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Related article: Date: Sat, 07 Jul 2001 17:35:28 +0000
From: hobby391att.net
Subject: Boy from the High Country Chapter 3BOY FROM THE HIGH COUNTRYChapter 3by Hobbyboyhobby391att.netDISCLAIMER: This story depicts a sexual relationship between an
underage boy and an adult male. If you are offended by such
material, or if it is illegal for you to read such stories in your state or
country, consider this your warning. You are solely responsible for
the consequences if you continue reading. This is a work of fiction.
The narrator is a fictionalized version of the author. Everyone else is a
complete fabrication. Even the road map of Wyoming is fictionalized:
Yellowstone is farther from I-90 than the events in this story suggest.
This is a story, not a geography lesson. It is also not just an excuse
for a series of steamy sex scenes. If you are looking for instant jack-
off material, you won't want to bother with this story.COMMENT ON PREVIOUS CHAPTERS: There were a few typos in
Chapter 2. The reference to the highway US 20 should be US 14. The
others errors are easy to spot and correct. I've gotten a couple of e-mails
asking for more description of the physical surroundings. My smart-ass
reply is: Come on, it's
preteen asian vids WYOMING. Closer to the truth is: I'm trying to
keep the story from getting too long. Also: I'm not that great as a fiction
writer. I'm a writer, but I've never tried fiction before.ABOUT THE STEP PARENTS: Social
preteen boy butts historians estimate that in
the early 1800s, because of the short life expectancy, one child in
four in the USA was living with unrelated adults. It still happens
today. The version in this chapter, of a boy living with both step-
siblings and foster children, with the step- parents' biological kids
being the favored ones, is a slightly exaggerated version of the story
of a real student who came through one of
preteen pedo fre my classes about fifteen
years ago.CHAPTER 3: KELLY'S STORYIt was the middle of the afternoon, and McD's was nearly empty.
There was no reason not to let Kelly go ahead with his story."I don't think anybody will be looking for me," he began. "At least
they never have before.""You mean this isn't the first time you have run away?""I didn't really run away this time. But I have before. The other times
they never even tried to find out where I was. As long as the checks
kept coming they didn't give a shit.""Kelly, I'm getting lost here. What checks? And who are 'they'? Your
parents?"He gave a great sigh and his shoulders sagged as if they were
carrying a forty pound weight. "I don't have any parents," he said.
"My mom died when I was born. When I was about two years old I
guess, my dad got married again. A real bitch. I hate her. Then when
I was eight my dad got cancer and he died. I remember that day I
wanted to go to the hospital but The Bitch wouldn't let me. She made
me go to school. They had to get me out of class to tell me he was
dead. About six months after that she married that asshole Frank. He
was banging her already while dad was in the hospital." For a nice
kid, Kelly certainly had some vocabulary. We could work on his foul
mouth later, maybe. Come to think of it, he really didn't have a foul
mouth. He saved all his dirty words for talking about his step parents.
I couldn't take away his anger, so I would let him have his outbursts."I'm sorry to hear about your parents, Kelly. So that left you living
with...""My step dad and my step mom. I'm not actually related to either one
of them.""Has either one of them ever adopted you?""Hell, no. They have kids of their own. They're just my, I don't know,
guardians or something. This way the state pays them the same as it
would if I were a foster kid. If they adopted me they'd lose the
money. They actually have other
preteen nice girls foster kids, too. They spend all the
money on their own kids. She has two daughters, spoiled bitches
both of them. He has a son. He's seventeen. He's big, he plays high
school football, and he's a dumb jock if there ever was one. He's the
one who... I mean, he's a bully, too, always pushing me around. You
know what's kind of funny?""What?""Their name is Foster. Can you believe it? Mr. and Mrs. Foster, the
foster parents.""You don't use the Foster name, I guess.""No. They tried to make me, but I won't. My dad was Walter
Grayson, so that's me, Kelly Grayson."By this time my head was spinning. One thing I've learned from
working with people this age is that you have to let them tell their
stories in their own way. Usually they have not had time to put it all
together in any kind of logical order, so they pour out a lot of
disconnected details. You have to work to get it all to make sense.
So far, this was sounding like a male version of Cinderella, a young
kid replaced by his wicked step sisters, and in this case a step
brother. Kelly didn't seem like a whiner to me. I sensed that there
was a lot more to this
peachfuzz preteen story."Kelly, don't tell me you ran away because your step sisters got
treated better than you."Oops. That one backfired. Kelly crossed his arms and
photos preteen nudist sat in stony
silence. Time to try another tack. "How many times have you run
away, Kelly?""Twice before.""Why?"Kelly bit his lower lip. He bit it hard. I couldn't tell whether his
expression of pain came from the bite, or from the memory he was
struggling with. "I don't think I can tell you," he said finally."It's that bad?""Yeah. It's bad.""Is it bad for all the kids?""Most of them. Especially for... it's bad."There was a pause. "Do you want to tell me any more?"Another great sigh. "Their real kids have their own bedrooms
upstairs. Me and the foster kids - there are five of them - all have to
share two rooms in the basement. There's one bathroom for all six of
us. We do the dishes, we do the laundry, we mow the lawn, we do
everything, and their own kids just sit on their fat asses and do
nothing."This time I knew enough to remain silent. Once Kelly's pity party was
over, he might get to what was really bothering him. "But that isn't the
worst part," he said. "The worst part is..." Again the melancholy look,
the hard bite on the lower lip. "I can't tell you."I decided to sidestep the issue. Instead I asked, "Does anybody ever
check up on you
black preteens fucked and the foster kids?"He gave a contemptuous snort. "The stupid case worker comes
around once in a while.""Can't you tell her what's going on?"Kelly was becoming agitated. "It a him, not a her, and no, I can't tell
him.""Why not?""Because the fucking case worker is her fucking brother-in-law,
okay?" He was shouting now. An elderly woman with blue hair three
tables away glared at us. The restaurant manager started around the
end of the counter. I made a placating gesture, and she backed off,
but her look clearly said, "One more outburst and you are out of
here.""Kelly," I said, "I know you're angry, and that's okay, but I hate to
hear you using that kind of language. And we're in a public place. If
you do that again, they'll kick us out."With his anger vented, though, Kelly was returning almost to normal.
He sat back down and stared out the window, morose and sullen. I
decided preteen russians magazin
to try one more time."What happened the other times you ran away?""I stayed with friends - with a friend. They never even tried to find
out where I was.""Your step parents?""Yeah. They knew I didn't have any place to go. As soon as my
friend's parents got tired of my being there, I'd have to go back.""And is that what happened?""Yeah. I was gone about three weeks the first time. The second time
they put up with me for six weeks. I was afraid to go back. But I had
to."Something pretty traumatic had happened to this kid. There was a lot
of fear, and there were things he just did not want to tell me. Maybe
there would be time for those things later, maybe not. Right now, I
just had to make sure that my ass wasn't going to be in a sling. "You
say you didn't run away this time, Kelly.""No.""Then what happened?""He
preteen ejaculation threw me out.""Your stepfather told you to leave?""No, he threw me out. He picked me up by the belt and threw me
out the front door onto the lawn. I'm just glad I landed on the grass
instead of on the sidewalk. About one minute later he threw out my
back pack. I'd just come back from a sleepover at my friend
Freddie's house, so I had a few clothes in there.""Did he say anything?""He said, 'Get
preteen ejaculation the hell out of here and go stay with one of your faggot
friends.'" A look of horror came over Kelly's face and he went
suddenly white, then flushed a deep red. He stared down at his
hands, then shakily got to his feet. "I'll go now," he said, and started
toward the door.I beat him there and blocked his way. His hands came up, defending
against the blow he obviously expected. Instead I gripped his arms
just below the shoulders.
preteen russians magazin "It's okay, Kelly," I said. "I don't care. It's
going to be all right."When I was a child I had a toy,
preteen images videos a little horse made of beads held
together by a kind of elastic thread. The horse was on a small
pedestal, and on the bottom of the pedestal was a button. When you
pushed up on the button, the elastic went slack and the bead horse
collapsed. That's what happened to Kelly. He went suddenly limp,
and I was barely able to keep him from falling. I pulled him tightly
against my body to keep him upright, and after a moment his arms
locked around my waist and he held on for dear life. He didn't cry,
he didn't whimper, he just held on like a drowning man clinging
dolls gothic preteen to a
life preserver. The old lady with the blue hair did not approve.When Kelly's knees
pre teens vulvas began to work once more, I shifted my arm into
a protective circle around his shoulders. "Come on, champ," I said.
"Let's get back on the road."I helped Kelly up into the cab of the pickup. His legs
brazilian preteens model were still
wobbly, and he nearly lost his balance. As I reached forward to
support him, I suddenly found my hands cupping the cheeks of his
little butt. He looked back over his left shoulder and grinned at me.
This time it was my
preteen lusty girls turn to blush. I let go as quickly as I could, but
my hands carried a kind of tactile memory. As I walked around to
the driver's side I could still feel the warm firmness of his rounded
ass. For a moment I thought I was
preteen lusty girls going to get hard again, but the
feeling passed and I breathed a sigh of relief.Once behind the wheel, I found myself staring at my cell phone.
"Kelly," I said, "I need to make a couple of calls." He looked
apprehensive. "If you've been telling me the truth, and I assume you
have, this won't be a problem," I assured him. I picked up the phone
and called 4-1-1. "Wyoming state police, non-emergency number," I
said when directory assistance answered. I saw the panic on Kelly's
face, and realized how stupid
preteen russians magazin I had been. "Don't worry, Kelly," I
said, reaching out to pat his preteen images videos
hand. "Just listen. It will be okay, I
promise." I had patted his hand, but he was holding on. The touch of
his hand in mine was delicious. I discovered to my surprise that I did
not want to let go, so I made a quick change of plan. "Yes, you can
dial that for me," I said. What would that cost, an extra buck? In a
moment I found myself talking with a Patrolman Herbert."My name is August Wilson," I said, the first name that popped to
mind. Kelly looked up at me in surprise, and I winked at him to show
it was a deliberate lie. I hoped the patrolman didn't go to the theatre
much. August Wilson was the author of the last play I had seen
before leaving Portland. "I'm a tourist from Seattle, and I'm a little bit
worried about something. This morning outside of Casper" (Casper
was a hundred and fifty miles in the other direction) "I gave a kid a
ride between two rest stops. He was a teenager, really. He had a
good reason for being there, I guess, but I started wondering if he
might be a runaway or something. His name was Kelly something,
Graham I think, or Grayling - no, that's a fish - Grayson, that was it,
Kelly Grayson. Because if he's been reported missing or anything...
Okay, I'll wait... Well, I'll give you my number in preteen russians magazin
Portland, I check
for messages every day. It's 503-829-5414. Thank you, officer."I pushed the "end" button on the cell phone, and stared impassively at
Kelly. Finally I couldn't hold the serious look any longer and I broke
into a wide grin. "Well, the cops aren't looking for you.""Told ya," Kelly replied, a
preteen images videos mischievous twinkle in his eye."I know, I know." My expression turned serious again. "Now comes
the tough one. I'm going to need the Foster's phone number." Kelly
looked like he was about to cry. "Did I do all right on the call to the
cops?" I asked. He nodded dumbly. "Then trust me on this one,
okay?"He
usenet free preteen reluctantly gave me his stepfather's number, and I once more
picked up the cell phone. The call to the Fosters
preteen teenies pix was not a pleasant
one. The step dad said some very nasty things about Kelly, ending
with, "Tell the little faggot that if I see him again there'll be a boot
preteen pandaboard up
his ass instead of a dick." By the time I hung up I was in a state of
mild shock. One thing was clear: the Fosters would not be reporting
Kelly missing. The boy was holding my hand again, squeezing so
hard that it hurt. I had neglected to tell him the news."We're in the clear," I told him. "I hate to say it, but they couldn't care
less what happens to you. I think that gives us enough time to figure
out what to do. Now, let's get this show on the road."We didn't talk much the rest of the way to Cody. It was a two-lane
highway so I had to concentrate on driving. Kelly held my hand most
of the way, and I didn't want to
preteen baby naked let go. I did find out a few more
things about him. He really was from Casper, and had somehow
managed to hitchhike to the rest stop outside of Sheridan. He was
vague about the deatils. He was fourteen years old, and going into
ninth grade. His grades were good, though he had never had much
time to study, and he was worried that freshman year would be a lot
harder. We avoided talking about the future, and he still was not
ready to talk about what had really happened with his step parents.I learned one more thing as we approached the city of Cody. "I
knew a kid named Cody once," he said. I waited. "Well, I didn't
exactly know him. I read about him on the Internet." He blushed, and
fell silent. Aha, thought I. The Nifty archive, no doubt. I did not
mention my suspicions to Kelly.I had phoned in a reservation to the last RV park before the
Yellowstone east entrance. Although it was the height of the tourist
season, the park was less tha half
xxx preteen boys full. At the registration desk, which
doubled as the reservation desk for a small restaurant, the friendly
desk clerk ventured that the high price of gasoline was keeping the
tourists away. That was fine with me. Yellowstone was always too
crowded anyway, from what I had heard. What did I know? I had
only been there once, when I was Kelly's age. And speaking of
Kelly, I realized I had to explain his presence somehow, so thinking
fast but none too clearly, I introduced him as my nephew, Kelly
Grayson. He didn't miss a beat. "Come on, Uncle Art," he said.
"Let's get the camper set up."Next: Chapter 4, Bedtime
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