appease the operator that it was a mistake call and all was well, no need to send the troops and hung up laughing to the operator.
He released my mouth and smiled. "You little shit! I should whip your little tight ass for that, young man."
I coughed, trying to get air, "They're coming anyway, you know. Just minutes away from here to make sure everything is okay... it's standard practise with 911 calls. I learned that in school, ass hole!"
He looked at me in horror realizing that I may be right! I grabbed my jeans and shoes leaving my t-shirt, underwear and socks behind and ran out the door as fast as I could pulling my jeans up on the run, stumbling in my haste much to the astonishment of a few passerby on the sidewalk. A police car was nearing and I bolted into an alley. Trouble was my bike was locked up to a light pole outside Charles' place. I would have to wait till the cops were satisfied that no emergency existed in Charles' home and hopefully, no one reported a naked boy coming out of the townhouse.
A half hour later the coast was clear. I had my bike in my possession but couldn't resist a broken piece of cobble-stone side walk and after a quick glance around, shattered Charles' large living-room window before speeding off with a smile on my face.
My next stop looking for Jill would have been Texas' place had I known exactly where it was other than close to the 'boy-stroll.' That night I was too sick and delirious to remember where I was taken, so I drove around and around, up and down streets looking for anything familiar. Then I saw it! Southern Fried Chicken, "eat in, or take out!"
Texas had made a joke that came to me suddenly that the place was his second kitchen, just across the avenue and almost as good as his mama used to make. He treated us to fried chicken that night we were at his home! I remembered the attached garage and realized only one house had that feature. Eureka!
I dumped my bike and ran to the door literally crying in good luck. Jillian had to be there, I felt a powerful connection as I shook uncontrollably and rang the bell again and again. I saw a shadow in the peep hole and jumped up and down in excitement when the door opened and Texas stood there, the size of the door frame but what a beautiful sight to see!
"Jacky boy, that you hammerin' away on my bell? -- Well I'll be a monkey's uncle, damn tar nation, cummon in. Where's your shirt, boy? It's colder out than a Southern Bell in man-O-pause, I do declare!"
"Hi Texas, I'm looking for Jillian.... please, is he here?"
"Damn, yer tender young nipples are perkier than a sow nursin' ten piglets on six tits, git your ass in here. Why is it ever time I see ya yer freezin' to death? And look at those pants, saturated like ya all pissed yourself! -- Come on boy, lets git ya outta those wet pants and warmed up."
"Texas, I need to find Jill. I - I - I'm looking for him!" I rang out, "Please tell me where he is... if anyone knows, well... you would, Sir!" I begged as he hauled me into the bathroom.
"Strip off them wet shoes and pants, boy! Put this towel around ya if yer shy like I knows ya is a'ready."
I stripped in front of him, hell, I was used to being naked in front of people by now.
"Damn it all anyway, boy! You are one fuckin' hot piece of boy meat."
"Where is he, Texas? I beg you... please tell me!"
Texas felt up my ass cheeks with both hands then turned my around sharply.
"Boy why is ya all greased like a stuffed pig on a spit, and yer ass all red like, too!?"
"A man I went to see about finding Jill... he took me that way. He drugged me with something then he fucked me. I got away after; that's how I lost my shirt and underwear." I didn't elaborate on what led to my escape.
"Son of a bitch! Who was he, ya say Hoover knew him?"
I explained about the man Charles, Texas knew instantly who the man was. My assumption that he probably supplied boys to Charles was correct.
"Gonna have ta pay me a visit on old Charles fer rapin' one of my boys and not payin' fer it either. I mean ya ain't one of my boys technically, but he don't need know that! -- Now y'all hop in the shower and clean yer self up, I'll give ya fifty bucks upfront fer yer trouble, I'll collect from Charlie later."
I sensed he was stalling in telling me anything about Jillian, but I felt it was a good omen that he didn't flat out tell me he hadn't seen him. He knew something and I was determined to find out what.
Wrapped in a towel I made my way into the living room. Two teen boys around 16 or so knelt on the floor on either side of the coffee table that was covered in white powder. My heart skipped a beat, I wanted some of that shit badly. Texas was seated in his chair and must have seen my desires and told me to go for it.
Tim and Billy were the boys names, Billy lined up two long snorts and moments later I felt the tingling sensation and blissful relaxation. The good stuff again, not the shit Danny got for me. The effects were felt moments later. The world was a happy place once again.
Texas pulled me up and placed me on his lap. I didn't mind when his hand made it's way inside the towel and fondled me as he conversed with the two boys, some kind of instructions about best positioning for camera shots inside the 'sound stage' bedroom with the race car bed.
Tim said, "Well, lets get this over with then, my girlfriend's waiting for me to fuck her."
"Ya, right!" laughed Billy, slapping his knee. "She's 13, asshole, and the only thing you got so far was a blow job, cuz you convinced her... as a last resort, mind you, telling her that you've sucked cock before, and it ain't as repulsive as she thinks!"
"Well it worked!" Countered Tim. "And..."
"That's 'nugh, boys." Interjected Texas, "We have a video to shoot."
Fifteen minutes later, I was in Texas' sound booth watching Tim and Billy get it on together from many different camera views. Tilt and zoom, Texas manipulated the cameras adding for my benefit that close ups taken from other video would later be inserted for ultimate erotic effect, regardless of the cast of actors.
"No sense re-inventing the wheel," he proclaimed with a chuckle, "a cock up an ass... well... is a cock up an ass, -- who's gonna know the difference? Blow jobs are easy to record from this vantage point ans that's what I concentrate on."
Tim and Billy performed so well that I was envious. Tim reminded me a lot of Jillian, same stocky build, hair, even his cock looked the same as Billy worked it lovingly on close-up camera. I could hold back no longer.
"Texas... where's Jillian? Why haven't you told me anything?" I asked with my head lowered and sad. Tears began to flow.
Texas looked at me and suddenly ignored his technical endeavour and sighed. "Young 'un... I would take ya to him, but ya ain't gonna like what ya see. -- Hoover's always been his own worst enemy. Sometimes...I think he"s done changed fer the better... like when he met y'all." he smiled, "twas like when he was with that man friend of his... Carl, all happy 'n ever'thing one minute, then outta control the next!"
"His momma findin' out and all... well, she done chased the man away from him. I wonder to this day in tar nation how things might've been different fer Hoover. The man loved him... that was clear as mud on a pig's feets, so it was!" he reflected, a tear noticeable in his eye. "But the boy went bad af'er that. Hated ever'one... 'specially his momma!"
The truth was finally being told, I knew a lot already but Texas' recount was an eye opener.
"He done hated this partic'lar gym teacher at school... used to make fun of him ya know, call him names. His momma went and told the school 'bout him and how the man molested him for years... so she said, anyway.
"Then every one know'd bout it! Word travelled fast and that asshole gym teacher had a lot to do with that... teasin' the boy relentless, he did! Then Hoover got even... the only way he know'd how. He lied and said that the teacher made sexual advances at em! Caused a big scandal, so he did. Teacher had ta resign o'er it. Only fact in Hoover's story was that he seen the man naked in the shower one day after every one else was gone home only cuz he had to stay and clean up the locker room as some kind'a punishment.
"Guess the teacher had a prom'nant mole on his dick that Hoover described to the authorities... and the rest was history!" he concluded.
A very different version of what Jill had told me. He lied to me and that made my heart break. I truly believed he had been honest with me, held nothing back during our infrequent, after sex talks about his past.
"So... his ol' man finds out about Carl from the ex, then 'bout the gym teacher of course and accuses him of be'in a fag boy. Course when his mum lost custody and social serv'ces sent him to live with the daddy, it wasn't a warm welcome."
"But why did he go to reform school?" I asked. "He said it was cuz of a girl that..."
"It was 'cause he... he molested a young boy he used to baby sit. Wasn't satisfied gettin' a reg'lar blow job after school; he tried to fuck the kid. Left tell-tale signs... hurt the boy bad!"
"Where is he Texas?" I begged, "I don't care about that shit!"
He turned his attention back to his recordings and said, "Best If I just take ya home, young'un. Ya don't need him in yer life; mark my words, lad."
"Where is he Tex? I have to find him and take him home!" I pleaded, tears flowing like a river. "Please Texas, tell me where he is? I know that you know where he is. He just needs me right now... he needs to come home where it's safe!"
"Damn it boy!" he murmured, hands on his face, "Ya can't help Hoover... he's beyond that. He will hurt you in the end... mark my words!"
"No, Texas. I came all the way here to find him and I'm not leaving until I do! Please help me?"
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph, God help me! -- He's workin' the stroll last I saw of him two days ago. Strung out on somethin' and hangin' with them losers again. I tried... set him up with a trick at the Sheraton and what does he do? Steals the man's wallet after all is said and done! My reputation is done tarnished now, a good customer lost, God damn it!"
My head was abuzz with information I didn't want to hear. I truly thought Texas loved Jillian in a certain way. I wanted to spit in his face for betraying him and almost did. Jillian was not perfect by any means; Texas, of all people should know that! Someone else had abandoned him, no wonder he was so fucked up. My resolve to find him intensified, I was taking him home where he belonged. Somehow we would make everything right together. I could convince Grandma to somehow take control of his well being, legally I mean! Why not? Nobody else wanted him. There had to be a way under the circumstances.
My excuse leaving the room was that I had to pee. Texas only grunted, his attention fixed on the recording of Rick, who was preparing to fuck Billy doggie style. I knew to find my jeans and shoes in the dryer, still damp but warm, I pulled them on. My shoes were sodden wet, the laces cumbersome to tie and they squeaked upon every step. Shirtless as I had entered, I made my exit, stopping to snort an irresistible line from the coffee table then deciding to take the bag, after all, Texas owed me fifty bucks; or so he claimed!
I locked my bike on a park bench and squatted at the bushes. I wanted to keep my distance from the other teens on the next corner, warned and aware that it was very territorial ground. I squinted and stared time and time looking to catch a glimpse of Jillian. Every vehicle that pulled to the side I scrutinized the boy getting out. Two hours later I was shivering from the cold and in desperation dared to make my way ahead to inquire about Jillian. Surely they knew him, I reasoned, 'birds of a feather...'
Nervously, I walked out from the cover of the bushes. At least 10 teens stood ten or fifteen feet apart on the block, all competing for the same thing I knew. Every car that drove past, the boys made suggestive sexual gestures and flashed their fingers that I guessed was a price, thirty, twenty, even as low as ten dollars! Competition must be fierce, I reasoned.
My presence was quickly noticed, four teens moved toward me and not in a friendly manner. I was immediately pushed to the sidewalk and a kick caught my right side that left me curled up in pain. Another boy was kneeling on my chest and grasping my hair.
"What ya doin' here kid? Ain't enough action to go 'round without some chicken cock homing in on our turf! -- Get the fuck outta here... ya hear me?"
"I'm not... not like that!" I plead, "My name is Jack, Jack Sprat and I'm looking..."
Even I realized how comical that was, but I dug my grave even farther by stating, "My name is jack, and I'm looking for Jill! You must know him, he's..."
"What story book did you crawl out of?" one boy said, the others broke out in hysterical laughter.
The boy holding me down said, "Well, Jack Sprat... how 'bout ya eat some fat?"
"Yea! Lets take him in the bushes," suggested another teen. "teach him not to be selling his sorry ass around here."
Right there on the sidewalk my jeans were pulled down, a shoe was lost as I was dragged by the arms over the cement, then over some gravel until the cool, wet grass seemed to ease my scrapes and burns felt from my belly to me knees. I considered offering the bag of shit for my safe release, only to realize how ridiculous that would have been. I was about to be raped again that night, wishing that I could at least snort a line to replenish the high that seemed to be losing it's magic at a rapid pace. I prayed they didn't rifle through my pants and find it.
I couldn't remember if it was Jill or Texas that said crack heads are lousy in bed because they couldn't get it up, they gave lousy head and were dead fucks. I counted my blessings after realizing that that assumption appeared to be the case. Two teens pulled down their pants, but there was no obvious menacing threat, nor could the one boy who forced me to my knees to be orally stimulated amount to anything other than his frustrated aggression.
He pushed me back to the ground and grabbed my cock producing a switch-blade knife as two other boys held me in place. The five-inch silver blade was a very real fear to me but it was the demonic expression he took on that clearly indicated he planned on using it.
"We don't take kindly to chicken dicks stealin' business around here." he whispered as I watched the blade painlessly travel from my belly button to my groin leaving a razor thin red trail in it's wake, stopping just an inch from the base of my cock. "But if the chicken dick ain't lookin' pretty anymore, ya know, scarred up and all... well then no pervert pedo-trick gonna want fillet-O-chicken dick!"
Headlights from the light vehicle traffic cast an occasional eerie brightness over the torture scene happening in plain view only yards from the street. Some merely traversing their way home, others present for illicit purposes, but they all had one thing in common; not to become involved!
It was no idle threat, he intended to mutilate my genitals and the teens holding me down only smiled on encouragingly as the knife began to inflict the circumference of my cold, shrivelled scrotum.
I started to bawl, "Please... please, I'm not a boy-hustler, I'm only here looking for my boyfriend! -- You probably know him... he's Jillian and he..."
One boy who I thought to be around 14 years old and had not participated in my abuse had only stood over me observing without expression. However, right then he gawked at me wide eyed, "Jill... as in, like... Hoover?"
"Yes, Hoover... he's my boyfriend, honest!" I tried to convince the only person who seemed interested.
Fear replaced his look of shock, he turned on his heels and ran, my hopes of even minor intervention on my behalf vanished along with the boy. I thought that perhaps he became afraid of Jillian and wanted nothing less than to be as far removed from the situation as possible.
My abuser gave instructions to have me turned over, ass propped up by my knees like a Muslim in prayer. I found out what turned him on as I felt his cock being forced through my sphincter as he carved what he claimed were his "initials" into my back. He wasn't as careful making incisions, the pain was quite intense and I screamed and cried for mercy.
At first when I heard it ever so faint I thought it was my imagination, "Jacky... Jacky... where are you?" But it was getting louder as it screamed nearer. "Jacky! It's me, I'm here, it's Jill... where are you?"
I couldn't believe my eyes when I lifted my head from the ground and saw my Knight in white Hilfiger frantically searching for signs of me from across the street. I had sudden burst of adrenalin and in a flash crawled out escaping from my unsuspecting captors.
"JILLIAN, JILLIAN!" I screamed rising to my feet only to stumble and fall having my jeans at my ankles. I gathered the waist and regained a staggered momentum hardly feeling the sharp gravel on my one shoeless foot. Tears of fright turned to tears of joy as I neared the sidewalk, our eyes locked for an instant as he got his bearings by the illumination of a passing car. He bolted across the street toward me.
A second set of headlights lit him up. His broad smile turned to a startled frown a second before the sound of screeching brakes, it was a nightmare that haunted me for a long time afterward. In slow motion Jillian's feet left his shoes as he was propelled upward, bounced off a shattering windshield and thrown like a rag-doll over the roof and onto the pavement behind!
The offending vehicle slowed then sped way. At first, I stood there frozen in disbelief and horror, but for only for a moment. The 'boys of the night' gathered around the broken and bloodied body as I held him in my arms rocking him, my neck bent back staring at the dark sky and cried an ear piercing wail like never before. I cursed God himself, Jesus Christ and all the miserable Saints I was brought up to believe that protected us from evil!
Epilogue
It had been a while since last I sat upon my rock fishing. Grandma had packed me a picnic lunch of fried chicken, potato salad and brownies that were baked fresh the prior evening. I was happy to be there again, things always seemed peaceful, tranquil, and hours passed so quickly that I always lost track of time. I had walked to the river, never having recovered my bicycle from that horrible night. His bike still lay chained outside my window, but I couldn't bare to look at it, let alone use it!
It had been three weeks by then. I had heard the cliche that "not a day goes by that...," truth is... not one hour went by that I didn't think of him. I was over the outright crying, just tears tended to flow randomly by day and saturated my pillow by night. "Time heals all," or so they say! -- I guessed not.
Grandma was my pillar as always. She cried both for me, and with me, in my many melt-downs. Sheldon, the best friend a person could ever hope to have, held me close in my bed every single night in my unbearable grief. How he managed to convince his mom of the necessity to literally move in and commute to school for so many days was beyond me, but I think Grandma laid the ground work with Shel's Grandma in that regard!
That same very tramatic night, I went for the bag of chemical solace I had my possession. Some comfort and peace of mind was most definitely justified. I retrieved it from my pocket and stared at it. I thought about everything I had shamefully done under that influence. Somehow I knew that that was what also led to Jillian's inevitable demise. I walked to the bathroom and poured the contents down the toilet!
Mostly now concealed by pubic growth, the razor thin incissions to my groin healed to a minor scar. However some many years later, the carving on my back only serves to remind me that my Knight in Shining Armor came to my aid and saved my life once again for the final time!
The End!