Monday was the beginning of the last week of school for seniors although, technically, we had two more weeks to go. This week, we’d have exams Monday and Tuesday, have a half-day field day Wednesday, which we would all have skipped except ‘roll will be taken’ was made very clear. We would go to homeroom for roll check at 9:00 and then most of us would hang out on the sidelines of the athletic fields watching the jocks -- male and female -- display their last high school jockness. At noon, there would be hot dogs and hamburgers, then a final roll check and grade reports, i.e., find out whether or not we’d be graduating. Thursday and Friday morning there would be rehearsals of the graduation ceremony, after which last-chance, make-up exams would be given to all who needed them. Of course, the Clan, new and old, certainly knew we’d all graduate, so we’d not need make-up exams.
Seniors were planning all sorts of things Thursday and/or Friday afternoon of this week after graduation rehearsals, most involving alcohol and who knows what else. Seems seniors never wise up and as a result of some of those activities, every year, there are some who are not allowed to participate in graduation, i.e., not allowed to walk. More parents than I care to imagine, could care less how their son or daughter did in school so long as they walked across the stage and received their diploma amid hoots, whistles and shouts as though graduation was a sports contest. Usually it was sons and daughters of such who screwed up and were told they could not walk. That, of course, meant school officials, every year, had angry parents they had never seen -- except when their children were having discipline problems -- storming the office and making all sorts of threats demanding their outstanding and upright sons and daughters be allowed to walk. Give me a break!
The second week was for post-secondary school visits, but no-one did any as that was already behind us. Most who were taking jobs immediately after high school would use the week as a “pre-work vacation.” The Clan had not really discussed what we would do -- if together or separately.
When we arrived at school Monday, the Gang of Three -- the three’s five-day suspension long gone -- were out in full force with their crowd. They had been joined by Bull and Skinny. Seems those two had several Mud Creek thugs and their girlfriends gathered around a shiny, new tricked-out pickup, obviously Bull’s. I then noticed K.J. had a new truck as well. “Must have struck oil in Mud Creek,” I said to Justin, nodding toward the new vehicles.
“Looks like it,” he replied.
Justin and I were walking toward the school entrance and, without thinking, holding hands. I was surprised when I realized it and that we had not had the usual taunts. All the assorted thugs did was point and laugh. Finally K.J. shouted, “Look at the cocksucking thieves and drug dealers,” pointing at us.
I was going to just ignore that when Justin asked, puzzled, “How would he know about that?”
“The stolen stuff and drugs in the storage unit.”
“Oh.” After a moment’s thought I said, “His dad’s a hunting buddy of Chief’s, maybe he told them.”
“But Chief wasn’t with us when we went to the storage unit. Do you think Sheriff Anderson reported to the chief? I don’t think so.” I agreed. “Think we need to let the sheriff know about this.” Again, I agreed.
The day lasted forever since we really had nothing to do in AP classes and the exams in the others were definitely geared to students who were barely squeaking by. None took me more than fifteen-twenty minutes and I had almost an hour and a half then to twiddle my thumbs. I asked permission to go to the library, but was told the library was closed and would be closed until next school year. Tomorrow I’d bring a book to read.
We were finally told that as soon as we finished our last period exam, we were free to go. Justin and I headed for the Sheriff’s office. Michael was leaving his truck for Sandy and going with Susan, John and Bobbie to the marina and fun on John’s boat. Adam was headed for work. I hated to leave him by himself, but Sheriff Anderson had said Justin and I should stay away from Sanford Furniture.
When we arrived at the courthouse, we walked in the back way, by the jail. As we passed by, I noticed Johnny Oxford’s dad in a cell. The Oxfords were a well-respected family in town -- Mr. Oxford was manager of Fresh Market, by far the best grocery in town, and a big member of Church of Christ. “What is he doing in jail?” I wondered.
When we reached the sheriff’s department, Ellen Mae, general in charge of all things constabulary, including the sheriff, said, “Hi, Marc, Justin. Welcome to the madhouse. Things are really crazy around here today.”
Everyone in the county knew Ellen Mae. She had been in the sheriff’s department since before God was born -- and looked it. She had been a deputy for years and years and finally decided she’d had enough, came in and took over the office. She saw as her main responsibility, Clarisa said, making sure everyone knew everyone else’s business. Thought I’d take advantage of that and said, “Saw Mr. Oxford in a cell downstairs.”
“Up to me, we’d just put him under the jail and forget him. That ass Leonard Carnes, too. Don’t know what got into them. Threw their sons out on the street last night. Mr. Oxford put his in the hospital before he kicked him out. Deputy Smithfield found him lying in the ditch outside their house. What kind of father puts his child out or, worse, beats him then throws him out on the street?”
Thinking of Sandy, Justin muttered, “Maybe a Jenkins kind.” Ellen Mae didn’t hear him and I didn’t respond.
“Damn assholes, pardon my French, that’s who. I mean, you know the two boys... fine young men they are growing into, not two rapscallions, druggies or something... fine boys. Not only that, there were three major domestic dispute calls, which went on and on, and a three-car wreck out on US 158, all we needed was two young men being tossed out of their homes. Well, not your worry. Jakie said for you to come on in as soon as you got here.” His mother and Ellen Mae were, I am positive, the only two people in the whole world who called Sheriff Anderson Jakie.
When we walked into the sheriff’s office, he was on the phone and motioned for us to take a seat. “I’ll see what I can do, but make no promises Mrs. Oxford. Talk to you when I find out something.”
As he hung up the phone, I said, “Ellen Mae told us Mr. Oxford and Mr. Carnes put John and Jack out last night.”
“Damn, don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. Maybe you guys can help. Talking out of school, but Mr. Oxford caught Johnny and Jack in bed together -- well, Jack was staying over so that wasn’t the problem. It was what they were doing... ah...” Sheriff Anderson actually blushed!
Justin and I both laughed and I said, “We can imagine.”
“Well, it wasn’t THAT,” he blushed again. “I mean, they were just naked and kissing, I guess really kissing.”
“Johnny’s in the hospital?” Justin asked.
“Probably will be released in the morning. He had a broken rib or two, lot of contusions -- including a black eye -- and some lacerations on his body from being kicked, and at least a minor concussion. The doctor wants to keep him another twelve hours at least to make sure his concussion is only a minor one although, we're finding out, even minor ones aren't so minor in the long run. That’s what Mrs. Oxford called about. She wants John released so he and Johnny can work on Johnny’s problem. Not going to happen without a hearing and Johnny might be released to DSS custody* -- a fate I’d wish on no kid, truth be known, unless other arrangements can be made. Hope -- know -- you guys will help the two boys anyway you can.”
“We will,” I said. “Man, we were fortunate we had no problems from family when we came out. Can’t imagine a parent beating up a child for any reason and especially for simply being who they are and doing what couples do.”
“But it's not like we haven't seen it before,” Justin reminded me. “Sandy was in worse shape, courtesy of his father.”
“If you can call such a man a father,” I said, nodding in agreement,
“Ditto,” the sheriff said, “but you have your own problems. We may have a break. Old man Ledbetter just revamped his security system a week before unit nineteen was rented. The fancy digital gate control records when and which code is punched in each time the gate opens, so there will be a record of each time the code for nineteen was put in.
“Called the security company and learned they worked out the security plan, including placement of the cameras. One of them couldn’t be better placed to cover unit nineteen. I also learned, from them, Ledbetter wanted a couple re-aimed, but when told there would be an extra charge and the protection policy would have to be modified or the cost would increase, left them aimed as the company proposed. I confiscated all the surveillance tapes from the week before the unit was rented until yesterday. We had such a busy night I haven’t had time to look at them yet. You two want to watch the videos with me? No-one need know and I’ll be right here, should there be a question about chain of evidence and letting suspects watch. I want to find out what’s going on soon, like yesterday, not only to see if we can catch those responsible, but also to clear your names. Up to a boring TV show?”
“Aren’t they all?” Justin responded. “You watch TV?”
Sheriff Anderson grinned and said, “Not much, but I don’t miss an episode of Top Chef. Got my recorder set up to record it so I am sure I’ll not miss any of it.”
“Marc won’t miss Make Me a Supermodel.”
“And who is sitting beside me, drooling over the hot guys?” I asked and laughed.
“On the one hand, pretty dull show coming up, I suspect, but on the other hand, it may be very exciting,” the sheriff said and pointed to two chairs and motioned for us to pull them up beside one he placed in front of a video player. “Notice anything, give me a shout,” he said as he started the tape. “This is the April fifteenth tape,” he said. “According to the gate record, the code for unit nineteen was used at just after midnight on the fifteenth.”
The video played back at sixteen times the speed it was recorded. When the time indicated raced past nine pm, the sheriff slowed it down by half. Nothing was happening, then the screen went blank. Sheriff Anderson said, “Looks like we got nothing, which is something. I’ll rewind and slow it down.” Justin and I were hanging over the sheriff’s shoulder when he started the video again, this time at only four times the recording speed. At thirty minutes after midnight on April fifteenth, the video went blank. At three minutes until one, it was back on. “Fluke or something going on?” the sheriff asked. “Back to the grind and maybe we’ll find out.”
He started the April twenty-second tape. At twelve forty-five, the tape went blank; one fifteen it was back. “Wednesday night around midnight on two videos. Can’t be a coincidence can it?” the sheriff asked.
“Hardly think so,” Justin said as the sheriff put the April twenty-ninth tape in the machine. A moment later, he said, “Twelve ten, blank, twelve thirty-five, back on.” May sixth the tape went blank at twelve fifty-four and back on at one thirty. The May thirteenth tape was started and fast-forwarded to eleven, then slowed down. “Twelve and no blank, the camera's still on,” I said and then saw movement. The sheriff slowed the playback to only twice the recording speed and said, “Bingo!” at one o’clock when a Sanford Furniture truck pulled up to unit nineteen and two guys jumped out. He rewound the tape and said, “OK, we got people at unit nineteen.”
Justin and I were leaning over the sheriff as he restarted the video at half its recorded speed. As the video ran, we watched as a Sanford Furniture truck pulled up in front of unit nineteen and two guys hopped out. They opened the unit and started carrying stuff from the truck into the unit. Both were wearing hoodies, so their faces were not clear enough to identify.
“Look, they are not getting stuff from inside the truck, someone is handing it to them,” I said, “So there are three, at least, involved.”
“There goes the pot,” Justin noted.
“And the meth,” the sheriff added. “I remember it was in a Tide detergent box. But who are they?”
Just as he spoke, one of the guys who had been carrying stuff into the unit, took out a handkerchief and started wiping his face. He pushed back his hood to wipe his forehead and as he did, Justin shouted, “Bull! It’s Bull.” A guy jumped from the back of the truck, no hoodie! “Thank you, Jesus!” Justin said. “It’s Skinny.”
As if answering prayers, Bull handed his handkerchief to the other guy who had been taking stuff into the unit. He turned, full face to the camera, and wiped his face, then pushed his hoodie back to wipe the top of his head. “K.J. accounted for,” I said with a relieved laugh.
“Wait,” the sheriff said, “there’s someone else getting out of the back of the truck.” He, too, was not wearing a hoodie and had his hands full of beer. He passed the bottles around and turned and toasted the camera, laughing.
“Hail, hail, the gang’s all here,” Justin sang. “Ox has arrived.”
“What’s with toasting the camera?” I asked.
“Rubbing it in,” Justin said. “Remember, the camera is supposed to be off.”
“Now we know why K.J. and the gang made that comment as we walked into school,” Justin said. The sheriff looked puzzled.
Justin explained. As he did so, a thought occurred to me. “I don’t know what the connection might be -- maybe none -- but there were two new trucks in the parking lot at school today. Both Bull and K.J. have shiny, new, tricked-out trucks.” Another thought occurred. “You know something else? There’s someone else involved,” I said, when I realized the four could not control the camera. “Someone has to turn the camera on and off.”
“You’re right. You two keep your mouths shut. Not a word to anyone, even pillow talk, OK? The fact that the camera was on will be our secret for the time being,” the sheriff said as he locked the tapes in his safe. We nodded. “I’m on my way to see Ledbetter right now and find out who’s in charge of that camera,” Sheriff Anderson said, picking up his hat and heading for the door. As we walked out, he said, “Ellen Mae. I've locked my office and no-one, but NO-ONE is to go in there. I’m gone.”
Two very relieved young men left the office and headed home. About half-way there, Justin took out his cell and called home. “Clarisa, Justin. We’re finished for the day and until this mess is cleaned up, we’re not going to the stores. Late supper for us. We’re headed for the open seas... Yeah, you’re our precious one, Chocolate Mama. Bye.” While Justin was talking, I had turned the car around and we headed for the marina.
“Our precious one?” I asked as Justin closed the cell phone.
Justin chuckled. “Yeah. Clarisa said, ‘You be careful. Can't have anything happening to my precious ones.’”
Twenty-five minutes after we reached the marina, the boat was ready and we set sail. Half an hour later, we were anchored in what we now called our cove, both naked and in each other’s arms. Once again we were standing and as a swell hit the boat, we both struggled to remain standing. I expected us to toss cushions to the deck and go at it, but Justin suddenly grabbed me, tossed me over his shoulder and headed below. Lookfar -- named for Ged’s boat in The Wizard of Earthsea -- had a small but extremely well-designed cabin. It took about two minutes for the seating area to become a very comfortable bed, large enough to make a great playpen for two men in love.
As soon as the transformation was complete, we fell into bed. With a special Justin wicked grin, my lover grabbed me and crushed my body to his, his mouth against mine. Mouths open and tongues busy, our kisses grew hotter. We both were responding to our own passion and that of our lover, as Justin's hard cock pressing against mine made very obvious. I lay atop his hot body, kissing his face, his neck, nibbling on his ears as he cupped my butt in his hands.
I rolled off of Justin and, as we lay side-by-side, freed his long silky black hair from the leather thong which had bound it while we continued to exchange hot kisses. We finally broke a long, passionate kiss and lay gazing into each other’s eyes. Slowly Justin eased his hands up my body, reaching my hard nipples and drawing circles around them with his fingertips. He rolled me on my back and covered my body with his, then leaned forward and began flicking my nipples with his tongue, raising one of my arms above my head and licking my armpit. Justin knew that was a very special place on my body. He always accused me of being hot-to-trot, but he had to share in the blame, if there was any, because he sure knew where my hot buttons were -- any or all of which got me dripping precum in nanoseconds. Licking an armpit was one of the surest, quickest-acting of those!
Of course, I was not letting him get by with just getting me hot. I slipped further under him as he continued with his tongue, slipped a finger between his cheeks and fingered his ass. Precum was dripping from his hard, beautiful, uncut cock as well.
Justin kissed me deeply, did the famous Justin flip and we were laying beside each other, delighting in the taste and feel of our cocks as we covered them with our mouths. I knew I couldn’t continue long or I would explode in Justin’s mouth, and as much as he loved that -- as did I -- I wasn’t ready to bring our love-making to a climax just yet. I was sure Justin felt the same and, sure enough, he groaned and said, “Babe, hold back, can you?” In response, I let his manhood slip from my mouth. I crawled around until we just lay side-by-side, exchanging butterfly kisses and exploring with our hands the body we loved. Once again, butterfly kisses became more love-filled, more lust-filled, more passionate and mouths sought cocks. This time neither of us called a halt and mouths filled with the sweet taste of lover’s cum.
We had not had a very good night’s sleep last night, both worried about the outcome of being accused of being thieves and drug dealers. It was not surprising that -- after, temporarily at least, being sexually sated -- we fell to sleep wrapped in our lover’s arms.
Half an hour later, I opened my eyes to the sight I hoped to see every time I awoke from sleep: Justin’s beautiful, dark body lying next to me. I raised up on my elbow, rested my head in my hand and drank in his beauty. Yes, he was beautiful with a powerful, cut body. After he started working in the store and was not doing the hard labor of delivery, he decided he couldn’t keep in shape without exercise. We combed yard sales and picked up “gently used” equipment -- some still in its original box -- and had quite a gym in the basement now. Five days a week, Justin made time for a workout. He aimed for the lean, cut look of a swimmer and had achieved it and was keeping it. He was a lot more disciplined than I, but I was certainly not ashamed of my body these days either.
I could resist no longer and leaned over and kissed his lips softly. When I raised up, I watched as that Justin smile, which always set my heart to thumping, spread across his face before his Indian eyes slowly opened. “I love you, Lord of my Heart,” he said then pulled my lips to his for a true butterfly kiss. That led to more kisses -- we are both much into kissing. As often happens, kisses led to pleasuring each other with our mouths and tongues. Justin, again, lifted my arms over my head and began licking armpit to nipple to nipple to armpit and back again. Our hard cocks were between us and I could feel both pulsing with our heartbeats.
I wrestled Justin to his back and licked down his body, stopping at his belly button and using my tongue to play with it. I finally reached his manhood and took it in my mouth. I intended to just pleasure Justin, but he had other ideas and soon he was kneeling over me, my cock engulfed in his hot mouth. His, of course, was in mine. It took little maneuvering for me to reach between the cheeks of his bubble butt and start fingering that heavenly place between his ass cheeks.
Justin paused in his pleasuring my cock and balls long enough to reach the lube -- we made sure the boat was well-supplied and in convenient locations -- and handed it to me. He needed to say nothing. I lubed his hole, slipped in one, then two, then three fingers. Removing my fingers, I lubed my cock as Justin turned to face me. When he was ready, he lowered himself on my hard manhood and began slowly raising and lowering himself on it. While we both had reached a powerful climax only half an hour ago, we knew we couldn't last long with him riding my cock, so we changed positions several times and often just rested with my cock deep in him to prolong our love-making. Finally, with Justin on his back so we could see each other's face, I pounded into him until I reached that point where I could not stop the rush which hit my body. I shot surge after surge of man juice into my lover as Justin shot his seed between us. Once again, I blacked out for a moment as the thundering orgasm hit my body, sending me into perfect bliss. When I came back to our world, Justin was still having spasms, as he often did when he reached his climax.
I had read several debates about the pleasure a receiver gets from having a dick in his ass. A lot of people complained because their bottom’s cock was soft while being fucked, indicating, so they argued, they are just enduring, not enjoying. Well, Justin was never soft when I was inside him and most assuredly got off as quickly receiving as I did giving. As a matter of fact, more often than not, the first burst of his cum would set off my orgasm. In short, we usually came at about the same time. Maybe, for us, that was because we were making love, not just fucking.
I lay gently on Justin’s body, my head in the crook of his neck until my softened cock slipped from inside him. Then, as I lay beside him, gazing into those wonderful black eyes, I felt my love for this beautiful man swell until it occupied my total being. “God, Justin, I love you so much. Every day I think I couldn’t possibly love you more, then I do. If I live to be a thousand, I know I will love you more each day.”
Recalling what my father had said about him, Justin asked, “Even if I am a queer Indian faggott?” He smiled a beautiful Justin smile and I got weak for love of him.
“This queer white-man faggot has a real weak spot for queer Indian faggots, at least for one very special, very beautiful queer Indian faggott,” I responded. Sated for the moment, we lay in each other’s arms, exchanging the softest of butterfly kisses, smiling at each other, knowing we had learned one of the secrets of the universe -- the power of true love.
* Department of Social Services, which is supposedly responsible for the welfare of children in bad situations -- child abuse, children in danger, etc. While there are certainly some caring individuals in the bureaucracy, overall it is known to be an inefficient and bungling agency in many -- perhaps most -- situations. A therapist friend has labeled it and equivalent agencies in other states in the US, together with foster parents who take children seized by DSS, “the largest child abusers in the nation.” Yet in most states and counties in the state, it continues to act as a law unto itself with little oversight and little regard to the laws which supposedly govern it.