319 Winesap Lane - 24. Chapter 24 - Jerry Comes Back, Part 2

Jerry’s POV

I awoke in an uncertain state. My nose hurt like hell and my head didn’t feel much better. Slowly, I became aware of a cold sensation on my nose and forehead. I opened my eyes to see Steve staring down at me.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “You fainted and fell on your face. Your nose is still bleeding and Billy has gone for Mrs. Campbell.”

I nodded to indicate my understanding, but I felt a sharp pain in my head when I did that. I looked around as much as my eye could move without needing to move my head and saw that I was in a jungle with lianas draped over tropical trees. I looked to my left side and saw a line of leaf cutter ants moving toward a distant point where there they became lost in the undercover of the jungle. I shut my eyes hoping to adjust my vision to something closer to the reality of 319 Winesap Lane, Warnton, NY.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked worriedly.

“Yes, I was hallucinating and I need to refocus my mind on the reality of where I am,” I said. “Where exactly am I.”

“You’re in the kitchen, on the floor,” Steve said. “Where did you think you were?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “If I look to my left, what will I see?”

“Um, let me see, your left is my right,” Steve said. “You would see the cabinets where we store the cookie sheets, casserole dishes, and steel bowls we use to make salads and pasta.”

“How do you feel?” a voice asked. “Is there anything we can do for you?”

“Who are you; I don’t recognize your voice?” I asked.

“I’m Wally; I’ve come to interview to be an attendant here at the house, to assist Dr. Johnson,”

“Are you a social worker?” I asked.

“I’m working on my master’s degree at the University of Rochester,” he said.

“Glad to meet you, Wally,” I said. “I used to help out around here, but I was shot in the head and I’m not much use anymore. I’m thinking of going to Columbia in the fall. What are you doing in the house without supervision?”

“Oh, yes, well, you see this little boy and your blind resident let me in.”

“That’s not right,” I said as I tried to get up, but an excruciating pain shot through my head forcing me to collapse back onto the pillow.

“Steady on Jerry. You just stay put until that Mrs. Campbell gets here or Dr. Johnson returns from the grocery store,” Wally said.

“But you’re not authorized in the house, yet,” I said.

“No, but someone has to take control and that’s what I’ve done.”

I lay there staring into the limited light filtering through my eyelid and wondered who this Wally person was. I only knew one Wally in my life and that was Wally Cleaver, but he was a fictional character on TV. I looked into my mind, but the pains in my head and nose made it hard to concentrate on the reality of this Wally person leaning over me.

Then I realized I was thinking real thoughts not to be confused with my usual irrational trains of thought. It was an unusual feeling I hadn’t experienced since being shot in my head and brain. I was having a vague hallucination of being able to see out of my right eye, which I knew was impossible since I had lost all vision in that eye from the first bullet in my head. Then I realized I had moved my head slightly from the impact of the bullet which caused the next bullet to traverse the underside of my frontal lobe before blowing out a sizable portion of my skull. At that point, I again felt the traverse of the bullet and screamed.

“What’s happening?” I heard, not knowing who was speaking.

“I don’t know; this has never happened before,” another voice said.

I opened my eyes and stared up into Wally’s questioning eyes. Obviously, he had never seen someone re-experiencing a violent action upon their body. I felt myself feeling a sensation of empathy toward him. He was trying, but I was totally out of his league. I shut my eyes and thought of Clarence, which gave me the sensation that I was getting an erection. It was understandable, of course, because Clarence was a very acceptable fuck, which I was looking forward to tomorrow night. I opened my eyes and saw Wally staring down at me. I asked, “So, Wally, how am I doing?”

“We’ve stopping the bleeding from your nose and the bump on your forehead doesn’t look too bad, but we’re still waiting for that Mrs. Campbell person or Dr. Johnson,” Wally said. “Who is Mrs. Campbell?”

“Oh, she’s our next-door neighbor, who helps out when Geoff isn’t here,” I said.

“Who is Geoff?” he asked.

“Oh, that’s Dr. Johnson; many of us refer to him as Geoff.”

“That’s not right.”

“Well, you see we’re not your average foster home. Do you have a problem with gays?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“Well, Wally, you see Dr. Johnson, myself, Erik, Jamie, and Billy are gay. Steve is only nine years old, so he’s too young to have an established sexuality, I suppose, but he was sexually abused by his brother so we have to be careful not to accept any sexual advances he may offer when he’s too young to realize what he’s doing. If you work here, you’re going to have to take all of that into consideration.”

“Oh dear, I wasn’t told about that,” Wally said as he sat back on his haunches.

“Do you have a problem with this?” I asked.

“Well, no not really, but I suppose I’ll have to consider it if I’m going to work here.”

“Jerry, are you okay?”

“Yes, Erik, I think I’m doing alright,” I said.

“His nose doesn’t look to good,” Jamie said. “It looks like he smashed it into the floor.”

“Should we call 9-1-1?” Billy asked.

“He really should get his nose set,” Jamie said.

“Okay, guys, call for the aid car,” I said.

* * *

I lay there in the kitchen waiting for the aid car to arrive. I knew something was different in my brain, but I didn’t know how to describe it to anyone else, especially an emergency room doctor or for that matter a neurologist. I was Jerrold Alexander Peterson the Fourth, raised fundamentalist Lutheran to be an apple horticulturist as my forefathers had been. Although I dated girls in junior and senior high school, I had always been attracted to boys and, therefore, was a homosexual, or gay in modern parlance, which was foreign to my traditional farming community in Michigan. I had been shot twice in the head: the first bullet traversed the lower section of the cranial cavity before exiting through my right eye socket; the second bullet traversed the lower frontal lobe of my brain before bursting out the right side of my skull. I was lucky to be alive. And, now, after an innumerable period of time had I finally become sane again from a simple bump on my forehead?

After a while I heard the siren of the aid car and consciously began to relax myself to the inevitable questions I was going to be asked by the med-techs. But, at the same time my mind steeled itself against the unavoidable questions I would be asked in relation to my two bullet wounds in my head. How could I remain sane when these medicos would be asking me questions that no longer mattered? I was, knowingly, quite sane comparably to my state only hours ago. How could I impress upon them that I was okay and not the usual blithering idiot they were used to encountering whenever they came to 319 Winesap Lane?

I didn’t know what to do so I thought of being with Clarence tomorrow night. We were certainly going to be smoking some weed, but would he offer me some LSD knowing what had occurred on my first trip? Of course, most of my troubles were caused by Barry trying to force his cock in my mouth, which had previously been in my ass and the thought of tasting my shit on it disgusted me. I continued to ponder having an LSD trip with Clarence and decided I would accept it if he offered.

I liked Clarence. His cock wasn’t all that remarkable, but his come had an unusual flavor to it, something I couldn’t quite place. I’d read that come usually took on the flavors of the foods a guy ate: someone like a Japanese who ate lots of fish would have fishy tasting come; a man from the Mediterranean countries would have a garlic taste to his come; a man from the U.S. of Northern European ancestry would generally have come that tasted somewhat bland because milk didn’t have much in the way of flavor notes; while a man who smoked cigarettes or cigars would have come that was tinged with the taste of tobacco. Clarence’s come didn’t have any of those flavors, so I didn’t have any idea of his diet or inhalation habits. He wasn’t necessarily an enigma because I was certain at some point I would figure out what he was eating or smoking, but it was a challenge to my previously insane mind. Now that I was sane—or, at least, as sane as I thought I was—I figured at some point in our relationship I would determine what Clarence was putting in his mouth to make his come taste the way it did.

“Hello; are you awake?” a voice over me asked.

I opened my eyes and looked up into a somewhat officious face. I said, “I’m awake.”

“What drugs did you take?” the person over me asked.

“What do you mean, what drugs did I take?” I asked, wondering where this line of questioning was going.

“The last time I dealt with you, you had taken LSD laced with alcohol. So, tell me, what did you take this time?”

“I didn’t take anything. I fainted.”

“Uh, huh; Georgette go get the back board. Who’s in charge here?”

“I guess I am until the adult responsible for this house arrives,” Wally said.

“And, you are?”

“Walter Bancroft; I came here to interview for an opening in the administration of this foster home.”

“Uh, huh; so, there aren’t any adults here.”

“Other than me no, but we’ve asked the next-door neighbor to come over until the owner of the home returns.”

“Uh, huh; well, we’ll take care of this situation,” the medic said as he took his radio off his belt. “Central, this is EMT Larson out of Station 14, we have a foster home without adult supervision here. Request a referral to Wayne County Department of Social Services. Yes, that’s right. We’re going to be transporting a possible OD to Newark, but in the meantime, we need supervision of a county deputy to cover this home.”

I listened to this obvious incorrect presumption of the situation here at 319 Winesap Lane, but there was little I could do being the victim of an unfortunate brain anomaly, which I now recognized as being a false response to the reality of the situation. What else I could do but lay there as the medic made an incorrect representation of the situation. He was assuming that I had had a drug reaction that wasn’t in reality true, but he didn’t know that and was assuming I was on drugs based on his previous experience with me. I wanted to interject my evidence, but I was certain he wouldn’t accept whatever I said. There was only one thing I could do and that was to stay silent.

The ambulance ride to Newark was unusually long because it was obvious they weren’t using the siren or the flashing lights. They assumed I was an OD and therefore didn’t warrant an emergency trip. Strangely both medics sat in the front seats, leaving me alone on the stretcher in the back. Obviously, the medic named Larson was taking this assumption that I had taken some drugs and therefore presumed I didn’t need any extraordinary care on the way to the hospital.

Eventually, we arrived at our destination and the aid car backed into the receiving bay at the emergency room. The medics hauled me out and pushed me into the hospital. I was taken into an exam area and the hospital nurses and med-techs took over. They promptly set about cutting my clothes off my body while I stared at the ceiling. I figured they would eventually figure out everything that had happened since the aid car picked me up at 319 Winesap Lane had been totally fictional, but I had to bide my time until they could be convinced in the error was their ways.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Rafferty, I’m the duty physician in the emergency room and you are?”

“Jerry Peterson from Warnton,” I said.

“Jerry, what did you take?”

“Nothing, I fainted, smashed my nose, and hit my forehead on the floor.”

“Will you give us permission to take a blood sample to check for drugs?”

“Fine, but I haven’t taken any drugs other than my mood stabilizer and antipsychotics.”

“Are you under the care of a local psychiatrist?”

“Dr. Avianca at the University of Rochester Medical Center.”

“Why are you here?”

“The people at the foster home where I work called for an aid car because I fainted and smashed my face into the floor,” I said, purposely leaving out that there wasn’t an adult to make the call. I figured the less the emergency room people knew the better.

“Well, we’ll set your nose, but we’re still concerned about the drugs you took,” Dr. Rafferty said. “You know, of course, if we find drugs in your blood, we’ll have to report it to the police.”

“But, I didn’t take any drugs. Why can’t you people believe me?”

“Maybe, it’s because you took drugs before, when you were brought here by an aid car.”

“Look, I received a letter from someone who assaulted me a number of months ago and he said when he got out of jail he was going to come to where I live and assault me again. I went throughout the house looking for my supervisor and mentor because I didn’t know what to do about the letter. You see, I’ve been having mental trouble since I was shot in the head. Surely, you can see the scars from the reconstruction of my skull. I was looking for Dr. Johnson—he’s my supervisor at the foster home and my mentor—because I didn’t know what to do about the letter. Oh, Jesus, why can’t you people understand that I’ve been mentally ill since I was shot in the head? I didn’t take any drugs; I was overwhelmed from the letter I received. Oh, Hell, why can’t you people understand I’m trying to be sane again, but that letter threw me over the edge. I didn’t know what to do and then I fainted when I found out Dr. Johnson had gone to the grocery store.”

“Okay Jerry just relaxed and we’ll get your nose taken care of. Is there anything else we can do for you?”

“Yes, I want you to know I’m feeling rather sane compared to what I’ve felt for the past few months. I think when my head fell on the floor it might’ve jarred something inside my brain making me saner.”

“Okay, we’ll call in a neurologist to have a chat with you.”

“Thank you.”

I lay there in the emergency room waiting for I didn’t know what. Eventually, a doctor came in and felt my nose, which was quite painful. He injected some numbing medicine in my nose and once I didn’t have any feeling he adjusted the broken pieces and applied a thick piece of tape over my nose. All through the procedure he didn’t ask me anything or say anything. It was almost as if I wasn’t there.

After he left I was left alone in my screened off portion of the emergency room. It was then that I realized I was naked and under only the sparest of a blanket. I was getting cold, but what could I do other than think of my current predicament. After months of screaming insanity, I was suddenly free to think lucid thoughts.

My mind immediately focused on my relationship with Geoff. I knew then that I loved him more than the father image he supposed. Could it be possible for me to be his soul mate? Of course, there would be many implications of proposing such an action because of what 319 Winesap Lane had become with all the foster boys living in the house. Yes, I was nineteen, but that could be seen as being detrimental to the moral standing of the house. Plus, I remembered then that I had corresponded with Columbia University in New York City and had to possibility of attending that august institution in the coming autumn. What did I really want: the enduring love of Geoff or the possible scholastic future that I could achieve at Columbia? I would have to talk with Clarence and see what he thought about my situation.

“Hello; how are you doing?” a voice to my left asked.

I looked in that direction and saw a darkly complexion Black man with short-cropped hair and seemingly out of place an pointed angular nose as if he might be part Arabic. He must have been at least six feet tall and had a slender build. My first thought described him as being quite attractive. For some reason I couldn’t explain I found him somewhat threatening to me as I was lying naked in the bed covered only by a very thin blanket.

“I’m cold,” I said.

“Yes, that’s understandable considering you’re under a rather thin blanket. Dr. Rafferty, the trauma physician here said you were hallucinating or were trying to explain your experience here under the influence of some drug that you were feeling quite sane. Could you describe that more fully?”

“I didn’t take any drug; I fainted,” I said.

“Yes, but you said you were feeling saner. Can you explain that to me?”

“Who are you?”

“Oh, yes, I’m Dr. Stinson; I’m the on-call neurologist here.”

“Look, I was shot in the head some months ago when I was down in New York City,” I said matter-of-factly. “Since then I have been quite insane and under the care of Dr. Avianca at the University of Rochester hospital. She’s been helping me come to grips with my insanity, but today after I fainted—and I did faint—I have experienced quite lucid thoughts such that I truly believe that I am no longer insane per Dr. Avianca’s definition. I think I may have jostled something inside my brain causing me to become sane.”

“I see. Well, that is possible, but can you describe your injury?”

“I was initially shot in the left side of my head, but the bullet did not affect the brain; it traversed the lower edge of my brain case and exited through my right eye. The second bullet traversed slightly higher and thereby damaging the lower segments on my frontal lobes before exiting out the right side of my skull and removing considerable portions of my right frontal lobes. Since I regained consciousness, I have been quite insane and have been living in a world quite different than this place. But, today, I fainted and fell on my face breaking my nose and bumping my forehead, which I think jostled my brain to where I have regained sanity.”

“That’s an interesting theory, but we still haven’t established if you have taken some form of hallucinogenic drug today that may be altering your sense of reality.”

“Why can’t you accept that I fainted and became sane? That’s all there is to it.”

“We can have the state police search your residence.”

“Look, I live in a foster home and we do not have drugs there.”

“Like I said, I can have the police search your residence. So, make it easier on yourself and tell me what you took.”

“Fuck you! I didn’t take anything. For God’s sake, why can’t you believe I fainted?”

“Because the evidence you’ve presented doesn’t support your case. I’m recommending you be committed to the county jail pending the results of your toxicology results.”

“You can’t lock me up! I haven’t broken any laws.”

“That remains to be proven.”

* * *

“Hi, how’re you doing?” Geoff asked after I walked out of the county jail reception area wearing the clothes Geoff brought earlier. The metal door behind me clanged shut startling me for a moment and I looked at Geoff and visibly sighed.

“You certainly took your time,” I said. “I’ve been in the county lockup all weekend and didn’t think you’d ever get down here to rescue me.”

“Sorry, but it took the lawyer a while to work out a way to get you out.”

“What lawyer?”

“The gentleman who has helped me before, you know, with Erik.”

“Oh, yeah, that guy. Can we go home now?”

“Sure; how’s your nose?”

“Okay; why do you ask?” I said as we walked out of the jail.

“Oh, just wondering why you fainted,” I felt Geoff’s arm on my back and his hand softly grip my right shoulder. I wanted to turn and kiss him, but I knew this was neither the time nor the place.

“I received a letter from David. He said he was looking forward to getting released and coming back to Warnton to fuck me, again. I was looking for you, but you’d gone to the grocery store. I guess I couldn’t handle that.”

“Oh, well, he isn’t getting out soon, so you don’t have any reason to worry.”

“He’s here, you know.”

“Did he …?”

“Nah, they got him locked up in solitary now. He hasn’t been behaving himself, so to protect some of the younger residents he’s been put away.”

“Dumb fucker, sorry for the pun, but he’s only hurting himself,” he said when we got to his car.

“Yeah, that’s what I heard from some of the what you might call hard core inmates. They said when David gets to a real prison he’ll have to watch his ass or someone might take a liking to him.”

“Does that really happen these days?” he asked as he started up the car. He backed out of his spot and headed for the road that would take us back to the highway in Lyons.

“When I was talking to those older guys, you know, with lots of tats. They asked why I was there and I said some fuck head doctor at the hospital thought I was on drugs and had me arrested pending tox tests. One of ’em asked me who that was and I said it was some dude named Stinson. The other guy said he’d had his run-ins with Stinson and he said I didn’t have anything to worry about being in jail. I thought about asking what he meant, but I figured they had just put me under their protection.”

“That was probably right. Do you want to stop at McDonalds for a burger?”

“Nah, breakfast was just a couple hours ago; I’m good.”

I was just glad to be out of jail and to be going home. Then I remember that guy named Wally who had been at the house when I had my accident, so I asked, “Did you hire Wally?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s living in the bedroom across from my room,” Geoff said. “What do you think of him?”

“Well, I didn’t get that much of a chance to talk to him considering the condition of my nose and head. Did Dr. Avianca call?”

“Yes, you have an appointment with her tomorrow. Wally said he’ll be able to take you. Oh, and we have a new resident.”

“I thought Mr. Daniels wasn’t going to place any more boys with you until you retire.”

“Yes, but it was an emergency.”

“How old is he?”

“Fourteen, but Ian’s a sophomore in high school. He’s pretty smart too. I’ll be teaching him Irish and he’ll be taking French in school.”

“But, you’ll help him with his French, right?”

“Of course, along with the other boys.”

“Including Steven?”

“Definitely, Steven. He’s at the age where it’s easiest to learn a foreign language.”

“It’s a shame you can’t take the boys to Europe so they can use the languages they’re learning.”

“You know, that’s a good idea, but I think we’d better wait a year so the boys get to absorb more French. Of course, I’d have to get permission unless I’m able to adopt all the boys. I’d hate to have to leave a boy here.”

“Yeah, that’d be a big bummer.”

* * *

I must have dozed because unexpectedly the car came to a stop and the engine shut off. I looked up and saw we were in Geoff’s garage. I got out and followed him into the house. In the kitchen, I saw Erik sitting in the dinette drinking some ice water.

“Hey there, Erik; what’s happening?” I said.

“How did you get out of jail?” he asked.

“Me first.”

“Yesterday Dad adopted me and I haven’t gone back to Batavia, yet.”

“Taking some time off?”

“Yeah, something like that. So, why are you here?”

“Your lawyer got me out; maybe, he got a habeas corpus for me. I don’t know.”

“What’s a haby-what?”

“Habeas corpus is a legal term used to get people out of jail when their imprisonment might be illegal.”

“Why were you in jail?”

“Some doc down at Newark thought I’d taken drugs and had me jailed pending results of my tox tests.”

“But, they can take weeks.”

“Yeah, and there was no proof I’d done anything illegal.”

“Fuck!” Erik exclaimed.

“Watch the language, son,” Geoff said from the pantry.

“He likes calling me ‘son’,” Erik said. “He does it all the time. Are you still going to petition the court to allow Dad to adopt you?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I said.

“What? Are you having doubts, now?” Erik asked.

“No, maybe it’s all that’s happened since last Friday. You know, I’m not crazy anymore and I’m still getting used to it. I guess I was pretty whacked out for the past few months, right?”

“Yeah, you were. Did Dad tell you we have a new boy?”

“Yeah, he did. So, what’s his story?”

“He was sexually abused by his stepdad and he can’t be alone with any of us in case he tries to say we made him do things. So, you better watch out.”

“Erik, I told you before about saying those things about Ian,” Geoff said when he came out of the pantry with what looked like a paper wrapped roast he must have taken from the freezer.

“I’m sorry, but I wanted Jerry to know in case he invited him into his room.”

“Is he that bad?” I asked.

“We have to be careful and understand Ian has a skewed view of sexual relations,” Geoff said. “And, there is the possibility he may make inappropriate comments if you get too close to his personal space.”

“Can I try to make friends with him, if I’m careful?” I asked.

“Of course, just remember where he’s coming from, that’s all,” Geoff said.

“I’d leave him alone, if I was you,” Erik said.

“Erik, that isn’t the right attitude toward Ian,” Geoff said. “He’s had a rough life and he just doesn’t understand how men and boys relate in non-sexual ways.”

“Well, he doesn’t have to be my friend,” Erik said.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t be nice to him,” Geoff said. “For me?”

“Okay, Dad, I’ll be nice, but I’m not going to invite him to my room. Right, Jerry? Jerry? Did he leave?”

“’fraid so,” Dad said. “I guess he’s not back a hundred percent, yet.”

“That’s just weird.”

I walked through the house and up to my room. Once there I turned on my laptop and Skyped Clarence hoping on the off chance he would be in his apartment. His computer was definitely on and in his bedroom. I saw him walk in naked with a hard-on and a latex dildo in his hand that was remarkably lifelike; plus, in many ways it reminded me of my own cock. He glanced over at the laptop and then came over and sat down at his desk.

“Hello, J Jerry, long time no see,” Clarence said.

“Yes, it’s been a long time. Guess what, I’m better now.”

“Better how?”

“No crazy shit. Can I come over? I bet my cock is much better than that thing you’re holding.”

“Ooh, yes it is, but you better hurry. I haven’t had a decent come since G Gerry was here last Saturday.”

“Oh, maybe I shouldn’t come over, then.”

“No! I can handle two darling boys at once or at different times. I don’t usually kiss and tell, but sweet G Gerry absolutely loves to give me the most delectable rim jobs.”

“No! Tell me you’re kidding.”

“And, then he barebacks me with just his spit. Would J Jerry like to rim me?”

“I don’t know.”

“How about if you use strawberries and whipped cream?”

“That’s kinky.”

“Yes, isn’t it? Coming?”

“Be there as soon as I can.”

I ran out of my room and down the stairs nearly bumping into Geoff and Erik.

“Sorry, I’m going over to Clarence’s,” I said.

“Will you be back for dinner?” Geoff asked.

“Probably not.”

“I talked with your lawyer. He wants to meet with you tomorrow morning at his office in Lyons and remember you have an appointment with Dr. Avianca tomorrow afternoon.”

“Okay, I’ll try to be back for dinner, but if Clarence wants to go out or order a pizza, I’ll be back before curfew.”

“We don’t have a curfew here,” Erik said.

“Not for you, but I do tell the other boys when they go visit their friends in the evening they have to be back before the reading hour,” Geoff said.

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense. Too bad I don’t have any friends outside of the house.”

I left Geoff and Erik discussing Erik’s lack of a social life in Warnton and the possibility of him finding a local boy to be his “special” friend.

* * *

Since Warnton wasn’t more than a large small town, the walk to Clarence’s apartment normally took no more than thirty minutes, but I was in a hurry and got there in twenty. I buzzed his apartment number at the door and the door lock buzzed in response. He was probably anxious for my arrival, but suddenly I felt out of place. Of course, it had been a long time since I’d been there sane and now that I was it was giving me a strange sensation. I couldn’t place it, but it seemed centered in my gut as if I might puke. I got to his door and when I knocked the door opened a little bit with each rap of my knuckles. I pushed open the door and there he was totally naked stretched out on the sofa with a red bow around the head of his cock. After shutting the door and setting the lock, I went over and sat at his feet.

“Hi,” I said.

“You hurried,” he said. “Do you want me to undress you or are you going to do it yourself?”

“I don’t care; do what you want.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know; it’s, I don’t know; somehow it feels different than before when I was crazy. You know?”

“Oh, dear, you don’t love me, anymore?”

“No, I like you and you’ve got a nice cock and I remember enjoying fucking you, but it all seems different now.”

“Well, I think I can help you. How about a little medicated help? I’ve got some meth I’d be willing to share, if you want.”

“Well, okay, but not too much. You know what happened when I had that LSD.”

“Yes, but that was LSD. Meth is completely different. I’ll go get the syringes ready. I always have extra because I don’t like to share. Back in a minute; okay?”

“Sure, Clare, sure.”

“Clare, that’s so sweet. Kiss my cock before I go?”

He stood up and came over to where I was sitting. He straddled my legs and put his cock to my lips. I opened my mouth and took him in as far as the ribbon around his shaft. I shut my eyes as my tongue laved the soft head.

“Oh, Jerry, you wicked boy,” Clare hissed as he untied the bow. He pushed his cock deeper into my mouth until I took him into my throat.

He grabbed my hair and began to fuck my face. I let my mind wander, but it didn’t seem to know where to go until I finally ended up in a non-place where neither I nor Clarence existed. The only thing my mind could hold onto was the engorged cock thrusting between my lips, across my tongue, and down into my throat. Finally, I reached up and grasped his ass cheeks.

“Oh, God, Jerry, take me, take it all,” Clare breathed as I felt his ass muscles tighten as his come bathed my tongue.

He tried to pull back, but I held him inside my mouth not wanting to lose the feeling of his cock on my tongue.

“Jerry, please let me go,” Clare whispered.

I let him partially pull out and then I grasped his cock and kissed the head. I looked up into his eyes and said, “I don’t think we’ll need that drug. Do you want me to fuck you, now?”

“Oh, yes, now, now!”

He pulled off my t-shirt, undid my belt, unzipped my jeans, and with some difficulty pulled my hardening cock out of my boxers without bothering to pull them down. He took a bottle of lube off the end table and dribbled some on the head of my cock.

“We don’t need much; I’ve already prepped myself,” Clare said.

“My clothes,” I said.

“Eh! I can throw them in the washer. Come on big boy, show time.”

With that he knelt on the sofa straddling my hips. He steadied my cock and slowly lowered himself down onto me until he was balls deep. I looked into his eyes and then inexplicably I passed out.