The Consequences of Envy on HotGuySecret
I managed to cut the lock with a rusty broken hack saw blade I found in a otherwise empty tool box in our basement. I looked over the collar and found a maker and address printed upon the back. It was some place in Columbia, SC.
‘Yep,’ I thought, Mother was right; the FBI might have been able to get an identity of the man from a past sale, since it was a specialty leather company; probably the same place he got the other leather garments, like the chaps and vest, too.
I wrote down the address, and took my mother’s nail file and abraded the address from the collar. While in her bath room I stripped and put the collar back on, looked again at myself in her full length mirror, and brushed my hair — No question; I liked what I saw, and said, ‘’you are a faggot’’.
I thought I might do a little sleuthing someday of my own.
I looped the collar upon the head board of my bed as a sort of trophy.
I returned to school Wednesday after my mother acquired new books and a jacket for me. Fortunately, no one seemed to even have missed me; though, Edmond and Alex came up during break and asked who I had driven off with in that cool sports car Friday. They told me my mother had grilled them over it, followed by an FBI guy asking questions.
I told them he was one of dad’s old friends, and he took me to meet him. Dad had come to town— It was against the divorce rules; so, she got upset. The FBI got involved because I went across the state line to Tennessee with him. ‘’He could’ve been in deep shit; but mother dropped the charges.’’ I said.
All seemed to be falling back into place,
Then a boy, a grade ahead, came up and said. ‘’Let’s go swim in ‘dead boy’s’ pool at the Days Inn after school?’’.
‘’Eww, heard he’d been floating in it a couple days.’’ Said Alex.
‘’Not me.’’ I said.
‘’Say, isn’t that where that kid drowned?’’ Edmond asked.
‘’Yea, he was a faggot too,’’ said the older boy; ‘’My brother knows some guys who went to school with him in eighth about 4 years back, at Sandy Springs High.’’
He went on;
‘’He said he was last seen then sucking dick at Piedmont park; stepped into a white van with a big guy and disappeared. He turns up drowned. Ha, ha’’
‘Small world,‘ I thought.
‘’Seriously, where at the park?‘’ I asked.
‘’Where the witches carve is, all those huge flag stones, you know — at night, fags go up there.’’ Said Alex
‘’Ha, Ha; Pat, wants to go there and suck cock.’’ Said Edmond, and they all laughed.
Actually, I did. Did mother think these guys thought me queer or did they tell her so — as the man had said? I had to defend my cover.
‘’ I would like to know where I could take Rhonda some night. It’d be fun to fuck her on a big flag stone there.’’ I said, knowing this probably wouldn’t help matters.
‘’Well, you’ll have to wait till your voice gets lower than her squeaky soprano.’’ Said Edmond, doing a ‘squeaky’ imitation.
They all roared with laughter. One would have to know Rhonda.
‘’ In the mean time though, she could fuck you, while you suck dick’’ said Alex, and poking his tongue in the side of his cheek, hunching, imitating orgasm.
I stormed away amidst more laughter.
I wanted to murder them. These guys had to be dumped as friends.
Just as the bell rang to return to classes, my name blared over the intercom.
‘’Patrick Knowles report to head Coach Conley in his office.’’
‘What could he want I wondered?’ As I walked through his door.
He was a preachy big bellied man who taught a Bible class, in addition to coaching the varsity.
‘’Please shut that door Pat, and sit down. He waved a manilla envelope.
He dumped out about a dozen 8×10 glossy black and white pictures. I shuddered as my worst fear had materialized. It was from the photo shoot.
The first was of me being pounded showing the man’s long dick entering my ass with my pouty face turned over my shoulder to the camera, followed with a pretty good synopsis of that morning, including the happy teasing one on the x cross.
‘’I like that one too’’ the coach said; as if seeing my satisfaction, of me sitting upon a table with a glistening hard-on onto my belly, my feet pulled close to my hips, that revealed my hole, in a submissive pose.
You are a special boy, and your mother and I have discussed the best course for your coping with this past week’s ordeal and your moral development. We think 50 minutes Wednesdays during your lunch hour, with individual attention is called for — as my role calls for.
‘’How did you get them? You showed these to my mom?’’ I asked.
‘’She doesn’t need to be shown these to know of your needs.’’
‘’Those were taken by a kidnapper.’’ I said
He gestured in a glacial superior way that he understood, and said,
‘’Come around the desk and let’s get started, before I send you back to class.’’
In his lap were Barbie and Ken dolls, laid upon a Bible.
‘’Has anyone told you of the ‘birds and bees’? Sit.’’
A low stool sat by his chair.
‘’I know your dad hasn’t been around for a few years; very important years for a sensitive boy as yourself.’’ He said as he fondled the dolls.
‘Did my mother get these or does the guy know coach? — And, she gave them to this idiot?’ I wondered wide eyed; and, I sat looking up at his fat belly, my mouth open in wonderment as a child might.
He handed me the Ken doll and said, ‘’pull his pants down?’’
I did, and I beheld that the doll had been adjusted with an erect penis and balls of wax. ‘A little big but not a bad scale to the doll.’ I thought.
Then he handed me the Barbie; and, he had Sharpied in a red slit for her pussy.
‘’Someday you’ll get married, as these two are, and have children and raise them, just as in your or other families. ‘The man loves his wife not simply because she’s a great friend, but for the pairing, ‘cleaving’, they do.’’
And he showed the dolls in a missionary configuration with the Barbie’s legs spread.
He pulled out another Ken doll.
‘’You have, through no fault of your own, only seen the pairing of two males, and you have been seriously misled. He positioned the two as if doing it dog style, on his desk top.
‘’Sex is to be only between a man and a woman. It’s in the Bible. And once you experience it properly with a female, your wife, as a married couple, you’ll understand how inadequate Ken with Ken is, — or even fornicating with many women is, as so many movies would have young boys as you believe ,’’ he said.
He waved the floppy big black leather bound book in front of me, as if I might get a whiff of its truth.
‘’Yea, dad told me about that’’ I said. ‘and, yet, dad, is still a fag.’ I thought.
He tossed me a; t-shirt, some shorts, a jock, and told me to dress out before coming next time. He planned to have me do some exercises.
I returned to class.
———
My mother took on a defensive air when I confronted her of Coach Conley’s involvement when school let out.
‘’The pictures came in this morning’s mail here at Pace in my in-box. After looking at one, it was just too much for me; knowing what that man had pictured doing to you.
It’s just I felt you need some male guidance after your ordeal.’’
She explained;
‘’Mr. Conley offered to help when we discussed your abduction last week— when I asked for some days off; to negotiate with your abductor. I had to talk with someone Pat.’’
Mother went on;
’’Coach Conley said it was important with what happened to you, not to let what happened to get hidden, or sublimated; as, it’d cause you to have a neuroses; and, though the pictures are a horrible reminder of your ordeal, in a way, they are a way to heal too, he told me.’’
‘Or, remind me I’m still a faggot up for grabs’ I thought.
She went on;
‘’I was shocked the abductor would still stay in touch after your escape. Did Mr. Conley show them all to you? I still haven’t told the FBI of them.’’ she said.
‘’ Don’t. Forget the FBI; just get them all back, from Coach ‘Freud’ Mom; today, now.’’ I demanded.
Mom philosophized;
‘’The man likely sent them to show that he thinks he is in control of you — not sure he knows the FBI is, and was involved already, either, but guess he wants us to think ya’ll are good together — or, that he’s not the monster society would think. He’s going to be sorry though.’’ She reasoned.
‘’He’s sending me a message, I think if anything, that says he could be way more a monster, and knows where to find me,’’ I said.
‘One thing was certain; the FBI hadn’t arrested him yet.’ I thought.
When I got home I put on the exercise uniform Coach Conley had given me. The shorts and tank top were the school color of red and white, and the gym shorts had a little inside pocket I could put cards or coins. They were tight and wondered if Coach Conley had intended that.
‘What could be more perfect than to wear this to the park for a good run,’ I thought.
I jogged up to Peachtree Street and took the 23 Oglethorpe bus to14th and walked over to the park.
‘This is my very first venture to find sex with another guy,’ I thought; and, then I thought of Stu’s prediction.
‘Well, where are all the faggots?’
I walked to the ‘Witches Cave’.
It’s a Roman arch of rustic lime stone work, inset in a mound of earth or a small hill with the approach similar to a bunker, amidst oak trees, not really a cave, perhaps ten feet deep, where a bench of granite rests, for those who stroll and want perhaps a minimal amount of privacy, where a kiss might be stolen, without onlookers aghast, or a spot where one might step out of an unexpected shower; but hardly a lair for perverts; and the area is paved with huge flag stones, that lead to a trail which in turn ends at the huge pavilion and open air Greek style amphi-theater, where pink marble is liberally used, and fashioned in huge tear drop shapes as the marble flows to various end points, to adorn as the finials of low granite knee walls.
I couldn’t imagine homosexuals could get away with their activities there, even at night. The area was empty of people as I wandered about.
I walked back to Peachtree street and considered going to the High Museum, since gays like art, I figured. It was free too; and I liked art.
As I stood and pondered my options, a platinum blond bearded man in his twenties, of about 6 feet, in an open black leather jacket, with a white t-shirt and blue jeans, wearing black work boots ran across the busy street to my corner at the bus stop.
‘’Hello boy,’’ the man said as he walked past me. I turned to look, and he said, ‘’You are either out growing that athletic suit, or strutting your stuff.’’ He said with a broad smile.
I was embarrassed and looked away, toward downtown where a bus might come.
I shouldn’t have looked at him when he called me ‘boy,’ I thought; back in my ‘straight personal defense mode’ — that seemed now tied to geographic locations.
He walked back to where I stood, He leaned toward me and said; ‘’Wanna shoot some pocket billiards/‘’ and waved toward a pool room with neon sign beer sign, and a wink of his eye.
I looked again at his face. He didn’t look to be what I’d always thought to be queer, and I classified his dress as that of a motorcycle guy, hood or bully; though now he could very well exist among the group I sought.
I decided to converse with him as a possible sex partner, as I thought,’neither had any of those who’d recently fucked me, looked queer either.’
I told him ‘’I don’t have enough money; plus, don’t think I’m old enough to go in,’’ looking at the neon Bud beer sign.
‘’It’s fine, as games are only 15 cents there and I’m good for a few; so, com’ on; I’ll even buy you a beer if you don’t have your ID card.’’ he said.
‘’My name is Jake’’ he said, and we shook hands and did some small talk as we walked to the pool hall.
He worked construction as a laborer he told me, but, clearly knew the people in the pool hall too, as they exchanged words upon entry.
We chose a table, got pool sticks to shoot, and a dwarf fellow, who was called ‘HowDo’ by the others, racked the balls. We played eight ball while HowDo chatted with us.
Jake asked what I was doing at the park, and I told them I was checking out the ‘witch’s cave’ I’d heard about. Without going into detail of its reputation as a gay meeting spot; and I pointed out the general configuration of the place along a strolling path, and told them I admired the pink marble knowing it was the queer factor he would know about and if queer I assumed he’d play his hand.
The dwarf, called How-Do, asked if I saw any witches — and, he then asked if I were one.
I said, ‘’witches are women. Do I look like a girl?,’’ and, I began to utter an insult, ‘You don’t look like Wilt Chamberlain’ but thought better of it.’’
He then walked to my face, flipped the pool Q stick between my thighs; then, boldly with broad grin, jutted chin, and cigarette pointed up, saying effectively I’d given him this right to invade my personal space. said; ‘‘fly this, BITCH.’’
Jake, picked up on the little rogue’s aggression, and grasped the other end of the pool stick; and they both lifted, such that the pole wedged between my ass crack — and, they laughed at my off balance predicament. I grasped the pole trying to balance, confused of the abrupt change in activity, but knew where it was going.
I laughed with some hesitation, saying ‘’fellas what are ya doing/‘’ knowing I’d invited it.
It was obvious their interest was sexual — as mine was too; yet, I wasn’t sure I was ready to green light their aggressive sexual interest. I was surprised it’d been so easily ignited; that, I’d laid the ground work for it with a mere comment. But it was too late to halt it now I figured. The short short snug gym pants Conley had given me that I wore pushed up by the stick, by these unabashedly fiendish men got me aroused too, as they slid the varnished stick back and forth with unvarnished devilish grins along my fleshy crotch.
My dick and balls were squeezed out of the tight crotch fit of the gym shorts, and shown as if little shiny, inflated, toy balloons against the red cotton fabric strangling them.
Another guy at the bar also came around front seeing the play his friends had started. He went to the front door and locked it; scrolled down the blind and joined us; unbuckling his belt. I was off balance on tip toes, or off the ground entirely, as they rocked the pool stick up and down.
‘’You can balance well, so you probably could fly a broom. But the ‘witches cave’ is for queers. We love queers; and it looks like we’ve found one; huh, Jake?’’ said HowDo.
They noted my genitals with growing erect penis and HowDo moved in, without lowering his stick, to lick at my crotch. He rested the pool stick on his shoulder as jJake still lifted the other end; so, as to keep me off balance; short as he was. He maneuvered such, as I felt his scratchy chin and cheeks, and then wet tongue, lapping furiously at my dick.
Jake grasped me from behind under my arm pits just at that lechery, pulled me away, and he sat me upon the pool table. How Do took my white tennis shoes and socks off. Jake grasped my gym short’s and pulled them off in one easy motion — though I did help by, lifting my ass, straightening my legs, and pointed toes for him; and the bar man then lifted my tank top off, as I raised my arms to assist him.
To my mind this was wonderful. Naked and vulnerable to total strangers who wanted sex with me.