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    Ivor Slipper
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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Unbeaten - 2. Chapter 2

Events after the end of the school semester

I suggested to Troy that it might be an idea and also a way to avoid me coming round to his house so frequently if he joined me in some bike riding as we could then meet up in different places. Of course on the first occasion he appeared riding a pretty much top of the range model compared to my rather ancient one, but that was the way things were and to be fair to Troy there were days when we swapped bikes.

It was when we were returning from one of those trips that we came across a piece of what looked like woodland on the edge of town. It was quite close to where I lived but on a possible route to Troy’s. The land was unfenced so we decided to investigate. After we’d been walking around it for a while we came to a little clearing in which stood what I can only describe as a small, old, deserted, single storey house. We went inside and it was evident nobody had been there for years based on the dirt and rubbish that had accumulated, although it looked structurally sound. There were only a couple of recognizable items in the one main room and goodness knows how or why they got there. One was an ancient small black and white TV and the other a fold up wooden chair that looked just about safe to perch on provided it was leaned up against a wall. Of course it was Troy who decided this place was to be ‘ours’. I couldn’t really understand why we needed another place when we had his house complete with its pool, but that was Troy all over. He led and I rather tended to follow, albeit very willingly.

The pool was another example of that. Back in the semester when the weather had warmed up sufficiently Troy told me to bring my swim trunks with me when I came for a sleepover. When I got them out of my backpack and put them on in his bedroom Troy fell back on his bed in helpless laughter. I thought at first they must have a hole somewhere, but when he’d recovered he managed to explain between further fits of the giggles, that they were so wrong and that I wasn’t going to be allowed to swim in his pool wearing a pair of trunks. I thought at first he meant I’d have to swim naked which, to be honest, sounded quite interesting, but he explained nude bathing wasn’t possible because of the possibility of being seen from nearby houses. While they weren’t that close the pool could be seen from a couple of second floor windows. That meant I ended up wearing a pair of his speedos which I readily admit was exciting. Troy was a proper swimmer and while I could swim it was not to his standard. However, we had some good fun in and around that pool over the ensuing weeks and into the vacation.

Plus which we had the use of his house and his bedroom. Come the vacation I was spending every moment I could with him. As always I had various chores to do at home like cutting the grass and keeping the paths weed free, but once they were done the day was mine. Without doubt this summer was proving to be the best ever.

When we next went to the old house a couple of days later I was surprised to discover that Troy had been there in the interim, for in one corner of the room were a couple of sleeping bags. He told me they were old ones that he’d brought from home. Old they may have been, but the filling was still substantial and comfortable as we found when we stripped down and lay on them. Troy had even slid a pair of his boxer briefs in one of them which he insisted I put on. I willingly did knowing full well though that it wouldn’t be long before they were off! I had to admit there was something very special about the first sixty nine we did there. Thinking about it afterwards I decided it was because it was the first time we had done anything sexual outside of his bedroom. I knew there was very little risk of us being discovered, but that little fear added something, as well as the feeling that our relationship was developing.

Unsurprisingly it was Troy who came up with the idea of spending the last Friday night of the summer break there. I wasn’t happy with this as it meant lying to my folks who naturally thought I was staying with him. It also meant he’d have to lie to his folks and say he was sleeping over with me – something that had never happened before. But once Troy got an idea into his head it was hard to stop him and my protests were brushed away.

That Friday was a clear warm night with an almost full moon. We both came on our bikes to maintain the pretence to our folks that we were staying at each others' homes. We’d bought some water, cola, sandwiches and chocolate bars in the supermarket so weren’t going to go hungry. We just lay on the sleeping bags as the day started to draw to a close talking about all manner of odd things including our hopes for the future which we both wanted to be a united one – although how that would be achieved we really had no idea. We’d been kissing and caressing each other for ages while we talked, but we hadn’t done anything sexual even though tonight we were both clad in CK boxer briefs. Troy had brought a pair of new black ones that he insisted I wear while he had on a pair of white ones I’d never seen before so presumed must also be new. As the evening progressed they were both getting fairly damp with pre-cum though!

We’d ended up on our sides with Troy spooned into me. I was running my hands over his chest and down to his briefs but not going inside them or over stimulating his dick, while his hand was roaming round my butt. I’d just nuzzled into his neck after sucking one of his ear lobes when he said in little more than a whisper,

“Do you love me, Adam?”

I was somewhat stunned. Although we’d talked about sharing a future together that was a word we’d never used.

“Of course I do, Troy. You’re the only thing that makes my life worth living; makes it worth getting out of bed in the morning. When I’m not with you I’m like half a person.”

I wasn’t sure where those words had come from, but they did sum up my feelings about Troy and what he meant to me. His whisper seemed to drop even lower and I could hardly make out his next words. “Will you prove it to me?”

“What!” I exclaimed, letting go of him, thus enabling him to turn over and face me. In the moonlight I could see a couple of tears running down his cheeks. He ran the fingers of his left hand down my right cheek before kissing me gently.

“I want us to be one, Adam. I want to know what if feels like to have you inside me. I’ve wanted to know for weeks now, but somehow I knew I wouldn’t feel right about doing it at home with my parents there. Once we’re officially a couple then that wouldn’t be a problem, but I know you can’t come out to your folks so I decided to live without. Then we found this place and that problem was solved, apart from me plucking up the courage to ask you. Now it’s the final Friday of the vacation so what better time can there be?”

Deep down I somehow knew Troy was right, that one day we would take the next step, but I just hadn’t expected it now. I could feel tears staring to form in my own eyes as I answered.

“Are you really sure about this Troy? From what I’ve read it’s going to hurt and I don’t want to hurt you – ever.”

He kissed me again and I felt his fingers wipe away my own tears.

“The only way you could ever hurt me Adam is if you left me. I’ve probably read the same books as you and apparently sometimes it does and sometimes it doesn’t. I’ve been getting myself ready for this so it should be alright and even if it does hurt I won't mind. And I spent a long time in the shower this afternoon making sure I’m clean.”

“But I’m not – not in that way. And I’m not prepared like you say you are.”

Now Troy moved so he was kneeling astride my chest. He brought his face close to mine.

“Adam, I want to feel you inside me. You have to decide when, if ever, you want to feel me inside you. It’s a big step and I’ve prepared myself for it – as far as I can – in my body and in my mind. Please…………”

He lowered himself onto me and we wrapped our arms around each other. We stayed like that for a couple of minutes before Troy disentangled himself and stood up having joined his hands in mine so that I was also pulled to my feet. We hugged one another and our hands roamed across each others' chests and backs before his reached the waistband of my CKs. His thumbs went inside and he pushed them down freeing my dick which stood out firm and hard. He knelt down and retrieved a jar that he had hidden under his sleeping bag; opening it he smeared a liberal quantity of its contents on my already damp dick. When he did so I nearly came. He told me to push down his CKs which I did and he then raised one leg at a time to remove them before handing me the jar and lying back down. Once on the floor he lay on his back and raised both legs back over his chest holding them under each knee.

“I want to see your face as you make love to me, Adam – and this way you can see mine too.”

I stood almost mesmerized as he lay there in the moonlight – totally exposed and offering his innermost self to me. I was sure now that we would do this again, but there would never be another first time. This was so special that I knew I was crying as I knelt down and began to spread some of the cream around his hole. When I thought I had used sufficient I moved into position so that I could indeed look into his eyes and see the smile on his face as I placed the head of my dick against his rosebud and began to gently press forward.

What happened in the next half hour or so cannot be described in words. For both of us it was a truly magical experience, and as Troy confirmed he felt only momentary pain on my initial push. After that it was immeasurable pleasure all the way for both of us, especially as Troy came while I was still inside him. Then we lay together in total bliss for a time before we both found ourselves getting hard again. Once Troy had assured me that he felt no soreness or discomfort from our first lovemaking we did it again, only this time more slowly. We then spooned together and with my dick between Troy’s legs we went to sleep, waking to find the sun had risen, along with my dick yet again! This morning though we settled for our usual sixty nine, slightly surprised at how much we could still produce.

We’d both brought our backpacks so we had a change of underwear, but no ability to wash or shower. After we had said our goodbyes I managed to get to the store early and use the rest room there while Troy reckoned he’d be able to sneak in and get up to his bedroom without being detected. Although I was convinced that the smell of boy sex must be hanging round me like a cloak, nobody commented during my shift. Indeed several people remarked on how happy and cheerful I appeared, which was indeed the case. I felt on top of the world while wondering how soon it might be possible to repeat our experiences of last night, but with our roles reversed, for now I was determined that Troy should enjoy what he had given me. The only problem was how we could achieve that. In the few months we had been together this was the first time he had (supposedly) slept over at my house and it would seem strange if we did the same again soon; plus which the weather would soon start to get colder making sleeping out in that old house at night probably unpleasant if not impossible. It seemed we might have to wait for some time before an opportunity arose.

School resumed, but now Troy and I had no project to work on and were thus reduced to my fortnightly sleepover at his house. We tried to come up with other possibilities to be together, but I was never going to get on any of the sports teams, so chances seemed limited. However, Troy did come up with an idea one day asking me what I did on a Sunday afternoon.

Sunday mornings I went to church with my parents. We’d always gone as a family as far back as I could remember, but at about the time I became a teen I decided it wasn’t the church for me. It was very fundamentalist with the preacher giving sermons every week about how we were all going to end up in hell fire and eternal damnation unless we lived the right sort of life. There were even occasions when some poor soul stood up in front of the congregation and confessed his or her sins! Now, I believed in God – sort of – but I couldn’t believe in that sort of God; the one I sought was kind and secretly forgiving of our sins. Of course I couldn’t say that to my parents so I still dutifully went along every Sunday and endured for a couple of hours.

After church though, I could do what I wanted – provided all my chores were done. That sometimes had meant going out for a ride on my bike but usually was spent in my room, reading or listening to music. I’d grown to like classical music, weird as that might sound, but pop was considered to be a tool of the devil performed by his spawn. Anyway, it was Troy who suggested we could meet in the park as there was a group of kids from school who met there every Sunday afternoon to toss a football around or play on the outdoor basketball court or just sit around and chat. We wouldn’t be alone, but in some ways that was good for me in that my parents raised little objection to my going.

I’d been going there for about three weeks when on the Monday evening I was sat in my bedroom when Pa came home from work. I heard the front door slam and then his voice raised above normal level as he talked to Ma in the kitchen before I heard him hollering for me to ‘get my ass’ into the kitchen. I couldn’t think of anything I done wrong, or forgotten to do, but something didn’t seem right.

When I got there he was stood leaning up against the worktop and looking angry.

“What is it you do when you’re down the park on Sundays, boy?”

I’d known for years that when he called me ‘boy’ trouble was brewing.

“We play ball or basketball or just sit around and chat; just a group perhaps twenty or so of us from school – boys and girls.”

“Is that all you do, boy?”

“Usually, yes, but sometimes we might go and get a drink or an ice cream.”

“So there’s no truth in what I was told today about you holding hands with that pervert pansy Troy and even kissing him.” He virtually spat out the last two words as if they were rattlesnake venom he had sucked from a strike on someone and then got rid of. “Think hard before you answer, boy. Lying ain’t gonna help you.”

As he’d spoken the previous sentence I’d felt my face heat up while my stomach felt as if its contents were about to turn liquid and spew from me. It was true we had held hands on a couple of occasions and we had kissed just before we both headed for home yesterday, but we thought we’d made sure nobody could see us. And then I remembered, just after we finished our kiss Mike Daubney appeared from who knew where and his father was one of the managers at the factory where Pa worked. I thought Mike was a friend of Troy’s but apparently not – or at least he wasn’t a friend of mine.

There was no point in lying and I knew from previous experience that if I did whatever retribution Pa had in mind for me would indeed be worse. Finding courage that I didn't know I possessed I replied,

“Yes, we did. We love one another!”

Pa’s face reddened and he looked as if he might be going to have a seizure while Ma let out a scream, put her hands to her face and started sobbing.

“No son of mine is gonna be a cock sucking faggot! I’m gonna beat this stupid crap nonsense out of you. Go to your room and be sure you’re naked as the day you were born when I get there.”

I’d been spanked on occasions ever since I was a little kid and when I got to about eleven my spankings changed from being over Pa’s knee and spanked with his hand to lying over the end of my bed and being whipped with his belt. I did my best to ensure those whippings happened as rarely as possible and it was several months since the last when it was considered I’d been rude to Ma. However, all previous whippings had been delivered while I still had my boxers on – not that they gave any real protection other than to my dignity.

I went to my room, stopping off in the bathroom first, stripped and waited. It must have been a good twenty minutes before Pa arrived, belt in hand. I went to bend over the edge of the bed, but he stopped me before I could.

“Things are gonna change round here, boy – including you. There’s gonna be new rules you’ll haveta obey – or else.”

He started listing them out on his fingers. I was never to see Troy again outside of school; I would not be allowed to leave home to go to school until fifteen minutes before school started - we lived just over ten minutes away on my bike; I had to be home from school twenty minutes after school ended; I could still work at the store on Saturdays, but I had to go straight there and come straight home after my shift finished. On Sundays after church I was confined to the house and garden. My heart sank as each finger was ticked off, but I knew there was more to come.

“I’m gonna give you fifteen licks of the belt now. On Sunday you are gonna stand up in church and confess your sins and pray for forgiveness and redemption. If you don’t you’ll get fifteen licks when we get home and we’ll go on doing that every Sunday until you do see the light and seek redemption.”

I’d started to tear up a bit when he was listing the new rules at the thought of not being able to be with Troy again. I also knew I was in for a whipping, but I’d never considered it was going to become a weekly ritual, because there was no way I was ever going to stand up in church and confess as he wanted. How many Sundays before I reached eighteen I wondered or would I break and run away before then? I wanted to yell at my Pa and tell him how much I hated him and all he stood for, but at the moment he was angry yet under control. If I said that his temper would take over and my whipping would be even worse. Instead I turned away and positioned myself over the end of the bed, grabbing handfuls of the comforter as I did so. I managed to take the first half dozen or so licks fairly quietly before the sobs started which turned into real howls of pain before the final one was delivered. Pa simply left the room without a word while I crawled up the bed and eventually sobbed myself to sleep.

On the Tuesday morning Troy and I only shared one class before lunch and it wasn’t one where we sat together so as I only arrived at school as the five minute bell was sounding we hadn’t had a chance to talk. I delayed going into the canteen until I was confident Troy would be there and then I went and stood in the doorway hoping he’d be looking for me. He was and I signalled for him to come over, which he did. I said I had something I needed to tell him in private and we went outside to sit on a bench, luckily it wasn’t raining.

Haltingly, in between bouts of tears, I told him everything. Before I’d got part way Troy had his arms round me pulling me into a cuddle and trying to reassure me that everything would be alright eventually; that even if he couldn’t see me he still loved me and always would. When he asked me how my Pa came to know I told him of my suspicions of Mike Daubney.

“Yeah, that fits” he said with a snarl. “A couple of years ago he and I were close. We became wank buddies on sleepovers at each others' homes until the point at which he decided he wanted to fuck me and I didn’t want him to. We sorta stayed friends after that for the sake of appearances, but I guess he got jealous seeing me with you. Shit, all of this is my fault, Adam.” I tried to convince him it wasn’t, but by the end of our conversation Troy was almost as upset as I was.

I got through the week somehow, valuing the short amount of time I could spend in Troy’s company at lunch, but dreading the arrival of Sunday and knowing what lay in store for me after church. I can’t say the whipping was any easier to take and I was a blubbering mess at the end, but I was determined not to give way and seek forgiveness from people I either didn’t know or, at best, hardly knew, for something I didn’t anyway consider a sin.

On the Monday when I went to sit down next to Troy at our lunch table I couldn’t help let out a little moan as my butt came into contact with the hard plastic seat of the chair. Troy must have seen the brief flash of pain across my face. “You’re coming with me” he said and asked Jerry Martin who was sitting on his other side to come with us.

“Where we going?” I asked.

“You’ll find out” he answered and led me through a few corridors until we came to a rest room. He led the way in. There was one small kid who looked like a 8th grader there using the urinal who looked as scared as hell when we three big 10th graders came in. Troy told the kid to scram which he did with alacrity and then told Jerry to go and stand outside and tell anyone who wanted to use it that it was out of commission until we emerged. Jerry gave Troy a grin and a thumbs up and went outside.

“Now, jeans and boxers down Adam, I wanna see the state of your butt.”

I protested. I didn’t want anyone, not even Troy to see my butt, but he insisted saying I could do it the easy way and drop them myself or the hard way when he’d do it for me. That was said with a grin as a reminder of happier times and seeing no alternative I did as he’d asked. I was facing Troy as I eased them down and as they dropped he walked round behind me and lifted up the hem of my polo shirt. There followed a noise like a howl of rage that was followed by several swear words.

“How the fuck can anyone do this to their son? How can you even bear to sit down Adam, you must be in agony. This has got to be stopped. Your Pa can’t be allowed to do this to you; he’s gotta be reported.”

“And then what’ll happen? I’ll get put in some home and we both know what happens in places like that.”

“But somethings gotta be done. You can’t go on living like this.”

I pulled my boxers and jeans back up. “Perhaps he’ll tone it down after a while. If not I’m counting off the days until I’m sixteen and maybe can leave home. For now I don’t see an alternative.”

I’d been doing some checking of laws online and found that while I couldn’t leave home without parental permission before I was eighteen, if I could get permission it was possible to leave at sixteen. Based on what my folks now considered me to be I was pretty confident they’d give such permission, glad to no longer have to support me and be rid of their faggot son.

We left it at that, but the next day Troy handed me a cellphone. I tried to refuse it on the basis of what might happen if my folks found it, but he told me to stick it down the bottom of my backpack. He explained he’d never call me on it so it would never ring, but it was pre-programmed with his number so if I ever needed him all I had to do was press the call button. I couldn’t see any likelihood of ever using it, but to keep him happy I agreed to take it.

The week passed and all too soon it was Saturday. At least I could get out of the house and work my shift at the store. When I got back home afterwards Pa was waiting for me as I came through the door. As soon as I’d closed it he shouted

“Git to your room boy and git stripped. You’re in for another whupping.”

“Why Pa – what have I done wrong?”

“Don’t try playing the innocent with me, boy. You know full well what you done. You were seen outside the store with that pervert pansy when you’d been told never to see him again out of school.”

“But, we only spoke for a couple of minutes.”

That was true, he’d only come before my shift started to plead with me to confess at church on Sunday and when I said I wouldn’t he reminded me to call if I needed him.

“You should’ve turned your back on him and walked away.”

I knew there was no changing Pa’s mind so I walked slowly, sensing how a condemned man probably felt, to my bedroom and took off all my clothes. Pa didn’t keep me waiting long before I was once again lying over the end of my bed and his belt was cracking down on my butt. I was sobbing pretty much from the start of this whipping and howling before he finished.

On Sunday morning I found it almost impossible to sit still on the hard wooden pew in church – my butt was so bruised and painful. The only way I could get anywhere near comfortable was to sort of perch on my thighs as Pa, rather fortunately, concentrated his lashes on my butt. Even so being there for a couple of hours was not pleasant.

When we got home Pa told me to go to my room and that he’d be along after they’d eaten to give me my whipping. I stared incredulously at him.

“Why Pa?” I asked in almost a whisper.

“You didn’t confess your sins in church and you know that means a whupping.”

“But you only whupped me yesterday.”

“So I did, but that was for seeing pansy boy.”

I broke down and started crying in front of him before walking to my bedroom. Once there it only took me a couple of minutes to reach a decision. There was no way I could take another whipping after last evening so my only option was to run. Now I was so glad Troy had persuaded me to take that ‘phone. I simply couldn't go without saying goodbye to him in person. One press of the call button and he answered after a couple of rings. I asked him to meet me at the secret place in about twenty minutes which he said he would and then I cut the call as I didn’t want to waste time talking. I took off the white shirt and black dress pants I’d worn to go to church. Normally I’d have hung those up, but in a small additional act of defiance or rebellion, I simply tossed them on the floor. I found a V-neck short sleeve white t-shirt and put that on along with an old baggy pair of blue jeans. After that I stuffed a few items of clothing in my backpack. If I was going to run I knew I couldn't take much with me, but a couple of changes of clothes made sense. I looked round the room trying to decide if there was anything else I needed, anything I wanted as a reminder of my life here. The only thing I picked up was my laptop onto which I'd entrusted many of my secret hopes and dreams over the last few months. I didn't know where I was going to end up, but for sure it wouldn't be in this town and thus Troy would no longer be part of my life. However, with the computer I could perhaps still stay in touch with him by email. While that wouldn't be the same as talking to him and hearing his voice, I knew I wouldn't be able to afford the cost of 'phone calls. Plus which there were also pictures of us he'd taken and downloaded onto a flash drive for me which was safely hidden in an inside pocket of the backpack - I had to have those to remember the good times we'd shared. Finally I made sure I’d got my wallet and bank card. I didn't have a lot of money saved, but hopefully it would enable me to buy some provisions until I found work. After one final look round the room I tried to open the window as quietly as possible. It seemed to make a loud squeaky noise and I definitely made a noise clambering out, but then I was off moving as fast as I could and keeping to the minor streets and short cuts I’d come to know from time spent on my bike.

Eventually I made it to the old house which was where I was now sat, perched uncomfortably on my thighs on the edge of the chair, worrying that Troy wasn’t going to keep his word. Finally I heard some noise outside, but it sounded like two voices and I was expecting only Troy. It was though Troy who came through the door and I was so pleased to see him that I stood up and we embraced and hugged while I started sobbing. When I’d got myself under control I asked,

“What took you so long? And I thought I heard voices, have you brought someone with you?”

Troy took my hands in his and looked right into my eyes.

“I was scared when you called; you sounded so frightened so I asked Pa to drive me.”

“Does he know about………”

“Yes he does. Both my parents do. I had to explain why you didn’t come for your sleepover the other Friday and I could only tell the truth. We’ve all been worried about you. And as for why it took so long, I saw your Pa’s pick up when we were driving here so told Pa to drive into town. Your Pa followed us, but drove off when we pulled into the car park at the mall. As soon as we were sure he’d gone we came here. But why the call – what’s happened.”

“Pa whipped me last night after I got home from the store.”

“What!” Troy almost shouted, “But why?”

“Someone told him they’d seen the two of us outside the store and that meant I’d broke his rules.”

“Holy shit! We only spoke, nothing more.”

I nodded. “I know. I could sort of live with that the way he’s been, but then when we got back from church today he told me I was going to get another whipping because I hadn’t confessed my sins.”

“What! He must be mad.”

I was back to sobbing now. “I couldn’t take another whipping Troy, so I decided to call you and run. I wanted to see you one last time before I left town. I’ve got some money, so I’ll be alright for a time and I’ll call you when I can – if I can keep the ‘phone.”

“You’re not going anywhere, Adam” said a voice behind me that I recognized as being Troy’s father.

I turned round to look at him. He placed his hands on my shoulders and said,

“Adam, will you show me what he’s done to you?”

I trusted Mr C, so I unbuttoned and pushed down my jeans and boxers before turning to show him my rear. I heard a gasp followed by a collection of expletives.

“I’ve seen more than enough, Adam. Pull them back up – if you can.”

I managed a half smile and hoisted them back up, grimacing as the clothing touched my ravaged butt. I was feeling a bit weak as I hadn’t eaten since breakfast so I squatted back down on the chair once more. Mr C knelt in front of me.

“There are things you don’t know about me and Troy’s Mom. I reckon it is time you did. You can’t help but have noticed we are older than most parents of boys of his and your age.”

I nodded as it had puzzled me slightly ever since I first met Mrs C.

“When we got married we tried very hard to have babies, but none came. After some years we decided to foster. We’d been doing that for a few years when Alicia discovered she was pregnant with what proved to be Troy. We kept the foster boy we had then until he was old enough to go off to college so Troy had an older brother for a few years.”

He paused, so I cut in.

“So that explains why you’re older than my parents, but why is it relevant?”

“It’s relevant Adam because we are still approved foster parents. When we leave here you’re coming home with Troy and me and when we get there I’m going to call the CPS and the Police. You need emergency foster care…..”

“I’m not going into one of those foster homes.” I almost shouted at him.

Troy put his hand on my shoulder. “You’re not listening, Adam. We’re going to be your emergency foster home!”

I looked at Troy and then at his Pa.

“Yes, Adam. On a Sunday afternoon CPS will never find a place for you, so they’ll gladly accept our offer to take you in on an emergency basis. I’m pretty sure they will also agree to you living with us permanently – if that is what you want.”

I burst into tears. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. What had been the shittiest weekend of my life was suddenly turning into…..

“There’s just one thing though” added Mr C.

I knew it was too good to be true; that there had to be a catch.

“We’re all going to have to tell a little lie to the CPS. When you’ve had your sleepovers with Troy you always stayed in the guest room – didn’t you?”

“No, I…..” and then it dawned on me and mustering a grin I replied, “Yeah, that’s a great room. I love it.”

--------- 

We got back to Troy’s house and his Pa called the Police and CPS. Both came quickly and I had to tell my story to both as well as show them my butt of which many pictures were taken for evidence. After they’d also taken my statement the police went off to arrest my Pa. The CPS lady approved my staying with the Connellys on a temporary basis and indicated that she couldn’t see a problem in that becoming a permanent arrangement if I wanted. I could hardly contain my glee at the thought.

After they’d finished Mrs C cooked us a meal and when we’d finished eating I started to feel really exhausted, so Troy and I went upstairs. Mrs C had got the guest room ready for me and it was indeed a really nice one complete with a small shower, john and basin. I unpacked the few things I’d stowed in my backpack and then lay down on my stomach on the bed – it was only a single, albeit larger than the one I had at ho.... – that place I once lived.

Troy had wandered off, into his own room I guessed, but a couple of minutes later I heard him come back and felt something fairly small land on the bed. When I turned my head to see what it was I spotted a pack of new American Eagle boxer briefs and beyond them was a grinning Troy kneeling by the side of the bed.

“When you’re up to wearing boxers again, it’ll be this type from now on.”

“Yay! Then I can wear them tomorrow when we go to school.”

Troy looked shocked. “You gonna feel up to going to school tomorrow?”

“You ain’t going there without me, Troy. And I tell you something else – on Saturday I’m going into town and buying myself a coupla pairs of skinny jeans.”

========  

Copyright © 2018 Ivor Slipper; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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On 2/7/2018 at 9:07 AM, Geron Kees said:

I don't know that being gay is viewed so harshly in prison, at least according to all the things you read or see in film about prison life now. Yes, in the 1940's, but this is not the 1940's. You're talking about a self-contained culture comprised of a 100% male population. There is far more gay activity in prison, per population, one would think, than in a comparable slice of the population on the street. It's openness among a prison population probably varies considerably depending on where in the country that prison is located, but I would be willing to bet that the activity levels are fairly even across the board.

 

So beating a kid for being gay - and your own kid, too - would not sit well with a lot of guys in prison, any more than it would out in the world. People are people, and parents, especially, are parents, even in prison. As a parent, I already know how I feel about Adam's dad. I kind of doubt being in prison would change that opinion one iota.

The problem is that most of the prison population, at least in the US, does not identify as Gay. They see the receptive partners as the only Gay ones – and many of those also identify as straight, only participating out of necessity. A large percentage of the incarcerated and formerly incarcerated in the US are extremely homophobic. Behavior is not the same as identity. It does not make them more sympathetic to those who are born that way.

 

When I was homeless, I lived in shelters with many formerly incarcerated men. I encountered many very homophobic people among them. My impression is that LGBTQs are more accepted in the suburbs than in less affluent areas like the city I currently live in, the city where two of the three shelters I stayed in are located.

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