Poor Man's Son - 29. Chapter 28

July 27, 2000

Rome, Italy

Will

“You’re definitely recharged,” I joked, as I stroked his dick.

“So are you,” he said. He pulled out a magnum and started to take it out of the wrapper.

“You don’t have to do this,” I told him honestly. He’d never expressed much of an interest in bottoming, and I knew I’d be a challenge. Rico’s words haunted me. ‘He cannot handle you’ he’d said.

“I want to,” he asserted. “I need you to help me loosen up, though.”

“How do I do that?”

“Let me show you,” he said. He took my hand and guided it to his hole. I smiled and began stroking him, and then he wiped the smile away by kissing me. The taste of his mouth, the feel of his lips on mine, fueled my passion. I grabbed the lube and slathered it all over him, then probed in with one finger. “Mmmm,” he moaned.

I explored around, but he didn’t seem to enjoy it all that much. “How do I do this?” I asked.

He took my hand and adjusted it so I was pushing into this spot in his ass. “Like that,” he said. I moved my finger in and out, and this time he really did moan. “Good.”

I pulled out and watched him get all disappointed, and then re-entered him with two fingers. He grunted a little bit, but then got into it even more. “Like this?” I asked, teasing him.

“Yes,” he said breathlessly. He lay there moaning, his cock throbbing, as I probed him with two fingers. “Now a third one.”

“Three fingers?”

“Yes, just like in the porno stories. One finger, two fingers, three fingers, fuck.” I chuckled and added a finger, and got so into it I was kind of surprised to feel his hand on my dick. He handed me the condom and I slid it on, then he lay back, holding his ankles, exposing his pulsing hole to me.

I lined my dick up and pushed in, and got pretty nervous as he grimaced in pain. “I’m sorry,” I apologized when his dick deflated.

“Do not be sorry,” he said. “As much as this hurts now, so it will feel good when I am used to you.”

I pushed in, and then backed out, pausing to add more lube. I did that two more times until I was finally able to work the head of my dick past his ring. He was panting now, and was clearly not having fun. I was about to stop when he reached down and grabbed my hips, pulling me in. My dick plunged into him, buried in his ass, and I forgot all about his discomfort and gave myself over to the pleasure I felt. I thought briefly about Gustave, and how he’d felt, but this was nothing like that. Berto was so much hotter, and so much tighter.

I instinctively began to move in and out of him, and slowly he seemed to get into it. That actually made things even better, because he was handling my dick the same way I’d handled him. I figured that I’d do what he did for me: I’d get off and then get out of him pretty quickly. I started pumping faster, and then everything changed.

“Oh yes!” he said loudly. “Oh yes!” And it was like I flipped a switch in him. He started thrusting back at me with his ass, as if he was trying to get me to fuck him faster. I obliged willingly, and began to pick up my pace. I was rewarded by louder moans. By the time I was really fucking him, his dick had hardened and was leaking, and he lay there, his head flailing from side to side, as he uttered words in Italian that were incoherent to me.

When he’d fucked me, it had been OK, but fucking him like this, when he was really into it, was a complete blast. It was unbelievable. It was a good thing I’d just blown; otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to go as long as I did. I felt those warning signs, the signs that said I was going to cum. “Cumming!” I managed to say, more of a shout, and then I blew. My dick swelled inside of him, as if it were trying to blow him up from the inside out, and I shot wad after wad into the rubber. I almost blacked out; it was as if I’d passed into another world, where I was there with him, but by myself, giving myself over to the extreme ecstasy he gave me. I finally finished, coming out of my cloudy post-orgasmic rush, to see him looking up at me, completely crazed.

His hard dick was fully engorged, and there was a puddle on his abdomen where it had leaked precum from all of my pounding. Even though my dick was getting to that super-sensitive stage, I kept it lodged in his ass, gently pushing it in and out of him with little strokes, while I reached down and jacked him off. He liked that a lot, and soon he was making those incoherent sounds again, and then he came, in what had to be an orgasm that was as powerful as mine was. He launched shot after shot across his chest and stomach. I knew he was a volume shooter, but this was bigger than I’d ever seen. He finally put his hand on mine to stop me from jacking him, indicating that he was done. When I made to pull out of him, he stopped me.

“Go slow,” he cautioned. “You are a big boy, and you must give a man time to adjust to you leaving.”

“Alright,” I said, and pulled out pretty slowly. When my dick finally slipped all the way out, he cringed in pain, and I instinctively pushed two of my fingers back in.

“That is good, that is good. See, you are almost a pro already.”

I laughed. “That was my first real time,” I said. He knew about Gustave, so he knew what I meant.

“It was a first for me as well.”

“I don’t understand.” He’d been fucked before.

“I have never enjoyed bottoming that much. I have never cum that hard.”

I felt my male ego soar, fragile as it was, and he smiled at me knowingly. After that, we drifted off to sleep. I’d kind of wondered whether I was a top or a bottom, but as I let sleep overtake me, I concluded that I’d found my answer. I loved being a top.

 

July 28, 2000

Claremont, Ohio

Gathan

There was loud knocking on the door to the house, but I ignored it. It was probably the construction crew. “Who’s making all that noise?” Kristin asked groggily.

“I don’t know, but let’s ignore them,” I said, leaning in to kiss her.

“What do you want to do today?” she asked.

“I thought I’d take you out to the river, to my favorite swimming hole.”

“That sounds like fun,” she said. Our kiss got more passionate, and I was just about to take it to the next step when there was a knock on the bedroom door.

“Who is it?” I asked, all pissed off.

“Claremont Police!” an authoritative voice said as the door flew open.

Kristin screamed and grabbed the blanket to cover up her boobs. “What the fuck are you doing?” I yelled. Two cops came in with that ‘cop’ attitude that I’d learned to despise.

“Gathan Hayes, you are under arrest,” one of them said.

“What for?” I demanded.

“Statutory rape,” he said. He turned to Kristin. “Miss Hendrickson, are you being held here against your will, or are you being forced to do things you don’t want to do?”

I was too stunned to say anything. I just stared at them, then at Kristin. Kristin was always polite and had the manners you’d expect of someone from her background, but now she was pissed off. “I am here because I want to be here. But you two, staring at me like this, make me feel assaulted. Quit staring at me! I feel so humiliated!” She finished that statement in a yelling sob.

“I’m sorry ma’am,” the officer said apologetically.

“Get out of here, both of you, and give me a chance to get dressed,” she ordered. “We’ll be out in a minute.”

“Yes ma’am,” the other officer said.

I looked at her, really freaked out. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “Don’t you worry. I’ll handle this.”

“Your parents must really hate me,” I said resignedly.

She ignored that. “Get dressed. I’m coming with you to bail you out.”

“Can they put me in jail for this?” I asked as I pulled my pants on.

“Make sure you don’t have anything illegal,” she said. I pulled out my weed and she took it. She was thinking clearly, while I was just dazed. “Good. They won’t bother me.”

We walked to the door, but she stopped me right before we walked out. “I am so sorry about this,” she said. “I will make things right.”

“You won’t want to go out with me now that I have a record,” I joked.

“I’m worried that you won’t want to be with me,” she said sadly.

“I love you,” I told her. “Not even asshole cops can change that.” She gave me a slight smile, and then I got serious again. “Call Nick Schluter.”

“You don’t think he ordered this?” she asked.

“I doubt it. He isn’t in real good with the Chief of Police,” I told her. He’d been less than supportive of Nick’s initiatives, and most people knew the Chief’s days were numbered. This must be some last big favor he was doing for Kristin’s father.

We walked out of the room and the cops were there with handcuffs. “Is that really necessary?” she demanded.

“I’m sorry ma’am,” the cop said to her apologetically, even as he put the cuffs on me roughly. “It’s procedure.”

“You hurt him, and you answer to me,” she said, getting in his face. It was amazing to watch her in action, and it dawned on me that she handled herself a lot like Will had when he’d confronted the cops at the river. They came from a world where they didn’t have to worry about cops on a rampage.

“We won’t hurt him,” the cop said, then read me my rights. They guided me down to the squad car, with the construction crews as an audience. I got along with them well, so they looked pretty pissed off.

The cops pushed me into the squad car, and now that Kristin wasn’t around, they felt free to be total assholes. “Maybe you’ll see your dad in jail.”

“Maybe you’ll get busted for being Hendrickson’s stooge,” I said rudely.

“So how long you been fucking her?” he asked me rudely.

“I have the right to remain silent, asshole,” I snapped. “I want to call my lawyer as soon as we get to the station.”

“In due time,” he said with a sinister smile.

“Violate my rights, just a bit, and it will be your ass.” I was pissed off now, and the daze was gone.

“Yeah, I’m really afraid of some white trash dude from the east side,” the cop said to his partner, being a smartass.

“This white trash dude has Stefan Schluter and JP Crampton in his corner. Who’s backing your pathetic asses up?” They shrugged, but it must have hit home, since they shut up after that.

We got to the station and they processed me in. The cop doing that was much nicer than those who’d arrested me. I got fingerprinted, and then they took my picture. I smiled really big for the camera. He didn’t put the cuffs back on me; evidently, I must not have seemed like a big threat.

“Most people don’t smile for their mug shot,” the cop said with a chuckle.

“Most of them don’t know what bullshit it is that they got arrested.”

“You’re charged with stat rape,” he mused. “How old is your girlfriend? It was a girl, I assume?”

“This time,” I said. He thought I was joking. “She’s seventeen.”

“Seventeen? Wait here,” he said, and vanished into the maze of the station.

I sat there and tried to find something interesting to look at. My father must have been here a bunch of times, doing just what I was doing now. That was pretty disturbing, that I was following the same path he’d followed. It had been quite a while, when the guy finally returned.

“You can go now,” he said.

“I can go?”

“Unless you want to stay here,” he joked. “The food’s not good, and the company is even worse.”

“No, I’m glad to go. Thanks,” I said.

“Congratulations,” he said.

“For what?”

“On getting engaged, and in Paris. That’s pretty romantic,” he said, giving me shit.

I got engaged in Paris? “Yeah, I’m a real romantic guy,” I joked back to hide my confusion.

“Your lawyer and your fiancée are waiting outside to go over things,” he said. Fiancée? This should be interesting.

“Thanks for being so professional, and for helping me out,” I said as I shook his hand. He led me out to the lobby where there were a bunch of angry people waiting for me.

“Why is he being released?” Chris Hendrickson yelled as I walked into the lobby. “He had sex with a minor.”

“Please explain to your client,” a man I didn’t recognize said, “that Ohio law defines statutory rape as sex with a minor who is 13 to 16 years old, provided there is a reasonable age difference.” He must be my lawyer. I saw the cops vanish, leaving me in the room with Kristin, her parents, and two guys who must be our lawyers.

“You are playing with fire,” Kristin said, getting in her father’s face. “I am not spending another day in your house.”

“You’re a minor. You’re my child. There’s nothing you can do about it,” Hendrickson said.

“I’m filing for emancipation,” she said. “And you’re going to sign off on it.”

“The hell I am,” he said loudly.

“If you don’t, I’ll have to create a reason, a really good reason,” she said, glaring at him.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, more subdued.

“I’ll have to tell the authorities that I don’t feel safe living with you.” The implication was clear. She’d just said she’d accuse him of molesting her.

“You wouldn’t do that to your father!” Mrs. Hendrickson said, speaking for the first time.

“I sure as hell would,” she said, glaring at her mother. “And I’ll make it public. That should sell a few papers.” It was weird, because I hadn’t said a thing; I’d just been standing there. I was pretty amazed at Kristin, and not a little afraid. Man, she was tough. She was ruthless, and mean.

“Perhaps we should discuss this elsewhere,” the other lawyer said. He must be representing the Hendricksons.

My lawyer responded. “As soon as you and your clients make sure that this event never happened as far as my client is concerned, we will be happy to arrange that.” It kind of irritated me that he didn’t even ask me about it, but this wasn’t the time to be bitchy.

The Hendricksons and their attorney huddled out of earshot, so we took the opportunity to do the same. “Barry Goldschmidt,” the guy said, introducing himself. He looked to be in his 50s and he was bald, sporting a pretty big nose. “I’m your lawyer.”

“That’s good to know,” I said, smiling. He didn’t smile back; he was all business.

“This is a bunch of crap,” he said, all pissed off. “We’re going to have this whole incident vanish.”

“Cool,” I said lamely.

“Are you willing to meet with them tomorrow?” he asked Kristin.

“Not alone.”

“We’ll all be there,” he said, reassuring her.

She looked at me, asking me without words if I’d go with her. “What he said,” I assured her.

“It’s a Saturday, but we can arrange it, hopefully in the morning,” he said. He was probably golfing in the afternoon.

“Just let me know when,” she said. It took them an hour to get me cleared out of there, and then we were free to go.

“You were pretty impressive in there,” I said as we got into her car.

“I was pissed off.”

“You were scary,” I said.

“Remember that,” she said, kind of joking, kind of not.

“So the cop on jail duty congratulated me on being engaged,” I said.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said. “It was the story we used to get this whole thing dropped.”

“I thought your parents agreed to it? Isn’t that what we were doing just now?”

“They agreed, reluctantly,” she said, “but the cops still had to have a reason not to press charges.”

“So are you asking me to marry you?” I teased.

“This isn’t funny,” she said, still pissed off.

“I didn’t get an engagement ring or anything,” I groused, determined to bug her until she wasn’t pissed off. “What color are the tuxes?”

“Very funny.”

“That doesn’t matter to me. All I care about is the honeymoon. Where are we going?”

“Gathan,” she said, trying to be serious.

“I’m up for Hawaii. Or do you want to go to the Caribbean?”

“Gathan!”

“Stef said he loves St. Barts. Maybe we should go there,” I said, rambling on.

“This is serious,” she said. I finally got as serious as she was.

“Kristin, here’s the deal. These people are going to try to fuck up our lives. We have to try and enjoy things when we can. Lighten up.”

“Easy for you to say. You didn’t just divorce your parents.”

“It’s not easy for me to say. I kind of know what you mean,” I told her, reminding her of Wally and Clara.

She mellowed. “I guess you do.”

“So you were willing to throw them under the bus for me?”

She gave me a dirty look. “Well, there’s a little more involved than that.” I just looked at her. “Yeah, I was.”

“I love you,” I told her. “If you ask me to marry you, I might say yes.”

“You might say yes?” she demanded, now finally being playful.

“Depends on how well you take care of my carnal needs,” I joked.

“How am I doing so far?” she asked as she ran her hand up my leg.

“Pretty fucking great.” We were actually laughing and joking by the time we got back to the house, and got back into bed.

 

 

July 28, 2000

Rome, Italy

Will

“I love this city,” I said as we strolled past the Trevi fountain. I threw the obligatory coin in, just to make sure that I got to come back.

“I think this city loves you back,” Berto said, and put his arm around me. I was learning how that worked here, where men were much more physically demonstrative. There was a fine line between that, and being romantically intimate, but most people didn’t really give a shit.

“I’m so bummed about leaving,” I said morosely. I guess when Stef had talked to me, Saturday had seemed so distant. That was idiotic, especially now that it was so close. Tomorrow I’d be on a jet, flying back to California, leaving Berto behind.

“Do not let that spoil our last night together,” he said. That got him a smile. “We do not have to go to the club if you do not want to.”

He was nervous about taking me there. Even an idiot could see that, and I was no idiot. “I’m excited. I’ve never been to a club like that before.”

“It is interesting.”

“Why are you nervous about going?”

“I am not nervous,” he lied.

“Right,” I said sarcastically, so he knew I got that he was full of shit.

We walked along in silence, which was rare for Berto, since he was a pretty chatty guy. Like the majority of his countrymen, or so it seemed, I thought with a smile. Just my grinning seemed to cheer him up. We walked to a big square with another beautiful fountain and sat down at a café. “I am nervous about you going,” he said.

“You don’t want to be seen with me?” I asked, throwing my insecurities out on the table. He laughed at that so hard it was almost annoying.

“Not even. Walking in with you makes me look so much more handsome.”

“As if that were possible,” I flirted.

He got serious again. “Sometimes men will strip and it is a prelude to them having sex.” I stared at him, confused. “They do it to display their wares and then go to the backroom.”

“They peacock,” I said, using the slang term.

“Yes, only sometimes they hustle too.” I looked at him pretty hard at that. Was he a hustler?

“Am I jamming your groove?” I had to explain what that meant, which only served to piss him off.

“I am not a hustler,” he said firmly.

“Dude, I’m not trying to bust your balls, I’m just trying to understand what you’re saying.”

He nodded. “I sometimes will go back and have sex if I like the guy, but not for money.”

“Are you going to do that tonight?” I asked, feeling the world falling out from under me.

“No,” he said, frustrated. “I am with you. You are who I want to be with.”

“Good,” I said, and winked at him. “So why are you nervous?”

“I am worried that you will not be ready for that. That when guys grab and grope you, it will upset you.” He took my hand in his. “Especially after what happened to you in Paris.”

Then I got it. What a sweet guy. “Berto, as long as I’m with you, I’m happy. Don’t worry. Besides, who will mess with me, when I have you around?”

“That is true,” he said, with that same fake cockiness that Darius used.

“Let’s go back to the hotel.”

“You are sure?”

“I’m sure,” I told him. We went back to the hotel and he fucked me again. It was pretty much like the first time; just slightly better. We lay there in our post-orgasmic bliss, just dozing. I began to wonder how many times I’d have to get fucked before I actually enjoyed it. I wondered if I’d ever enjoy it. Actually, that was the wrong way to put it. I did enjoy it, just not that much. I certainly didn’t enjoy it as much as Berto. Now that he was used to me, he literally came unglued when I fucked him. It was awesome, both to make him feel that good, and from the sensation of fucking him. It was like his ass was this throbbing membrane wrapped around my dick, designed to milk it dry. This time when he’d fucked me, I’d mimicked some of his moves. That must be what they meant when they talk about faking it. I guess I was like one of those housewives on Jerry Springer who bitched about not getting off and having to pretend for years.

We woke up later than we planned, and rushed around trying to get ready. “Here are clothes for you to wear,” he said as he opened up my closet.

“These?” I asked, as I looked at them disdainfully. I was even more annoyed after I put them on. Long, chic pants, a black shirt that fit me skin tight, and black shoes that were sort of casual, but not athletic. I felt ridiculous.

“You look fantastic,” he said approvingly. His clothes were different. He wore more of a muscle shirt. I got suspicious.

“Did you buy these?”

“No,” he said sheepishly.

“Stefan,” I accused.

“He is a good shopper,” Berto said, running his hand across my ass. “Let us go show him how good you look.”

I grumbled as he led me into the salon. “You look marvelous!” Stef said. He got up and made me do a pirouette in front of him. JP looked at me, as if he was enjoying the fact that I had to wear this crap.

“You dressed me like Kevin,” I said. JP chuckled.

“That is a compliment. Kevin is exquisite.”

“Yeah, but I’m not Kevin,” I said.

“But you are still exquisite,” Berto said, winking at me.

“Whatever,” I said, being grumpy because the clothes were so unfamiliar. I was standing there, a hand on my hip, glaring at both of them, when a flash went off.

“For posterity,” JP said as he put his camera away. “Or maybe blackmail.”

“You’re hilarious,” I said, deadpan. I rolled my eyes and grabbed Berto’s hand, leading him out of the suite, and off to this club.

“You do look good,” he said.

“Thanks. I’m just not used to wearing clothes like this.”

“You will find that as you get older, you will have club clothes. That is what they are. It is funny to see people dressed like this in the morning, because that means they did not go home that night.”

“Well, if I’m dressed like this, I guess I’d better work it,” I joked, and did a horrible fake actress walk. That made us both laugh as we headed off to the club.