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Subject: Jeramie LeCleaux Chapter 9 Jeramie LeCleaux Boyslut Detective Case File 009 The Case of the Rear Window Witness Written by Daddy-Chief Feel free to donate to Nifty so that stories keep fty/donate.html Synopsis: Jeramie LeCleaux is a ten-year old kid detective and slut puppy. When trouble strikes, he uses his wits and his well-trained boypussy to root out clues and interrogate suspects. During an illicit tryst, Jeramie spots what he thinks might be a robbery happening in the house next door. But time is not on the slut puppy’s side. Jeramie must crack the case fast if he wants to finish what he started–to say nothing of finishing fifth grade! ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ Jeramie LeCleaux opened his eyes slowly. Sunlight from the bedroom window spilled over into the master bedroom. The beam stretched across the floor, moving up the side of the bed and into the covers. It was as if the light were trying to touch him. The eleven-year old smiled. He was lying naked in his father’s bed. The covers had slipped off of him at some point, showcasing his lithe little cherubic body and coltish legs. Jeramie stretched, wiggling his tender, exposed toes in the warm stream of sun that brushed against them. The house felt quiet. He had awoken to find himself alone in the great big bed that he shared with his detective father. Bryce LeCleaux’s side of the bed had already grown cold. Jeramie brushed his fingers against it and a small sadness blossomed in his heart. He always preferred waking up to Daddy’s warm body. His father would have Jeramie wrapped up in both of his muscular arms. Jeramie would feel the thick carpet of hair adorning Daddy’s chest brush against him. He would listen to Daddy’s heartbeat and the steady rhythmic breathing. That was, to Jeramie’s little mind, the best way of starting the day off. Something sticky clung to his fingertips. It was not uncommon to find semi-dried fluids in their bed. Daddy was a heavy cummer, after all. Anything that didn’t stay inside of Jeramie’s tight hole would leak out during the night. This was unusual, though, because it felt more like glue than dried cum. Looking down, Jeramie saw a post-it note. The sticky stripe on the back had stuck it to his hand. Curious, he peeled the yellow paper off. There was writing on it. Had to leave early. Emergency at work. Left you present under pillow. See you tonight. Love, Daddy! A smile spread quickly over Jeramie’s face. He placed the sticky note on the bedside table–though, it took a couple of tries to get it off his fingers. The sticky stripe was living up to it’s name! Once done, Jeramie wiped the sleep from his eyes. An excitement was bubbling up from deep inside. The more awake he became, the more anxious he felt. His hands dug deep underneath the pillows, searching frantically. One hand closed around what felt like an elastic strap. Jeramie’s grin grew broader as he withdrew his prize. In his hand, he held one of the bikini briefs that Jeramie had bought his father for Valentine’s Day a couple of months back. This one was deep red with a black elastic band. It reeked of his father’s musky crotch, which was undoubtedly why Daddy LeCleaux had left it for him. Jeramie held the underwear up to his nose, moaning as he breathed in deeply. There was nothing better in all the world than his father’s scent. It sent shivers through his little body. The house was cool due to the air conditioner running. Daddy had turned it down before he left, it seemed. As Jeramie breathed in, though, he could feel his body warming up. His little cunt hole tensed and flexed, begging to be filled. “Mmm,” Jeramie moaned, growing frustrated as he fingered himself. “Why’d Daddy have to tease me? Leaving a present like this behind. Now I gotta wait for him to come home tonight…” Jeramie knew that he should get up. It was a very special day, after all. Today was the last day of fifth grade. For Jeramie and his friends, it was also their last day of elementary school. Pembrooke Falls always threw a ceremony for the kids who were leaving to go to middle school in the fall. The adults liked to call it `graduation’, which was a little silly. The middle school was just across the street, after all. It would be a few years yet before Jeramie transferred over to the high school across town. “Mmmm!” Jeramie said, huffing on the briefs in his hand. “Daddy…” None of that was important right now, though. Jeramie could feel his body waking up. Daddy’s smell was better than coffee, something that adults usually needed to start their morning. For him, though, it was the rich, impossibly masculine fragrance that rolled off his father’s body each and every day. Jeramie lived by it. He needed to smell it before he went out the door. “Fuck me, Daddy,” Jeramie whispered, as if by speaking he could summon his father back to bed for a long, deep-dicking session. During the night, Jeramie’s hole had closed up a bit. Despite this, however, he was able to work three fingers inside. Jeramie could feel his cunt muscles clamping down as his fingers moved in and out, stimulating his boypussy. “More!” he demanded, even though he was alone. There was always the dildo that Daddy kept in the drawer. They liked to play around with stuff from that store just outside of town near the highway. Daddy had gone by himself to pick up a few things that he thought Jeramie would like. Jeramie did enjoy having different things stuffed inside of him. He and Daddy would make a game out of it, seeing just how big they could get his hole to stretch. This morning was different, though. His body had gone into a lustful state of boy heat. Jeramie needed–demanded–real cock. Nothing else would satisfy him. If he didn’t get fucked, Jeramie would have to spend the rest of the day horny, and who knew what he might do if it came to that! “Fuuuucckkkk.” Jeramie let the extremely naughty word–the dirtiest of words that even Ricky dare not say–roll off his tongue. “Daddy…..” He could feel the heat inside of his hole intensify. Working three fingers in and out of his sloppy, used cunt wasn’t helping. If anything, Jeramie could feel his boypussy tighten. Despite the deep drilling that Daddy had given him last night, Jeramie needed more. His body insisted on being filled before school, even if there was no one around who could satisfy him. It looked like he was going to have to make due with one of the toys after all. “Uhh,” Jeramie grunted as he pulled his fingers free. It was a quick crawl over to the bedside dresser. Jeramie lay on all fours, wobbling a little as he used one hand to pull the topmost drawer open. There was a nice-sized dildo, not as big as Daddy, but still capable of getting the job done. Jeramie liked this particular one because it was flexible. Grabbing a bottle of lube as well, Jeramie lay back on the bed. He made sure to position himself so that he was near Daddy’s pillow. Daddy would come home later on in the evening and find the puddle there. He would know what little Jeramie had been up to. It might make him extra horny, which was Jeramie’s whole plan. “Slow and steady,” Jeramie whispered to himself as the head eased inside. “Go slow at first. Just like Daddy said.” Jeramie’s body, however, had different ideas. His hole gripped at the tip of the dildo, pulling it inside. It felt as if his whole body was getting in on the act, trying to suction the silicone replica all the way. “Mmm!” Jeramie felt his body jump as the first inch or so slid inside. “Fuck me!” Bending his body in half, Jeramie reached down to get a better grip. In a moment, he was working the first several inches in and out. Sure enough, though, it wasn’t enough. Jeramie could feel the heat building. He felt his body stretching to take the girthy tool all the way inside. He needed to get fucked by a real cock, but this was going to have to do. “Just a little more,” he decided, working another inch into him. It stung a bit, but he kept right on breathing and powered through. “Ugh, now it itches worse!” He could feel it deep down. The place that needed the most attention was too far for the dildo to reach. Frustrated, Jeramie pushed down hard, forcing as much of it as he could inside. Sweat broke out on his forehead. His breathe came in gasps. Jeramie felt his body rise and fall, trying to get the whole thing in. He wanted to at least touch that aching spot inside where Daddy’s cock normally passed by while fucking him even deeper. It was calling out, begging for release. But the dildo wouldn’t reach, no matter what. Jeramie tried a few other positions. He got on all fours, then on his side, before sitting all the way down on the edge of the bed with the dildo lodged right up his cunt. Nothing worked. “Dammit!” Jeramie swore in frustration, getting mad. Nevertheless, he rode the dildo as high and as fast as he could. It had been twenty minutes already. The May morning was moving by fast. Jeramie didn’t have a lot of time left. “Just a little more,” he kept telling himself. “Just a little… more!” Something happened, then, but not inside of his little faggot cunt. Jeramie’s eyes flew open. He thought that he had heard a noise downstairs. Going very still, Jeramie waited and listened. The sound came again. It was the front doorbell. “Must be Ricky,” Jeramie said, unable to hide the irritation he felt. “Great timing, buddy. You couldn’t have waited ten more minutes?” In truth, Jeramie was glad to hear his friend stop by. Things between them had been weird for a while now. It had started when Ricky caught Jeramie getting fucked by Daddy LeCleaux. Ricky had felt jealous because Jeramie hadn’t told him. The reason, of course, had been because Jeramie’s Dad forbade him from telling anyone and everyone. It was their biggest secret, and the only way to keep it secret was if nobody else knew. Eventually, Ricky had come to see the wisdom in that. He was still mad, but was willing to accept it. Moreover, he wanted to be a part of it. Ricky had liked what he saw. He wanted to experience what Daddy LeCleaux felt like for himself. The problem there was that Jeramie’s Dad was not for beginners. Yes, Jeramie could do it, but he had been trained for a couple of years first. He had practiced until he got real good at taking adult male cock. Ricky had no such experience. Jeramie had tried explaining it, and when that didn’t work, showed Ricky what he meant. Ricky had been amicable enough, but the problem with Jeramie’s best friend was that he was often impatient. In the end, Ricky had sought out Jeramie’s father on his own. It hadn’t gone badly. If anything, Ricky had developed a bit of a fixation for big cocks like the one Daddy LeCleaux had. Then, something had happened at their shared birthday party. It turned out that Ricky’s uncle was actually his biological father. That had been a whole mess. Ricky ended up running away with his Dad on the big semi-truck that the man drove. Jeramie had seen it in the road right before they took off. He’d lucked out and been able to place a tracker on it. Something in his gut had told him that Ricky would need his help eventually. And they had. Ricky and his father had wound up getting captured. It was thanks to Ricky being able to call Jeramie for help that saved the day. His Dad had gotten out all right as well. Now, the two were going to live together. Mrs. Baxter wasn’t exactly thrilled, but she had relented. It was her idea to share custody, but Ricky was getting to live with his biological father for the time being. Her only stipulation had been that Ricky finish elementary school first. Things were rough, but life had more or less settled back into a routine. The boys were on good terms again. Ricky was sad to leave Jeramie behind, but happy to be moving in with his father. He really wanted to get to know the man better, and–so Ricky had confided to Jeramie–had his fingers crossed that they’d have the sort of relationship that Jeramie had with his own Dad. Jeramie was sad to lose his best friend, but happy for him at the same time. Since then, Ricky hadn’t come over to the LeCleaux household as much. Once upon a time, Ricky had been such a regular there that it felt as if he was practically another member. Now, though, the house felt lonelier. It was especially hard on days like today when Jeramie’s Dad had to get up early for work. Thinking that he and his buddy might get to spend some extra time together before school, Jeramie dressed in a rush. He slid on a pair of underwear and shirt before rushing off downstairs as fast as his little legs could carry him. The doorbell rang again, and was followed by some insistent knocking. “Coming!” Jeramie cried out as he rounded the corner that separated the living room from the dining area. “I’m coming!” Using the rug, Jeramie slid across the kitchen floor. His little paws reached up to grab hold of the knob. This brought him to a stop, and he took a deep breathe before throwing it open. “Not yet,” said a deep, rich voice, “but I’m hoping you will be pretty soon.” It was not Ricky. Standing in the door frame was Coach Ramirez. “Coach…” Jeramie croaked, feeling very apprehensive all of a sudden. “Wh… what are you doing here?” “Can’t a coach stop by to check up on one of his students?” Coach Ramirez wore a cheeky smirk as he pushed his way in. “I knew your Dad wasn’t at home. His car’s not in the driveway.” The door slammed shut behind Coach, who strode calmly past Jeramie into the kitchen. “So I thought I’d see if you needed a ride.” “I can walk,” Jeramie replied, sounding a little less than happy. “And I have my bike.” “Oh, I see.” Coach stopped, turning around at the dining table to rake his eyes up and down over Jeramie’s half-dressed little form. “Then I guess you don’t need anything at all from me, huh?” Jeramie watched as Coach reached down to pull at the crotch of his pants. A lump formed in the eleven-year old’s throat. Against his will, his eyes were drawn down to the bulge there. Jeramie could see the outline of Coach’s cock plainly. Coach’s smile grew bigger. He knew the effect he was having. Reaching further down, he hefted up his balls and gave them a squeeze through the fabric. Jeramie swallowed. “My Dad’s…” “Gone,” Coach Ramirez finished. “I know.” There was a lot being left unsaid. A part of Jeramie was annoyed. This was his and Daddy’s private space. The house was where they went to get away from work and school, to be together. Sure, Jeramie shared that with Ricky, but the boy next door was an exception. Coach Ramirez had come over uninvited. He had barged in without even waiting to be asked, and that was very rude. On the other hand, Jeramie’s body was still desperately craving real cock. The doorbell had distracted him momentarily, but now that Coach was standing in the kitchen, he could focus on little else. It didn’t help that Coach was deliberately teasing him. Jeramie could see the whole outline of the older man’s cock underneath the fabric of his jeans. They looked tight enough to tear. Jeramie knew there was enough cock inside those jeans to keep a boyslut satisfied for days, or even weeks! “I…” Jeramie realized he’d been about to step toward Coach. Getting a grip on himself, he forced the foot back. “I don’t think now’s such a good…” Coach waited, still rubbing his crotch invitingly. “Time?” he offered, finishing the sentence. “Yeah.” Jeramie swallowed the lump in his throat again. “Ricky’s… he should be here soon.” Coach took one step forward, still holding himself inside of his jeans. “You could just not answer the door,” he offered temptingly. “Play hooky for one day. Pretend you’re sick.” The idea had already been circling around in the back of Jeramie’s head. Ricky had nudged him into doing that before. According to his best friend, every boy needed a little extra time off once in a while. It had become a tradition for them to fake a cold and spend the day playing video games together. “Every boy needs a day for himself once in a while,” Coach said, echoing Ricky’s words inside Jeramie’s head. “We could have fun together. Just the two of us.” Coach was standing in front of Jeramie now. His crotch was at eye level. Jeramie could see the fibers in Ramirez’s jeans. They were indeed straining against the pressure of such a huge, thick cock trying to get out. “No Shaffeur,” Coach added, releasing the hold on himself. Jeramie felt his throat go dry as Coach reached up, using one hand to slide the zipper down. The white of his underwear peeked out through the opening. Jeramie’s nostrils were suddenly filled with the rich, warm fragrance of male musk. “No Ricky,” Coach went on, burning holes into Jeramie with his gaze. The same hand undid the button at the top of his jeans. They flew open with a snap, which sound loud enough to be mistaken for a crack of thunder in the silence of the kitchen. Coach’s fly hug wide open. The thick bulge held in check by his white briefs hung over the edge. Unconsciously, Jeramie licked his lips. His fingers twitched, aching to touch it. Every part of his body was on fire. He had been craving cock since waking up, and now it was right in front of him. Still, something about it felt wrong. Jeramie had never brought another man into his house before. He knew the dangers, and there were rules as well. The only exception had been when three burglars broke in on Christmas, and no one had invited them. They had broken in without permission. Coach may have pushed his way through, but Jeramie hadn’t told him to leave yet. It would be easy enough. If Coach tried to resist, Jeramie knew what to do. He just had to get to the phone and dial the Sheriff’s office. Despite that, he hadn’t moved. His gaze was fixated on the thick bulge coming out of those tight white briefs. The smell was getting stronger now. Jeramie’s eyes watered from it. “Maybe,” he moaned, feeling how thick his words were on the edge of his tongue. “Maybe… we shouldn’t. You should… go?” He hadn’t meant it as a question. That was a mistake. “You sure about that?” Coach asked, jutting his crotch just a little closer to the eleven-year old boy. “You don’t want to play hooky today?” “I don’t…” Jeramie hesitated. “I mean…” It was too hard for him to think. The water in his eyes spilled out over the edges, rolling down the sides of his face. Jeramie wiped his cheeks quickly, hoping Coach wouldn’t see. “I want…” he tried again feebly. Coach raised his hands, undoing the top button of his shirt. “I think I know what it is you really want, boy.” His voice was thick with need as his hands moved down to the second button. “Coach has a pretty good idea there.” Jeramie’s little chest rose and fell as he watched, hypnotized by the sight. “I…” A pair of fists banged on the front door. The sound shattered the spell inside the kitchen to pieces. Both Coach and Jeramie nearly jumped out of their skins. “Jeramie!” called out an impatient voice. “You in there?” Shaking his head, Jeramie turned around. “It’s Ricky,” he said, moving slowly toward the door. “Find a place to hide. He shouldn’t see you here!” Jeramie reached the knob and started to turn it, but then thought better. Looking over his shoulder, he found the kitchen was empty. Coach had done as he asked and found a hiding spot. Feeling relieved, Jeramie turned the knob the rest of the way. “Hey Ricky,” he said to his best friend. “Good morning.” Ricky was already dressed for school. He had on a pair of cross trainers, some new jeans, and a short-sleeved shirt with Bart Simpson on the front. A backpack sporting the Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers was slung over one shoulder. Ever since finding out about his real Dad, Ricky had been dressing in much cooler clothes. His biological father had no qualms about spoiling him, unlike Mrs. Baxter. Each week, there was a new delivery for the Baxter house with Ricky’s name on it. Ricky was loving the attention too. He’d been forced to babysit his two younger siblings for years. Being the sole recipient of his birth father’s affection had given him a new confidence. He walked a little taller nowadays, something Jeramie was proud of him for. And maybe even just a little bit jealous of, secretly. “You’re not dressed,” Ricky noted at once. “C’mon. We’re gonna be late!” “I…” Jeramie hesitated. “I’m not feeling so good,” he blurted out. “Can you go on ahead of me and tell the teacher that I’ll be late?” The words had come before he could stop them. Jeramie tried his best to rationalize his impulsive decision. He couldn’t very well bring Ricky into the house while Coach was there. That would require some explaining. Plus, it was unlikely that Ricky would respond well if he found out about Coach and he, given the way Ricky had reacted when he learned about Jeramie and his Dad. “You sure?” Ricky’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Is this a `playing sick’ thing? Because if you’re staying home on the last day of school, so am I!” “No,” Jeramie answered fast. “The truth is… I overslept. I stayed in bed too long and wasn’t ready. I’ll be along soon. I just need more time to get ready.” Ricky’s face relaxed then. “You should’ve just said so, dude.” His friend’s voice was sympathetic, which sent pangs of guilt through Jeramie’s heart. “Sure, I’ll make up a good excuse.” With that, Ricky turned and left. Jeramie stood in the door frame watching his best friend go. It dawned on him that they wouldn’t have any more walks to school after today. Ricky was moving across the state line to live with his Dad. He’d be starting school there while Jeramie continued his education at the local middle school. “Ricky!” he called out. His best friend stopped halfway down the walkway. “What?” Ricky asked, sounding a little annoyed as he turned. Jeramie hesitated. “I’ll hurry,” he said. “But I’ll be there, okay?” “Sure.” Ricky smiled. “No worries, buddy.” Tears rolled silently down Jeramie’s cheeks as he watched his best friend walk away. He stood in the door frame the whole time, keeping a silent vigil while Ricky moved up along the street. It wasn’t until his best friend was out of sight that Jeramie shut the door. Behind him, the kitchen was still empty. Jeramie checked to make sure the door was locked, then washed and dried his face at the kitchen sink. “Coach?” he called out. There was no answer. “Coach?” Jeramie tried again, moving through the dining area and into the living room. “Are you there, Coach?” The house felt still. Jeramie walked through the first floor, peeking around corners as if in search of an intruder. His nerve endings were on edge. Every part of his body reached out, scrambling for some clue. There was no sign of Coach in the living room. The hall and rear foyer were vacant as well. That meant Coach had either slipped out the back or gone upstairs. Jeramie had a growing suspicion as to which one it was. Softly, he moved up the stairs, taking each step one at a time. Once on the landing, Jeramie heard a sound come from his father’s room. Growing angry again, the eleven-year old crept across the carpet. When he peeked around the corner, however, Coach Ramirez was nowhere to be found. “Coach?” Jeramie called out. Once more, there was no answer. It didn’t look like the bed had been disturbed. The pair of string bikini briefs were still lying amid the covers. Jeramie’s face flushed when he saw the dildo and bottle of lube. He’d left both out, giving no thought to them when he’d rushed downstairs. Worse, the dildo was still slick with his cunt juices. “Good thing Coach didn’t see this,” Jeramie muttered, covering up both with the bed sheets. “Otherwise, he might have questions.” This left his bedroom and the guest bedroom down the upstairs hallway. It didn’t sound like Coach was anywhere nearby, however. The second floor was quiet. “Huh,” Jeramie said thoughtfully to himself. “Maybe he did leave.” Nevertheless, Jeramie had every intention of checking just to be sure. At one time, he might have let it go. Ever since those three escaped convicts broke in, though, Jeramie had become more cautious. He wasn’t going to leave someone like Coach Ramirez alone in his house. There were still things Coach might stumble upon. That was the last thing Jeramie wanted. Furthermore, he needed to make sure that his home was secure. Once that was finished, Jeramie could throw some clothes on and catch up with Ricky. They still had some time before school started. It was their last day together. Jeramie would rather spend it with Ricky than smelly ol’ Coach Ramirez anyhow. “Gotcha!” Jeramie let out a high-pitched squeal as a pair of strong hands seized him from behind. His little legs kicked hard as he felt himself being raised up into the air. It was all for nothing, though. Whoever held him was strong and secure. “Now you’re all mine!” Jeramie found himself airborne. His little limbs flailed on instinct. For a moment, his body felt impossibly light. Gravity ceased to exist. All of that ended when he came crashing down onto the mattress. Jeramie bounced twice before he managed to steady himself, and he stared up at his attacker. Before he even saw their face, the eleven-year old sleuth knew who it was. “Coach!” he cried out, furious. Coach Ramirez threw his head back and laughed. “You should’ve seen your face,” he said, grinning like the cat who ate the cream. “It was priceless!” Jeramie noticed that the Coach was almost naked. He had stripped himself down to nothing but a pair of briefs. A second look revealed that they were, in fact, the string bikini briefs that belonged to Detective LeCleaux. “Those are my Dad’s,” he pointed out, getting indignant. “I know,” Coach replied cheekily, giving one of the elastic bands a sharp snap. “I remember the day you bought them. It was when we were in the changing stall together.” Jeramie’s face blushed. “I washed them,” he revealed, sitting up on the bed. “After I got home.” “That makes sense,” Coach said, though his face betrayed that he wasn’t exactly thrilled to learn this. “Be honest, though. You’re glad to see me wearing them again, aren’t you?” Privately, Jeramie could not deny that Coach filled out the string bikini briefs very well. His package made the front stick out and hang down. Coach wasn’t fully hard yet, but the sight of the thick bulge made Jeramie drool. “C’mere,” Coach said, raising one arm up. “I know you miss it.” A thick pit full of wet hair filled little Jeramie’s eyes. The smell from it filled the air around them. Jeramie’s cunt hole spasmed. The heat and the need returned in full force, like a dam had broke inside of his body. He could feel his boypussy lubing itself up. Jeramie’s small chest rose and fell. His eyes started to glaze over. Coach stared down as the transformation took hold. Jeramie’s instincts were coming out. Whatever he might have thought, the boy needed to get fucked, and that had been Coach’s plan from the start. “Yeah,” Coach said in a softer voice. “You’ve needed this, haven’t you?” His free hand began caressing his hairy chest and nipples, giving each of them a flick before moving down along the treasure trail toward his crotch. “I know a good boyslut when I see one,” he went on, rubbing the front of his bulge where a wet spot was forming. “Been three whole months since I last pumped you full of my cum.” A whine escaped from Jeramie’s throat. It came unbidden, unwanted, but loud enough for Coach to hear. Jeramie felt his body lean forward, wanting to get closer to the hairy hunk of a man in front of him. It was like being lost in a fog. His head felt clouded. Jeramie didn’t want to give his Coach so much control, but at the moment, he was riding a wave of need. It had been inside of him since he woke up. Now, Coach was shaking the seabed so that it rose up into a full-blown tsunami. “Just the two of us,” Coach whispered, bending down to move his pit closer to Jeramie’s flaring nostrils. “Together. Pushing you up against that mirror…” Jeramie inhaled, letting the Coach’s male essence travel through the space between them to fill his lungs. “Me fucking you…” He could feel his boycunt spread wide open, aching to be filled. “Not stopping…” Jeramie’s eyes watered over. He could feel what little there was left of him falling away, letting the primal need roaring inside of him past. “Not stopping,” Coach repeated, pulling the briefs down to expose his fully engorged cock, leaking precum all over the carpet. “Not for anything. Not for anyone.” Jeramie dove forward. His lips latched around the Coach’s cock like a vice, sucking the thin string of precum down his throat in a single gulp. Both of the boy’s tiny hands circled around the thick, engorged piece of prime latino perfection. Coach threw his head back and sighed, thrilled by his conquest of the natural-born slut. His hands remained by his hips for a moment, resting comfortably there. The elementary school P.E. teacher relaxed and let himself savor getting a blowjob from such a talented mouth. “You are such a needy little cunt boy,” he groaned out, casting a half-lidded gaze down toward his feet. “Aren’t you?” Jeramie nodded at once, concurring with the older man. His two hands were busy stroking more precum out of Coach’s balls, massaging şişli travesti the lower base while his mouth sucked the tasty, intoxicating fluid out like a hoover. “Those pretty little lips look good wrapped around my cock,” the Coach said knowingly. “Bet that hole of yours needs tending to all the time, huh?” Jeramie didn’t fall for the trap. Coach was trying to bait him. Rather than answer, the pre-teen sleuth released one hand from the base of Coach Ramirez’s cock. Jeramie snaked it down along Coach’s thigh, brushing the hairy inside seductively. Coach sighed, which gave Jeramie incentive to keep going. His little fingers stopped when they reached the two massive low-hangers swinging between the man’s thick legs. Taking one in his little paw, Jeramie gently massaged it. The result was instantaneous. Jeramie received a mouthful of pre-jizz. The fluid washed over his tongue, setting his taste buds ablaze. Coach’s scent was suddenly everywhere, moving up into his nose. Feeling bold, Jeramie gave the Coach’s second low-hanging fruit a slight squeeze. “Uhh,” Coach grunted. Though it sounded painful, the technique was nevertheless effective. Pre-cum sprayed out from the piss slit of Coach’s cock, flowing as easily as a yellow river. Jeramie moaned happily as he swallowed, savoring the taste before it washed down his gullet and into the boy’s little tummy. Jeramie let the cock head fall out of his mouth. It passed over his tight lips with a loud `pop’ sound. The boy then gazed pleadingly up the long length of hairy, muscled male body, looming over him like a statue. Meeting Coach’s eyes, Jeramie blinked once before licking his tongue between the folds of Coach’s piss slit hungrily. “More, please?” he begged shamelessly. Coach’s big meaty paw snapped off his hip like a striking cobra. The fingers laced roughly through Jeramie’s honey-colored hair, making him yelp. In one move, Coach forced Jeramie back down on his cock, gagging him. The boy flailed helplessly, trying to free himself at first. His fists pounded against Coach’s hairy thighs, but the Coach didn’t let up. “No pain,” he said through gritted teeth, quoting a line he’d used on the dodgeball team many a time. “No gain.” Jeramie relaxed and began putting his throat muscles to work. Gradually, the head started to move. The eleven-year old’s throat was tight, but his body had been stretched before. It just needed encouragement to do what it was born to do. And that was to be a ravenous slut bred to take men’s cocks however they wanted. The thought was satisfying to Coach as he fed little Jeramie more and more of his inches. The room became filled with the sounds of a small boy gagging over and over on an adult alpha male’s cock. Coach chuckled to himself, certain that it wasn’t the first time. Rather than being jealous, it turned him on all the more. He could feel his balls beginning to draw up. Not wanting to cum until he’d plowed Jeramie’s tight little faggot hole, Coach yanked the boy’s mouth off his cock. “You’re not getting my cum yet,” he snapped, going into Coach mode. “Get your little faggot ass up there on that bed, pronto.” To somewhat of a surprise, Jeramie complied. He didn’t move quite as fast as the boys Coach worked with, but there was still an eagerness there. Coach hadn’t been sure that would work on a kid like Jeramie. The boy seemed immune to most mind games that adults used to manipulate children. Shaking the thought off, Coach climbed on the bed behind Jeramie. The little skank had already crawled to the headboard on all fours. Coach quickly peeled the string bikini briefs off, clutching them in one fist. “Here,” he ordered, stuffing them into Jeramie’s mouth. “Can you taste me on them?” Jeramie hesitated, but then nodded. “Good,” Coach said. “I want you to be able to taste me on them more than your Daddy.” Jeramie hesitated again, but the Coach didn’t notice. He was too busy lining his cock up with Jeramie’s hole, giving it a few spanks with the thick piece of meat he owned. Jeramie could indeed taste the Coach on the underwear. Coach hadn’t been wearing them for very long, but his ripe, musky odor was still there alongside Jeramie’s Dad. The two mixed and mingled together, confusing his senses. His heart belonged to Daddy, yet his body constantly craved huge cocks to fill himself up with. It was for this reason that Jeramie didn’t resist when Coach thrust half the length of himself inside Jeramie’s cunt hole in one push. “Oh, fuck yeah!” Coach cried out. “Mmmmmrrgghhupphh!” Jeramie shouted around the underwear stuffed down his throat. Soon, the master bedroom was filled with the sounds of the headboard banging against the wall. Jeramie held on as tight as he could with both hands while Coach drove the full length of his cock deep inside. Each thrust was powerful enough to nearly knock the underwear out of Jeramie’s mouth. He was forced to clench them between his teeth to keep them there. This meant the fabric became soaked in his saliva in a matter of minutes. Coach never noticed. He was in the zone. “Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!” he cried out with every thrust. “Mmm! Mmmmm!” Jeramie answered, using his legs to cling to the pillows underneath him for dear life. It felt like his body might shake apart, but he couldn’t bear to tell Coach to stop. “Mmmrrr, pllzzz!” Coach was all too happy to oblige. Sweat rained down off his body, coating the boy underneath him in a sheen of it. The sheets were getting soaked too. This was what Coach needed most. It was different with Shaffeur. That kid had to be coddled all the time. The boy had opened up to his seductions because he needed love and care. Coach had been happy to fill the hole in Shaffeur’s heart–while also filling Shaffeur’s physical holes with his man meat. Things had shifted, however, after Jeramie entered the picture. The boy didn’t require affection. There had been no seduction, no waiting while the foundation was lain. Jeramie was already a certified cock-hungry faggot slut. He craved dick and the seed from an alpha male’s balls. That was it. “You’re gonna get it!” Coach was gasping as he draped his big, thick, and hairy body over Jeramie’s smooth, smaller one, smothering the boy as he continued his relentless pounding. “You’re gonna get it! You’re gonna–fuck–get it!” The bed rocked with their movements. Jeramie bucked his little body as far back as he could to meet Coach’s thrusts, slamming himself down to the base against a cock that should have been far too big for him. Coach grunted each time like some primal beast. Their fucking became intense, something dark and truly nasty. The room already reeked with the smell of man-on-boy sex. Now it intensified to the extent that there was nothing else. Their sounds filled the house, echoing through the hallway upstairs and down the steps to the first floor. It was a wonder, therefore, when Coach stopped. “The hell was that?” he said, freezing in mid-thrust. Jeramie was so lost in cock lust that he couldn’t think. His body moved on it’s own, rocking back and forth to fuck himself on Coach’s big man machine. “More,” he whined. “Please, Coach! Give me more!” “Shhh!” snapped Coach, which broke through the fog clouding Jeramie’s head a little. “I think I heard something.” That got Jeramie’s attention, and he listened. “What did it sound like?” he asked, but the Coach didn’t answer. A moment later, though, they both heard it. The front door downstairs opened. Jeramie raised up immediately and moved off the bed, yanking Coach’s cock out of him in the process. His cunt farted a little from the sudden evacuation, but there was no time to apologize like he’d been taught. “My Dad’s home!” Jeramie hissed out. “We gotta hide you!” Coach was already on the move. In a few swift movements, he got off the bed–quiet as could be–and snatched up every stitch of clothing he owned off the floor. “Here,” he whispered, passing Jeramie his own clothing. Jeramie didn’t bother explaining that his clothes being in the room wasn’t unusual. Taking the shorts and underwear into his arms, he tried to usher Coach toward the closet. Coach, however, was moving toward the door. “Which way?” he whispered. “Your room?” “Too small,” Jeramie said, not wanting to risk Coach noticing that he hardly ever slept it in anymore, not since Ricky stopped coming over as much. “Guest bedroom?” Coach tried. Jeramie could hear his father on the stairs. “Too far away,” he whispered back. “Come with me. I know a place.” The master bedroom closet was bigger than every other closet in the house. Jeramie pushed Coach inside and started to lock the door. Before he could get away, however, Coach reached out with both hands, taking hold. “You’re still naked,” Coach reminded, pulling the door closed with one hand while the other held Jeramie tight. “Can’t have that!” Instead of shutting it, Coach left the closet door open a crack. He and Jeramie stared out through it, watching as Detective LeCleaux entered. If Jeramie’s father was bothered by the smell, he gave no notice. Jeramie figured it was because the room often stank of sweaty, filthy man-boy sex. The rumpled bed wasn’t an issue either. Jeramie didn’t always have time to make it before he left for school. Regardless, Jeramie was tense with nervous energy. He watched the whole time his father moved about the room, searching for something. Jeramie remembered his Daddy saying something about a big case today. “Must’ve forgot something,” Jeramie said softly to himself. Coach’s hand came down at once over his mouth, silencing him. Outside, Daddy LeCleaux raised up a moment, but then shook his head. He was too busy, and in too much of a hurry, to pay any more mind. This relieved Jeramie greatly, until he felt something. Coach had moved behind him and was sliding his cock once more up and down the crack to Jeramie’s pussy. “Don’t make a sound,” Coach warned, speaking as quietly as he could. Jeramie expected for his father to hear, but Daddy LeCleaux never reacted. He didn’t notice at all when the head to Coach’s cock punched past his son’s tight ring a few short feet away. Ramirez still had his hand clamped down tightly over Jeramie’s mouth so the boy wouldn’t squeal. Jeramie’s body did jerk, though, as he felt the thick tubesteak spread him wide. Coach’s foot kicked Jeramie’s little legs apart like he was a suspect being arrested. “I’m gonna fuck you slow while your Daddy’s here in the room with us,” he whispered, tickling the boy’s ear. The first thrust rose Jeramie up onto his little tiptoes. It wasn’t even a hard push, but the strength behind it nevertheless made him move. Daddy was rifling through some papers on top of the dresser and never turned around. Jeramie’s eyes teared up as he watched, feeling Coach’s fat cock move in and out. The man moved with slow, deliberate strokes that left the boy screaming inside, aching for more. Yet Jeramie couldn’t bear to cry out. His father was literally just across the room. His eyes raked over the male perfection that Jeramie was so used to. The clothes Daddy LeCleaux wore fit him like a second skin. At times, right as Coach entered him, Jeramie could see the muscles rippling underneath. Daddy didn’t flex or pose very often–not unless Jeramie asked, and even then, it took a little prompting. Detective LeCleaux wasn’t the type who showed off much, unless he and his son were alone. No, it was simply how Daddy’s body was built. Each subtle movement forced muscle to shift and tense, which showed even underneath the work clothes his father had on. It made Jeramie’s hands ache to touch him. And yet, his mind was on fire. Coach was using shorter, faster strokes now. The head kept brushing past a spot inside of Jeramie’s cunt. It lay just beneath what Jeramie knew was his prostate. Daddy had explained that to him years ago. And now, Coach had found a place that even Daddy hadn’t known about. Jeramie’s back arched and his toes curled, tearing little fibers out of the carpet. He longed to scream, to burst out from the closet and beg for Daddy to rape his little cunt until it never closed up. Tears streamed down his face. He tried shaking Coach’s hand off his mouth, but Ramirez held on tight. And then, in the blink of an eye, Daddy rushed out the door, having found the papers he’d left behind. A moment later, the front door downstairs slammed shut, indicating that Daddy had left. “FUCK!” Coach gasped noisily, once the coast was clear. “UUUGGHHHHNNNNMMMPPHHH!” Jeramie moaned, slamming his little tight hole all the way down to the base of Coach’s hard dick. The door to the closet swung open. Coach had released Jeramie’s mouth to push it. With the eleven-year old in front of him, Ramirez marched them both out, still lodged deep inside of Jeramie. “Ahhh! Uuhhh! Fuucckk! Ooohhhooooo!” Jeramie cried out with each step, because Coach’s cock moved inside of him with every pace. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight!” Coach swore, moving over by the window. To Jeramie’s shock, Coach flung the curtains open. These normally stayed shut so that no one could see inside the bedroom. Daddy always insisted on maintaining a level of security in the house, especially after it was broken into. But Daddy wasn’t at home now. He had left, and Jeramie found himself slammed hard up against the glass. His nose was pressed flat and the window began to fog up. “Now I’m really gonna fuck this tight little faggot pussy,” Coach declared, before waylaying into Jeramie like a freight train. Jeramie’s fingers clawed helplessly at the window glass, leaving streaks in the foggy surface. The heat from their bodies was making it steam up. He still had tears rolling down his face. Every inch of his body felt like it was screaming, begging for release. And yet, a part of him hoped the torture would never end. “Please,” Jeramie croaked out. “Please!” “Almost there,” Coach huffed, though it wasn’t clear if he even registered Jeramie’s words. “Almost there! Almost… there!” Something caught Jeramie’s eye. There was movement in the house across the street. Like lightning, panic surged through him. “Get off me,” he said, and when Coach kept thrusting, he tried to push against the glass. “Get off me! Someone’s in the house. They might see us!” Coach could feel his balls rising. His nut was well on the way. At the last second, however, Jeramie’s words reached him. He could feel Jeramie fighting, trying to push him off. Coach was too strong for the kid, but the thought of being seen made him leap back. “Shit!” he screamed. “Fuck!” Coach’s thick cock flew out of Jeramie, liberating him. Swiftly, Jeramie reached for the curtains and yanked them closed. Coach had already moved out of the way. “Goddammit!” the older man yelled. Jeramie glanced back and saw that Coach was bent over. His balls had drawn up all the way to the underside of his shaft. The man had been seconds from cumming, and was cut off. It was no wonder he was angry. If anything, Coach looked to be in some serious pain. “I don’t see anythi…” Jeramie started to say, only to recant a second later. “Wait, there it is again!” Slowly, Coach’s breathing steadied. “Who lives next door?” he asked in a rough voice. “No one,” Jeramie explained, still maintaining a steady vigil. “The old neighbors moved out not long after our home was broken into. It’s been vacant ever since.” Coach’s face wrinkled as he frowned hard. “Huh,” he said. “I don’t remember seeing a `For Sale’ sign outside.” “It was sold not long ago,” Jeramie said absent-mindedly, peeking through the curtain once again. “A new family is moving in soon. I hear it’s the school Superintendent. Some of their stuff is… hey!” Jeramie felt Coach’s hands on his body and pulled away quickly. “I think someone broke into the house next door. We need to check it out!” Coach blinked, then watched as Jeramie hurried over to the closet. A minute later, he rushed back out, fully dressed now. His face was still tear-streaked and his hair was a mess. “You look like you were ridden hard,” Coach said, laughing at his own joke. Jeramie paused, and caught a glimpse of himself in the bedroom mirror’s reflection. “Oh,” was all he said in response before fixing his hair. “Okay, let’s go!” He was halfway down the stairs when Coach called out. “Hold up,” the man he had left in the master bedroom yelled. “I’ve gotta put clothes on first. And shouldn’t you be heading to school?” Jeramie stood with one foot on the step below him, hand on the rail and fingers tapping impatiently. After several more minutes, Coach emerged around the corner and descended. “Shouldn’t you?” said the eleven-year old sleuth knowingly. Coach hesitated at that, but Jeramie turned without another word. Together, he and Coach made for the back door. Jeramie checked, just in case, to make sure the coast was clear. The backyard was deserted and there was no sign that the other neighbors were watching. “C’mon,” Jeramie said, waving for Coach to follow. “It’s safe.” The little scamp lead his elementary school coach across the yard to the rear gate. Coach kept a close watch all around them the whole time. He was afraid of being caught there, but Jeramie paid no mind. He was focused on solving a potential case, and positively fearless in the face of the unknown. Plus, he and Ricky had done this many times before. No one ever paid attention to their backyard. The fence was high enough to block most folks’ views. Besides that, their neighbors were usually at work during this time, which was another reason why Jeramie knew the house next door had an intruder. “Hurry up,” Jeramie said, waving Coach through the rear gate. “It’s this way. A little farther down.” The gate into the neighbor’s backyard was positioned in the same location as the one on the LeCleaux property. It lay all the way down on the other end, right before the property line stopped. The owners had forgotten to lock it. Jeramie had checked not long after they moved away and found it open. He gave the gate a soft push, careful not to squeak the old, rusty hinges. The boy slide in first, then held the gate open for Coach to slip through next. Coach looked around the vacant backyard nervously. It was clear he didn’t want to be there. A wet stain had formed again on the front of his jeans. Jeramie hadn’t let Coach cum, and the older man was paying for it. “See?” Jeramie whispered, pointing. Coach looked up in the direction Jeramie indicated. His eyes caught movement behind the curtains of a rear window on the second floor. It looked as if someone was up there, looking around for something. “Huh,” Coach said, surprised. “Looks like you were right.” “I usually am,” Jeramie pointed out cheekily, giving the Coach a smug look, which served to annoy the older man. “It could be the new owners,” he pointed out. Jeramie shook his head. “They’re not due to arrive until sometime this afternoon,” he explained softly, motioning for Coach to follow. “And if it was them, their car will be parked out front.” Coach couldn’t argue with this reasoning, even though he wanted to. Jeramie led him around the side of the house, away from the window with the mysterious occupant, to the front. Sure enough, when he peeked his head around the corner per Jeramie’s insistence, there was no vehicle of any kind in the driveway. “They could have parked in the garage,” Coach tried vainly. “This house doesn’t come with a garage,” Jeramie said, pointing to the spot on the other side where an awning extended over a slab of concrete. “Just a carport.” “Oh.” Coach was running out of ideas. “Well, I can’t call the police. They’ll ask too many questions about why I’m here.” “I can call my Dad,” Jeramie reminded, waving away Coach’s concern. “But first, I wanna know why someone broke in.” Boldly, Jeramie marched around to the front door. “I mean,” he said, hearing Coach’s heavy footfalls behind his light ones. “Obviously, to steal something. The owners already had their stuff brought in by movers.” “Right.” Coach felt that much was blatantly clear. “I mean, why else would they?” “That’s what I’m curious to know,” Jeramie revealed as he lifted the old welcome mat that had `Wipe Your Feet’ printed on it to retrieve the spare key. “They never took the key with them,” he said, smirking. “Anyway, if you were gonna rob a house, wouldn’t you bring a van?” Coach chewed on that thought while Jeramie slid the key into the lock, where it fit perfectly. It wasn’t easy to stay focused, though. The sight brought a lot of lewd images of other objects going into tight places. Not getting to cum had put his brain into a perverted state of circular lust. He was desperately horny and needed to get off. Instead, he was slipping inside of someone else’s home alongside the object of his cock’s affections. The way that Jeramie’s tight bum wiggled with every step made him clench his teeth. If the boy didn’t give up his hole soon, Coach feared he might pounce him and rape Jeramie right there on the carpet of a stranger’s house. That thought was weirdly appealing, actually. “See?” Jeramie said, gesturing around them. “The new owners have all their stuff moved in already. So why wait until today, and why not bring a car or truck or something?” Jeramie’s questions annoyed Coach. “Dunno,” he grunted, unable to keep his eyes off Jeramie’s tight little faggot butt. “I’m going upstairs,” Jeramie said, unaware of the heated gaze Coach was giving him now. “Watch the door for me, please.” Jeramie began moving up the steps, taking them one at a time. He thought he felt a hand brush past his hip, like Coach had tried to grab him. His mind was too focused on the mystery at hand, however, to care much. Luckily for him, the stair steps were carpeted. None of them creaked or moaned as Jeramie made his way up to the second floor. The layout of the house beyond the landing was open, which made him uncomfortable. It would be too easy for the intruder to spot him. Thus, Jeramie took the last few steps as carefully as possible. No one was waiting for him when he reached the second floor. Jeramie took advantage of this by scurrying across and out of sight. A corridor wrapped around the house from this point onward. Whoever had built the house made it so that all of the rooms were on the outer edge. The inner most part contained the second floor bathroom and a study for office work. That was where Jeramie could hear movement. In order to get there, however, he had to travel in a circle. No matter which direction he came from, there would be one side of the second floor exposed, making it easy for the intruder to escape. If Jeramie wanted to spot who it was, he needed to be extra quiet. It was for this reason, perhaps, that his foot managed to find the one creaking floorboard located right before the bend in the hallway. Jeramie winced as the sound carried all through the house. “Dammit,” he swore. Sure enough, whoever was in the study went still. The sounds disappeared. For a moment, it seemed as if they might have even held their breath. Then, footsteps beat against the carpet. The intruder was making a run for it, which meant that Jeramie had to hurry! Fortunately, he had asked Coach to watch the front door. Whoever the intruder was, they weren’t going to get far. Therefore, when Jeramie passed by the door to the study in his pursuit, he slowed down. “Wow,” he said, taking in the damage. “What a mess!” Jeramie had been in the neighbor’s house before, but it was several years back. He remembered enough of the layout, though, which was how he knew to look for the study. The last time he had been upstairs, this room had been a lot nicer. Papers were scattered all over. A big varnished desk stood over by a corner with all of the drawers opened. It looked like someone had gone through ever single one of them. A filing cabinet was wrecked as well, with folders scattered all around it. “Whoever it was,” Jeramie said quietly to himself, “they were in a hurry.” Something caught Jeramie’s eye over by the metal filing cabinet. It looked like one of the folders had been opened and rifled through. When he took a closer look, some of the pages were missing. Several of the remaining pages had the name of the middle school on it. They were applications, he saw, for a vacant teaching position there. “Huh,” Jeramie said thoughtfully. “I wonder why…” Jeramie wandered over to the desk next. A notary stood out. It looked like the stamp had been moved closer to the edge. Jeramie could tell because of the clear path left. Whoever had been here swept the mess aside so they could use the notary to stamp something. Curious, he checked. Sure enough, the stamp had been used recently. “Why would someone need…” He puzzled over the conundrum for a moment. “Unless…” The answer had been right there on the desk the whole time. There was a stack of business cards, all with the same name and number on them. Hell, he had told Coach about them earlier, so it should have been obvious! Jeramie read the job description printed at the very top and smiled. “Gotcha,” he said, feeling pride and a sense of satisfaction that positively radiated out from him. “Now I just need prove that he did this.” It didn’t take long. Jeramie searched carefully through the room, making sure to disturb as little as possible. If he was right, then the evidence would be downstairs with Coach. Jeramie wanted one last thing, however, to be on the safe side. He found it lying on the floor. A pen had fallen out, landing on the carpet amid a mess of strewn papers. Jeramie held it in his hand, which was wrapped up in his shirt to avoid leaving fingerprints on it. There were words engraved on the side. Pembrooke Elementary Dodgeball It was the last little bit that Jeramie needed. Smiling, he lay the pen back down onto the floor for the police to find. All Jeramie needed now was to call his father so that the cops could come. Fortune favored him again in that regard. There was a cordless phone resting on the desk. Jeramie dialed the number by heart and waited, listening to the other side ring. “It’s Jeramie,” he said when the receptionist answered. “Detective LeCleaux’s son. Is he inside of the station?” “He’s not,” the sharp voice of the woman on the other end replied. “Your father had to go out to the county juvenile detention center to interview some criminal there.” “Right.” In his haste and excitement, Jeramie had forgotten about his father’s case. “What’s the number there?” Jeramie quickly scribbled the digits down as the receptionist rattled them off. “Thanks,” he said before hanging up and dialing again. It took the person on the other line at the detention facility a moment to connect Jeramie to the right interrogation room. Jeramie had to give his father’s full name and badge number first. Even after, he had to wait on hold for several minutes before his father picked up. He sounded out of breath. “Hey son!” Daddy LeCleaux said hurriedly. “Say, if this is about that thing you asked me, I may not get away from work in time to pick you both up, but I will be home.” “Thanks, Daddy.” Jeramie listened closely, thinking he heard another voice. “When you’ve got a minute, though, I have some official police business for you too.” “Oh?” Daddy LeCleaux’s voice sounded surprised. “What’s going on?” “Someone stole something from the school superintendent’s house,” he explained, listening again as someone cursed. The detention center was apparently a rough place. “The one next-door to us.” Daddy LeCleaux didn’t speak immediately. “They’re… supposed to move in today, aren’t they?” he asked. “This afternoon,” Jeramie reminded. “I saw someone in a window and used the spare key. The study is trashed, but I think I know who did it.” “That’s my boy.” Daddy LeCleaux sounded proud. “I’ll phone the station and have a squad car go over and check it out. Make sure you’re in school by then, okay?” “I will,” Jeramie swore. “Send someone to the school as well. That’s where you’ll find the burglar.” Jeramie began to iterate everything he’d discovered. “Hold on,” Daddy said, cutting him off momentarily. “Lemme write this down.” Jeramie waited patiently while his father fished out a pen and his notebook. “Okay,” Daddy said, once Jeramie finished. “That everything?” “That’s everything,” he replied. “Good to know.” It sounded as though Daddy was smiling. “See you in a few hours, then?” “See you then.” Jeramie blew his Daddy a kiss through the receiver. “I love you, Daddy.” “I love you too, son.” Jeramie waited until the line went dead on the other end, wanting to hear his father’s breathing. It didn’t last for more than a few seconds before he heard a click and the dial tone rang. Hanging the phone up, Jeramie stepped lightly out of the wrecked study and down the hall, following the same path he had before to the stairs. He was taking them one at a time when something caught his attention. “Coach?” he called out. Coach Ramirez was nowhere near the landing. A few more steps gave Jeramie a glimpse of the front door. Coach wasn’t there either. “Coach?” he tried again. A noise came from farther back in the house, on the first floor. The sound made Jeramie’s little body tense up. Quickly, he rushed down the rest of the steps and hurried off, running toward it. beylikdüzü travesti He had left Coach alone, assuming the muscular stud could handle himself. If something had happened to him, though, it would be Jeramie’s fault. Jeramie’s fears were misplaced, though. If anything, they were the complete opposite. The eleven-year old sleuth located his P.E. teacher a moment later, having followed the grunts and whispered voices coming from the rear of the newly furbished home. Coach was standing beside the door of what looked like a nursery. It seemed the new owners had very young kids. That, or they were expecting–as Ricky’s mother was so often fond of calling it. “Coach?” Jeramie said, startling the man. “Shit!” the hairy latino exclaimed, jumping slightly. “Ow, teeth!” Jeramie looked down and saw at once what Coach meant. Little Eddie Baxter was kneeling on the carpet in front of Coach Ramirez. Coach had opened the front of his jeans, letting his mighty, hooded brown cock fall out. Little Eddie had been sucking on it this whole time as if it were his favorite icy popcicle. “Hey, Jeramie!” Eddie said, smiling big as he looked around the Coach at where Jeramie stood, still slightly stunned. “Ahh, he came over,” Coach fumbled, trying to make excuses as he hiked up his pants, although Eddie’s small hands were making that task difficult. “And… you were upstairs, and…” Jeramie couldn’t help himself. “It’s okay, Coach,” he said, giggling. “I just… Eddie I didn’t know you were… I mean, where did you…?” “From your Dad,” Eddie answered promptly, still trying to hold on to Coach’s thick shlong so that it didn’t disappear in his jeans and out of sight. This news surprised Jeramie quite a bit. “Really?” he pressed, hoping Eddie felt like sharing more. “Yup,” Eddie went on, giving Coach’s cock a squeeze, which elicited a groan from the big boy-breeding stud. “I watched him and Ricky playing together a while back. I wanted to play too, so I asked him to fuck me.” It seemed that there was no end to today’s surprises. Jeramie did feel, however, that this news explained a whole hell of a lot about the last few months. It also explained where Ricky had disappeared to when they were out shopping for Valentine’s Day. “Anyway,” Eddie went on, still volunteering information freely, “I saw you and Coach going through the front door. I was curious, so I came across the street to find out why he was here. Then I saw Coach was hard, so I offered to help.” “I thought we should at least move out of the living room,” Coach said feebly. That, Jeramie admitted, was a good plan. “What’re you doing home from school, though?” he wondered, still connecting all of the dots in his head. “Are you sick?” “No, silly.” It was Eddie’s turn to giggle. The tiny scamp managed to free Coach’s cock once more and licked the head quickly. “I got straight As, remember?” Jeramie had, in fact, forgotten. It was something that Pembrooke Falls Elementary did for their best students. If someone got straight As on their report card during the last term, they could stay home from school on the last day. For years, Ricky had fumed about Eddie having the last day of school off. He insisted it was because the earlier grades were a lot easier than the later ones. There may have been some truth to that too, but Jeramie also knew it was because Eddie was a whole lot smarter than his best friend. Ricky never got to stay home on the last day, so Jeramie would always deliberately do poorer on one test. He had tried going to school once despite getting a perfect score, but Ricky got upset. He hadn’t wanted Jeramie to miss out just because he felt sorry for Ricky. Jeramie had done it again this year. He wasn’t about to miss out on spending time with his best friend, especially now that Ricky was moving. Of course, he was going to be a little late for school this time. Maybe even later… “Do you wanna play too?” Eddie asked innocently while running his small tongue up along the underside of Coach’s shaft, eliciting a moan from the older man. Coach went very still, suddenly. His moan cut off, and both eyes flew open. Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting this. Jeramie could tell that none of these events were planned. Coach had just been going along with his good fortune. And now, he had two horny young boysluts in front of him. The latino stud’s cock practically jumped out of little Eddie’s tiny paws. Jeramie watched it bounce up and down eagerly. A wet thread of precum sailed into the air, landing with a loud splat in Eddie’s hair. Some of it trailed down, running into Eddie’s eye. “Sure,” Jeramie decided, slowly stripping out of his clothes. “We can play for a little bit.” It was a risky venture. School would have started by now. Coach was going to be missed, and so was Jeramie. Plus, there was a mystery to wrap up. And yet, none of that stopped Jeramie from getting down onto his kneels beside Eddie. Ricky’s little brother grinned big when Jeramie joined him. Together, they wrapped their small hands around Coach’s massive cock and stroked it, milking more of the clear, sticky fluid from the piss slit. In seconds, Coach was breathing like a marathon running. “Oh god!” he cried out as sweat drizzled down his brow. “Oh god! Fuck, that… never had four hands on my cock before!” Jeramie and Eddie both let out a giggle. The older of the two moved his small hands down to the base, working them down along the length and back up again. This pushed Coach’s delicious, spicy pre-jizz up to the tip where Eddie was waiting. Eddie’s own little hands jerked the head of Coach’s cock off quickly. His mouth lay wide open directly underneath the helmet. Each time the uncircumcised hood rose up over the swollen brown head, a rope of precum flew out. The little perv would catch each one on his tongue. Sometimes, though, he would miss and wind up with it smeared all over his slutty faggot face. Eddie didn’t seem to mind, however. His tongue would extend as far as it could, desperate to lap the salty, tasty fluid away. “Fuck!” Coach cried out. Jeramie had moved his own mouth down under to where Coach’s big low-hangers swung. He then added to Coach’s over-stimulation by lapping playfully at the hairy nut sack. His hands still did their work, coaxing more precum out for Eddie to devour. It wasn’t long before Coach let out a roar. “Stop!” he demanded, shoving both boys back onto their tiny pale asses. “Stop it! Fuck! I’m gonna nut if you don’t stop!” Jeramie and Eddie both stared up at their half-dressed Coach, who was panting as if he’d just run a mile in a minute. Coach’s big, hairy chest heaved up and down. His jeans were slipping down his legs toward the floor. The muscular latino stud shook, which in turn made his cock and balls bounce. Eddie licked his lips at the sight. His face was coated in a thick layer of drool and cock slime. His eyes looked glazed over as well. Privately, Jeramie thought his friend could have easily been mistaken for drunk in that moment. “Sorry, Coach,” Jeramie croaked out. “Please,” Eddie whimpered, reaching up with one hand desperately. “Please, can’t we have a little… more, sir?” A darkness fell over Coach’s face. “You really want more of this, huh?” he asked–or rather, demanded–giving his cock a shake. When Eddie nodded, the light in Coach’s eyes faded a little more, replaced by some hungry beast rising up out of the depths of his conscious brain. Jeramie had seen that look in men before. Eddie didn’t know what he was in for, but Jeramie did. He opened his mouth to put a stop to this. Eddie was still young and small. Coach didn’t give him the chance to speak, though. “You are a real natural-born slut, ain’cha?” the big man asked, almost as a challenge. Eddie responded to the question with a quick nod. “Yes, sir!” he replied eagerly, though Jeramie wondered whether Eddie even knew what it meant. In response, Coach reached out with his big meaty paw. His thick fingers, calloused from years of intensive workouts and labor, laced roughly into little Eddie Baxter’s hair. Jeramie watched in shock as Eddie was yanked up off the floor. Coach frog-marched Eddie in front of him. “Hustle,” Coach snapped, pushing Eddie toward one of the nearby walls. “When I say `hustle’, that means you move your pretty little faggot ass, understand?” “Yea… yes, sir!” Eddie managed to squeal out. “Good,” Coach barked. “Now hustle! Hustle! Hustle!” Jeramie moved. He wasn’t sure what his plan was. There didn’t appear to be any way for him to get Eddie out of this situation. He could offer himself up in Eddie’s place, of course. Coach’s huge dick had pounded his tiny little boypussy before. But Coach didn’t appear interested for the moment. He only had eyes for Eddie, who found himself being pushed up against the wall. Jeramie watched as Eddie’s face was shoved into the wallpaper, decorated a soft blue with balloons and clowns painted all over it. Evidently, the new home owners had a baby boy, or were expecting one. Jeramie doubted very much that they anticipated their nursery being used like this. Coach, meanwhile, had flipped poor little Eddie around so that the boy was facing the older, hairy tower of muscle. Eddie opened his mouth at once, taking several inches of cock into him. Jeramie paused, hesitating as he watched Coach thrust his hips forward again and again. “Damn,” Coach moaned. “I knew I was right.” Eddie coughed while the gagging sounds he made from having his throat raped so violently rebounded off the decorated walls of the nursery. His little hands gripped desperately at the big man’s tree trunk thighs. Jeramie noticed, however, that Eddie wasn’t trying to push Coach off of him. The boy’s skinny little arms attempted to pull Coach even closer. He had no chance of accomplishing this, of course. Coach’s strength and power controlled the thrusts he was giving poor Eddie. And yet, it was clear to Jeramie that Eddie craved more. Coach noticed this too. “You really are a natural faggot,” he said, who then hacked up a huge loogie and let it fly! The great big glob of saliva splattered against Eddie’s face, right under his eye. Eddie barely winced from it. His attention was too focused on getting more of Coach’s thick dick inside of his throat. The gagging and snarfing noises grew louder in the nursery as the fresh slime trail from Coach’s spit traveled down Eddie’s face to dribble on his shirt. Coach seemed to remember Jeramie, then. “Hey, you!” he said, snapping his fingers impatiently. “Get over here. I ain’t had nobody eat my ass out in a long time.” Jeramie didn’t argue. Quickly, he stripped down out of his clothes. School was a distant memory at this point. His eyes stayed glued to Coach’s thick globes and the smelly, earthy hole hidden between them. One by one, Jeramie stepped closer while Coach fed his dick deep into Eddie, who gobbled it down like he was starved for huge cock. And from what it looked like, Eddie was! “Fuck, yeah!” Coach cried out when he felt Jeramie’s small hands pry his bouncy globes apart. “Stick that little boy’s tongue inside me. Wanna feel you slurping on that like it’s your favorite ice cream.” Jeramie did just that. His tongue reached as far as it would go, tasting the thick, rich flavor of Coach’s man ass. Coach groaned and thrust harder into Eddie, who gagged and gasped for breath, but never once asked for Coach to stop. “Grrgkk!” he heard Eddie gargle out. “Grrk! Ghhkkk! Grrrkkkk!” Together, the trio stayed pressed up against the wall. Jeramie added the slurps and smacks from his tongue going in and out of Coach’s rank ass to the symphony that was building. The nursery was filled with the taboo noises of a grown man having a threesome with two elementary school boys. Little Eddie’s choked gargles increased in tempo as Coach sped up his thrusts. Coach himself was growling like a beast, interrupted only by the big latino stud dropping the occasional colorful swear word in front of the two boys. Another thing that was most likely not meant to be heard inside the nursery, to Jeramie’s mind, anyway. “Oh fuck!” Coach cried out unexpectedly. “Shit! I’m gonna cum!” Jeramie was all set to see Coach’s balls draw up. He expected the older alpha male to bury his massive dick all the way down Eddie’s throat. In a rush, he raised back, removing his tongue from the hairy ass it had been buried in. He thought that Eddie would be swallowing by now, choking down thick lumps of latino seed to settle in his tummy. Instead, Coach took a step back, nearly tripping over Jeramie in the process. It would have been worse had Jeramie not already moved away some. “Fuck!” Coach swore, flailing momentarily as he struggled to regain his balance. The long piece of man-meat was unceremoniously yanked out of Eddie’s small throat with a loud `GACK’ sound that reminded Jeramie of someone throwing up. Eddie’s eyes were wide with shock. It looked as though he were stunned, confused by what was happening, and wondering why Coach had stopped skull-fucking his face. Quickly, Jeramie stood up and steadied the Coach, who was breathing heavily. “Almost lost it there,” Coach said between gasps. “I didn’t wanna nut just yet.” Eddie remained on the floor, watching Coach as his chest rose and fell. His eyes seemed to fixate on the thick carpet of hair covering the grown man’s upper body. Jeramie himself remembered what it was like to run his fingers through that thick, rough fur. He recalled having his own smooth, small body brush against it over and over while Coach’s thick cock penetrated him again and again. “Please,” Eddie whispered. His voice sounded hoarse, which made sense, given how deep the Coach’s brown cock had been thrusting down his throat. “Please… sir.” Eddie coughed several times before he could speak. “Please, more?” Jeramie recognized the glazed look in Eddie’s eyes. He had seen it before on his own face whenever Daddy would fuck him in front of the mirror. It was the look of a boy possessed by the need to have cock. Eddie was addicted to it, and there was a nice big hard one leaking slobber and precum right in front of him. Jeramie suspected it wouldn’t be long before Eddie made his move, with or without Coach’s permission. He was proven correct when Ricky’s little brother flung himself off the wall, hands reaching out to grasp hold of the prize. Coach surprised them both, however, by reaching down. His own big hands stopped Eddie before he could get close enough, holding the cute little cocksucker by the face. Still, Eddie flailed, trying desperately to touch Coach’s big swinging cock. “C’mere,” Coach said gruffly. It happened so fast that Jeramie was left standing all by himself on the carpet. In a single swift movement, Coach lifted Eddie up off the floor. Eddie found himself being flipped around so that he was facing the wall. A couple of strides saw the little boy pressed face-first against the wall. Eddie’s nose was pressed between two clowns while Coach held him up with one hand. His right arm bulged, straining with the strength inside the curled, veiny bicep while the left hand reached down to spread Eddie’s little legs wide. Eddie understood and moved them farther apart. Coach was momentarily distracted when he saw this, which gave Eddie enough time to turn his head so his nose was no longer scrunched. Coach then took hold of his cock and guided inside of Eddie. Jeramie watched the whole thing, wondering if it was too much. True, Eddie had a talented throat. He might even be a natural at sucking off big men. Taking cock up the cunt was another matter, though. Jeramie thought back to what Eddie had said before while Coach sank himself all the way inside. His Daddy had been fucking the boy next door, it seemed. If that was the case, then Eddie shouldn’t have… “OH FUCK ME!” The scream startled Jeramie. “FUCK ME PLEASE, SIR!” cried little Eddie Baxter as his fingers clawed for purchase. “PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE!” “FUCK YEAH!” Coach roared out in response, bucking his hips upward. “That’s just what I like to hear! Little faggots who need dick!” “I NEED IT!” Eddie howled in answer. “RAPE ME, SIR! RAPE ME!” Jeramie’s eyes doubled in size. It took mere moments for the scene in front of him to turn positively brutal. Coach’s big hands reached up to grip hold of Eddie while his hips savagely pounded the child. Eddie’s own coltish legs reached around, locking Coach in their grip so that he was supported. Eddie’s fingers, meanwhile, continued to dig deep into the wall as far as they would go. This meant his fingernails caught on several bits of the wallpaper, tearing it. The room was filled with the noise of paper getting shredding in addition to the nasty sounds of an adult cock fucking wet farts out of a boy’s cunt hole. “Coach…?” Jeramie called out, only to be ignored. Coach’s own meaty paws let go of Eddie’s hips. Jeramie thought this meant they were stopping, which surprised him. The way Coach’s hips continued to pound Eddie’s small body–slamming it into the wall again and again–bellied that, though. To his shock, Coach started ripping down pieces of wallpaper as well. He and Eddie each shredded what must have been hours of work, leaving the wall in front of them naked and bare. The whole time, neither of them stopped fucking. It was as if they moved together with a single purpose in mind. Eddie needed to feel Coach’s seed inside of him, and Coach was determined to breed the boy into next weekend! “Stop!” Jeramie cried out, horrified by what he was seeing. “Stop, this is wrong! You don’t have to wreck the place!” Coach turned his head. It didn’t look like he cared one way or the other about ruining the nursery. However, Jeramie’s words–more the volume than their actual meaning–got the latino stud’s attention long enough for his mind to register that Jeramie was still in the room. Jeramie watched as Coach frowned. He seemed to wrestle with something for a moment, looking back and forth between Jeramie and Eddie. Eddie was still holding on for dear life. It looked like Coach’s cock might punch him straight through the wall soon if they didn’t slow down. “Hang on,” Coach said breathlessly. His hands took hold of Eddie again, lifting him up so that his cock came out of Eddie’s abused cunt with a noisy `POP’. Jeramie watched as Coach turned around while Eddie dangled in his arms, looking dazed. “Over there,” Coach ordered in a voice that was used to being obeyed. “On the table. Get undressed and lay down.” Jeramie hesitated, but complied when Coach made a face. He stripped and lay flat on his back atop the short table made for toddlers while Ramirez peeled off the rest of his clothing. Holding Eddie up proved difficult, so Coach lay him face-down on top of Jeramie. The two watched as Coach stripped every last stitch off. Jeramie saw where this was going and spread his legs wide. He then instructed Eddie to do the same. Coach now had a choice between both of their boypussies. He could fuck either one for as long as he wanted to. It was a boycunt buffet and all for him! Jeramie wondered idly whether he or Eddie would wind up taking Coach’s cum, but the thought was driven out of his head. Coach had seized his ankles and thrust forward, punching his cock straight inside. Jeramie yowled like a wounded cat, thinking for sure that Eddie could feel the lump traveling up through his body between the layers of naked flesh covering them. If Eddie did, though, he gave no indication. The boy was still dazed and looking glass-eyed around the room. He had been on the receiving end of the fuck of a lifetime. Jeramie knew he would need more cock soon, the way a proper slut puppy always did. Being one himself, he sympathized. “Don’t… fuck! Forget… shit, oh harder!” Jeramie tried to speak, but Coach was drilling him so fucking good. “About Eddie!” he finished, gasping as Coach found his joy spot. “Don’t worry,” Coach panted out. “I’m not letting either of these holes go without getting fucked deep by me! Not in a million years!” Coach proved to be a fucker of his word. It wasn’t long before Jeramie felt the huge fuckstick yank hard out of his cunt. Eddie let out a yelp of surprise near Jeramie’s ear as the ten-inch latino stud cock rammed hard inside of his hole, stretching it wide. “Yeah!” Coach crowed happily as he rocked his hips. “This is what I’m fucking talking about. Two tight little faggot pussies laid out just for me. I could get used… FUCK!” Eddie had evidently squeezed his cunt muscles down hard on Coach’s cock. The result was that Coach fucked him even harder. Jeramie watched closely, but Eddie didn’t seem to mind. He and Jeramie’s bodies rocked back and forth on the table. Their sweat rolled down, soaking the surface. It was soon slippery enough for them to have to hold on. Both of their bodies rubbed up against one another. Jeramie could feel Eddie’s boynail, hard as a rock, pushing up against his own. “Ohhhh… Fuck me!” Jeramie shouted as he felt Coach enter him again. It was a learning experience for both of them. Jeramie figured out fast that having another boy rub his junk up against his own felt amazing. It was especially titillating while his prostate was being massaged by nearly a foot-long slab of man muscle. “Oh, Coach!” Jeramie screamed. “Give it to me harder!” Coach decided to do just that. Jeramie’s eyes widened when he saw Coach climb up on top of the table. The legs of it beneath them creaked and groaned in protest. Coach didn’t stop, though. His cock pounded in and out of Jeramie’s faggot cunt while the rest of him loomed over both boys. “Fuck, I’ve been… UGH! Missing out!” Coach grunted as he re-entered Eddie yet again. “Should’ve been doing two at a time long ago!” The table groaned again. Jeramie could barely hear it over the sound of Eddie’s cries. It was becoming clear, though, that their weight was too much for it. Jeramie tried to get up, but the weight of Eddie plus Coach meant he was pinned down. It was for this reason that Jeramie tried the less subtle approach. “Coach, get off us!” he shouted, since this had sort-of worked last time. “The table’s gonna collapse!” Coach didn’t hear Jeramie this time. That, or he was too far deep in his rut to care. Either way, the legs beneath the table all let out one final moan of protest before giving up the ghost. They all caved one after the other, snapping like twigs. The table promptly crashed to the floor just as Coach was about to drive himself back inside of Jeramie. Gravity took hold in addition to the downward thrust, which meant Coach found himself buried to the hilt inside of Jeramie in one thrust. “AHHHH!” Jeramie screamed. “SHIT!” Coach cried out. All thoughts of the table flew out of his brain. Pain exploded in his mind. Starbursts flowered in front of his eyes, making him dizzy. Coach, meanwhile, hesitated for maybe a second. Then, instinct took over his body again. He was thrusting into Jeramie while the boy was trying to recover from having that much cock punched inside of him so fast and hard all at once. Eddie was still lying on top of Jeramie. His body clung to the older boy desperately. All he knew was that his cunt hole felt empty. He knew that Coach was fucking someone else. His body screamed in lust, needing to feel full again. “MORE!” he begged. “AGAIN!” They were being forced off the surface of the broken table. Their slick, sweaty bodies had soaked the surface enough for Coach’s thrusts to move them over to the carpet. Jeramie felt the fibers sting his back, bringing a fresh sense of pain. Coach had become an insatiable beast. His need to rut and breed had completely taken over the rest of his brain. There was no stopping him now. He would not cease his relentless assault on their cunts until his balls were drained dry. The only solution was for Jeramie to make that happen. So, he clamped down as hard as he could. Even though it hurt, his cunt muscles clung to Coach’s manhood the next time it entered him. “FUCK!” screamed Coach, loud enough to rattle the walls. He was getting close. Jeramie could see it in the older man’s eyes. It wouldn’t be long before Coach bred one of them. Coach had been forcing Jeramie across the floor, into a pile of stuffed animals. His thrusts finally stopped once they were on top of the collection of plush. It was such a relief for Jeramie to no longer feel the carpet burning his back. Ramirez raised up and pistoned his cock, first into Eddie, and then back into Jeramie. Over and over, he railroaded their holes so that each was left gaping wide open. Jeramie knew then that it was time. “Fuck!” he yelled, getting Coach’s attention. “Breed us, Coach. Now!” At last, Coach pulled his cock out of Eddie. Jeramie didn’t feel it go inside him, so he knew this was it. Coach stood up and loomed over both of them. Sweat rolled down his body, raining off the thick hairs coating him. Coach flexed his arm, showing off his bicep and the thick pit of hair underneath his arm as he jerked his cock furiously. Jeramie tapped a dazed Eddie on the shoulder. The boy’s eyes were even more clouded than before, so Jeramie maneuvered him until they were both resting atop the stuffed animals on their knees. “Here it cums,” Coach warned. “Oh fuck! I’m about to shoot all over both of you. You’re gonna have my cum on your face and in your hair for the rest of the fucking day. I’m gonna mark you both as my own! SHIT! FUCK! CUMMING!” The filthy talk combined with his own massive low-hangers drawing up meant that Coach was one-hundred percent correct. Rope after rope of cum flew high and wide out of his piss slit. Jeramie opened his mouth, catching the first spray of male seed on his tongue. Eddie saw him do this and mimicked it. A hungry moan from deep inside of him rolled up. The second shot splashed between his eyes and down his nose, but enough landed in Eddie’s mouth for him to swallow. The boy rubbed his tummy as he felt the trail of cum go down into his belly. Clearly, Eddie loved it. Soon, both boys were coated in seed, painted white by the alpha male above them. Coach breathed hard, like he had run a marathon, and continued to stroke himself. Jeramie relaxed, satisfied that it was over. “Now I gotta piss.” Coach’s words made Jeramie’s eyes fly open. He had about half of a second to decide what to do before the yellow stream came raining down. It splattered on Eddie, washing away the fresh coat of cum that had been deposited there. “Yuck!” Eddie whined. “No, wait!” Jeramie raised up so that he could move himself between the two. “Eddie doesn’t like that. Feed it to me, Coach. I’ll take it!” To prove his point, Jeramie stuck his tongue out farther. Coach took one look at him and made up his mind. “Move closer together,” he said, even as Jeramie felt the sour, salty fluid hit the back of his throat. “Both of you. You’re gonna learn to love piss, boy.” Eddie didn’t argue with Coach. The two were bathed in the golden shower. Soon, the latino god had them both soaked through with piss and his cum. It felt hot to the touch against their pale skin, hot enough to leave sensitive Eddie red in spots. “There,” Coach said, grinning as he shook the last drops off. “Now you both look like proper faggots.” Jeramie opened his eyes and wiped the sticky mixture of sweat, piss, and cum out of his eyes. Coach was stepping back, moving away from them and over toward his clothes. This reprieve gave Jeramie time to look around. The nursery was a wreck. Part of the wall behind the wallpaper was exposed due to Coach and Eddie tearing it to pieces. The table was in splinters, having been broken in half in addition to losing all four legs. All of the stuffed animals smelled like boy sweat and opened cunt holes, in addition to rank piss and man cum. “C’mon,” Coach said, waving at them. “We’d better get outta here. Jeramie, you’ve still gotta get to school. And somebody needs to take Eddie home before his Mom misses him.” Jeramie couldn’t argue with that logic. There was no way in H-E-double-hockey-sticks he could walk onto school property smelling like a cross between a toilet and a whore. “Eddie needs to shower too,” Jeramie said. “He can do that at my house. We’ll get cleaned up and then you can drive me to school. Fair?” Coach didn’t complain. Jeramie suspected it was because Coach was expected there as well, even though P.E. rarely happened on the last day of school. Using the back door, they slipped out through the fence gate and around to Jeramie’s yard the same way he and Coach had gotten in. From there, it was a simple matter for Coach to use the downstairs shower while Jeramie and Eddie cleaned up in the master bathroom. Jeramie insisted on this, not wanting to give Coach another opportunity to fuck them. He didn’t think Eddie would be able to resist. It was clear the boy had some issues with telling adult men `no’, or saying `no’ to cock, period. Jeramie was gonna have to have a word with his father soon about that. He didn’t so much mind that Daddy had fucked both Eddie and Ricky. He had been planning to let Ricky have a go anyway. No, the problem was that Eddie was a cock addict who didn’t care where his next fix came from. That much was obvious. Eddie would have to pay regular visits to Jeramie’s house from now on in order to get his istanbul travesti fix. Probably under the guise of playdates so that Mrs. Baxter didn’t become suspicious. It was better than having Eddie go out and look for cock on his own! At last, they were all clean and presentable enough to head out. Eddie walked across the street, having been told to inform his mother that he’d been exploring the neighborhood. Jeramie prepared an excuse for his own whereabouts before hopping inside of Coach’s car. Once Coach had gotten in and buckled up, they were on their way to school. The drive between the two was quiet. Jeramie wanted to say a few things, like how he and Coach had ruined a nursery with Eddie’s help. The owners would undoubtedly be furious. But Jeramie had other things waiting for him, and they needed his attention now. He would have to speak with Coach some other time. And so, he hopped out of the car once it had rolled to a stop, said `thank you’ so as to not forget his manners, and shut the door. The door to Jeramie’s class was at the other end of the hallway. He had expected to get stopped along the way, but there were no hall monitors around. It seemed they’d been given the day off in honor of school ending for the summer. When he reached the right fifth grade classroom, Jeramie knocked twice and waited. His teacher opened the door after a moment and squinted at the sight of him. “Mr. LeCleaux,” he said carefully, as though unsure of what was going on. “This is highly unexpected of you.” Jeramie passed the note in his hand off to the teacher without a word. Coach had already signed it before they left. The teacher read the explanation, of how Jeramie had been helping Coach that morning and they’d simply lost track of time. “Fine, then.” Everyone’s eyes were on Jeramie was he was waved inside, all except for one. Bradley wore a shrewd expression. It was clear he wanted to know what Jeramie had been up to. Jeramie didn’t doubt that his own arch-nemesis was hoping to take this and turn the situation to his advantage. The one person who wasn’t watching, however, was Ricky. “Hey,” Jeramie whispered as he sat down in his desk. “I’m sorry that I’m late.” “Hmm,” Ricky said in a noncommittal sort of way. “I think you’ll like why, though,” Jeramie went on. “In a minute. I think it’s about to happen.” His eyes darted toward the big clock hanging on the wall above the chalkboard. “Just wait.” Ricky said nothing else. Jeramie could tell his friend was hurt. This was, after all, the last day of school. It was tradition for them to spend it together. He felt additional guilt knowing that Ricky was moving soon. Therefore, Jeramie settled back and didn’t try to engage Ricky further. He shouldn’t have stayed with Coach for as long as he did. There was the mystery for him to solve, of course, but Coach had been a leisure he could have walked away from. Perhaps, Jeramie reasoned, Eddie wasn’t the only one with a problem. A half-hour later, the big moment arrived. There came another knock at the door. Jeramie raised up and watched as their teacher let two police officers in. Everyone looked on in shock as the teacher walked out with them. “What’s up?” Ricky’s voice surprised Jeramie. Evidently, he wasn’t so angry that he couldn’t press for details. This made Jeramie’s heart leap inside his chest with hope. “Just watch,” he whispered back, winking. “You’re gonna love this.” The small window in the classroom door wasn’t big enough to see out of. It was primarily for the principal or another teacher to peer through. One of Jeramie’s classmates tried to circumvent this by listening at the door. Before they had gotten halfway there, though, the door cracked open. Jeramie watched the panicked student flee back to their desk, making it just before their teacher returned. “Bradley,” he said gravely. “These gentlemen need to speak with you.” Every single student, including Ricky, was positively floored. Bradley walked up the aisle wearing a stony expression. His eyes flicked toward Jeramie with every step. Jeramie watched and waited. The moment the door shut, their teacher went over to Bradley’s desk. Several minutes passed in silence while the teacher went through all of Bradley’s belongings. No one said a word the whole time. It might have been the first time in history that their classroom was that quiet. After searching the desk, their teacher moved on to the bookshelf in the back. Jeramie smiled a little to himself when she pulled out a file folder. It looked like the kind that school documents were kept in. However, Jeramie knew it had come from the house next door to his. Bradley’s habit of keeping stolen property away from his desk, but still close by for him to grab in case of an emergency, had done him in once more. “I’ll be right back,” the teacher said, hurrying up between the rows of desks for the door. “No talking! Open a book and read while I’m gone.” The minute the door closed, Ricky turned to Jeramie. “I saw someone inside the house across the street from us,” he explained. “Through the window. I knew it was a break-in because the neighbors haven’t moved in yet.” Jeramie knew that the rest of the class was listening in. They would find out eventually, so it really didn’t matter. He didn’t even bother keeping his voice low. “Bradley had broken in and stolen a file,” he went on. “Because the house belongs to the new superintendent. I think he was planning to use the file he’d taken to try and get his grandmother a teaching position at the middle school.” Ricky burst out laughing, and was joined by several others. They all laughed until the door to the classroom cracked open again. “I said, QUIET!” the teacher snapped, which had the effect of silencing the room. Once the door slammed shut, Jeramie spoke again, albeit more softly. “Bradley had left a pen there on purpose. It was the one he got while he was still on the dodgeball team. I think he either expected me to believe that Shaffeur broke in, or for it to seem like he was innocent, since he didn’t hide the file in his desk.” “Damn,” Ricky breathed out. “What’s gonna happen now?” Jeramie’s face turned slightly grave. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Bradley didn’t just do something wrong at school. He broke into somebody’s home, and that’s a crime. He might have to go to juvenile hall, especially if they have a look at his school record.” Word traveled like brushfire. Bradley was escorted out of the school by the cops. Students and teachers alike were abuzz with gossip, wondering what had happened. Only Jeramie’s classroom knew the truth, at least until the last bell rang. “Come over to my house this afternoon,” Jeramie told Ricky. “I have a surprise for you.” “Better than seeing Bradley get busted, finally?” Ricky challenged, though he was grinning from ear to ear. “This is the best day of school ever!” Jeramie laughed. “Sorry I had to keep you waiting,” he apologized. “It really was my fault.” “Fuck that,” Ricky said, waving away his friend’s concerns. Jeramie noted that his friend was in such a good mood that he didn’t bother looking around for teachers after saying the Ultimate Swearword. “We’re cool, man,” Ricky continued. “This was the best thing that could have ever happened to me at school. I got to watch Bradley get arrested. Nothing could be better.” “Well…” Jeramie teased. “I hope that what I have planned comes in at a close second.” Ricky threw one arm around his friend. Together, they walked down the hallway and out the doors into the bright sunshine. All around them, kids of all ages were yelling and screaming, howling with joy over the fact that school was out for the summer. The duo strode calmly past the yellow buses. Each rumbled like some ancient beast, eager to pull out of their parking spaces and hit the road. Lines had formed at the sides full of eager Pembrooke Falls Elementary students, all of whom couldn’t wait to get home and start the summer. Jeramie and Ricky didn’t join them. The two walked calmly off the school property. Ricky kept his arm around Jeramie for most of the trek home. Neither one said much to the other. It was a peaceful sort of quiet, the kind two old friends could share without filling up with idle chatter. Sadly, for Jeramie at least, it was over too soon. They arrived at the LeCleaux residence in due time. Each shed their backpacks and stripped out of their sweaty shirts. The cool air from the central unit washed over their small, skinny bodies, sending shivers through them. Ricky grabbed a juice box for each of them while Jeramie set their stuff off to the side. The rest of their afternoon was spent watching cartoons on Fox Kids and playing video games. They ate an unhealthy amount of chips, drank soda, and saved their neighborhood from an invading horde of the undead. At long last, Jeramie heard the sound he had been waiting for. A car engine purred as it rolled into the garage. Raising up, Jeramie rushed over to the SNES and hit the power button, ending the game prematurely. “Hey!?” Ricky protested. “Get upstairs,” Jeramie replied, not bothering to apologize. “Dad’s home. It’s time for that other thing that I told you about.” Ricky looked confused for a half-second. Then, his eyes bulged wide in understanding. Without another word of protest, he tossed the controller aside and sprang up, then charged at full speed for the stairs. Jeramie was right on his heels as they ascended the steps together. ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ When Daddy LeCleaux stepped through the front door to his house, it was strangely quiet. There were telltale signs all over the place of activity, however. Bags of chips had been left on the sofa. Shirts and school bags had been discarded and left off to the side. The two game controllers were unwound from their cords and had been left lying on the floor. All of it bore the signature of Ricky Baxter’s influence. Jeramie was usually much more meticulous about helping to keep the house clean. It was when Ricky came over that he became much more lax in his `wifely duties’. Daddy LeCleaux sighed. “Boys will be boys,” he reminded himself, setting his own briefcase aside. In truth, he didn’t mind so much. It was good for Jeramie to act like a regular kid. At times, Daddy LeCleaux worried privately that his son was a bit too `grown up’ already. Of course, that had some perks as well. “Boys?” he called out, moving through the living room area. “I’m home.” No one answered. Confused, and now ever so slightly worried, Daddy LeCleaux took to the stairs. He was halfway up when a sound wavered down to his ears. “Boys?” he tried again, a bit more loudly and with an edge of command to it. Again, nothing but silence returned. Daddy LeCleaux climbed the rest of the stairs and made a turn at the top, heading for his room. He was halfway to the door when someone giggled impishly. Figuring that he was being subjected to a prank, Daddy LeCleaux steeled himself. He expected to be jumped from behind, or hit with a water balloon. Perhaps Ricky had convinced Jeramie to try out something new to commiserate his moving. That sent a quick pang through Daddy LeCleaux’s chest. Ricky had been a fixture of their household for years. It was tough to think that he wouldn’t live right across the street anymore. Plus, he and Ricky had gotten a lot closer in the last couple of months. And poor Jeramie had to be hurting worse than him. He was losing a best friend. “Boys?” he called, more gently this time. Despite how much he knew his son was hurting, Daddy LeCleaux felt his cock stir. The memory of him deflowering the boy in his own bedroom while both parents were right down the hall surfaced. It had been one of the riskiest things he’d ever done. And one of the most intense and erotic. Daddy LeCleaux knew he would have to fuck Ricky one last time before the boy moved. A private, secret part of him was especially aroused at the idea of sending Ricky off with his own father while carrying a load of LeCleaux seed inside of his cunt. Whatever else came Ricky’s way in life, Daddy LeCleaux had been his first. Ricky would always remember him as the dominant alpha male who claimed his virginity far younger than he was supposed to. “In here, Daddy!” came an unexpected response. His son’s voice broke Daddy LeCleaux out of his stupor. He had stopped walking toward his room, lost in the memories of pounding his long, thick cock deep inside the boy next door. It had made him fully hard. He could feel his cock straining against the fabric of his briefs, threatening to tear them. “Son?” he answered, moving toward the doorway of the master bedroom where he and Jeramie usually slept. There was always Eddie, of course, now that LeCleaux thought further on it. Eddie had come to him after spying on Daddy LeCleaux fucking Ricky in his bedroom. The boy hadn’t told a soul, but was eager to play the same type of `big boy’ game that Daddy LeCleaux had shown his brother. In truth, Eddie’s cunt was even tighter than Ricky’s. The kid was a natural-born slut puppy, just like his son. So, he really wasn’t missing out on anything. But he still had ever intention of cucking Ricky’s father–both of them–before Ricky left. “Son, I—-” Daddy LeCleaux stopped short in the door frame to his bedroom. On the bed were two pale boys, naked and on all fours. Jeramie and Ricky had stripped and gotten on top of the covers. Their little asses were stuck straight up into the air. His son and Ricky were, in turn, laying face-down with their heads resting on the pillows. It was a sight that every alpha male needed to experience at least once: two willing boycunts waiting for him to get home so they could be bred hard and deep. “Welcome home, sir,” Ricky said in an unusually plaintive voice. “We’ve been waiting for you, Daddy,” Jeramie added, peeking over one shoulder at his father. “Aren’t you glad to see us?” Daddy LeCleaux started to strip at once. His tie and shirt hit the floor, exposing his muscular chest coated with a thick carpet of fur. His shoes went flying next. Jeramie watched as his father dropped both his pants and trousers. The massive piece of man meat inside sprang free, leaking precum everywhere. It excited Jeramie to think that his father was already that aroused, even though he had no clue as to the real reason why. “We should’ve been doing this a long time ago,” Daddy whispered as he climbed up onto the bed with them, wearing a great big smile. “I could get used to it!” The boys felt the mattress underneath them sink down. The big man’s weight made their bodies collide softly with each other. Jeramie helped stabilize his friend and waited, holding his breath. He wanted to see which one Daddy would choose first. Daddy had already enjoyed both of them, according to Ricky’s little brother, and Eddie as well. He had been pounding thick, rich ropes of potent semen into Jeramie’s faggot boycunt for years. Ricky was new, though. True, this wasn’t his father and best friend’s first time together. However, Jeramie suspected that they hadn’t been together as many times as Ricky would have liked. It seemed far more likely that Daddy would be interested in him instead. That was why Jeramie’s eyes flew open in surprise when he felt his father’s hands touch him. “Hold still,” Daddy instructed firmly. “It’s been a minute since I had a taste of this fine-ass boypussy.” A gasp slid out of his throat as Jeramie’s mouth formed a perfect `O’ shape. He could feel Daddy’s tongue pushing past the tender folds of his cunt lips, shaped that way from taking so many poundings from huge cocks over the past several years. Daddy circled the outside before moving further in. His tongue made the same twisting motions, sending shivers up through his son. Jeramie’s little hands gripped the bed spread. Daddy already had him panting. He could feel the burning, the need inside of him, churn as it rose up to the surface. “Ohhh… fuck, Daddy!” he gasped. Daddy’s big, strong hand came down hard and unexpected. A loud slap filled the room. Ricky, who had been watching the whole time on all fours beside Jeramie, flinched at the contact. When Daddy raised his hand, a red outline of it had been left on his son’s tender flesh. “Quiet,” he ordered gruffly. Jeramie had let out another, much louder gasp when he was struck. At his father’s orders, however, he bit down on his lower lip. Ricky watched as Jeramie buried his face in the covers. Concern marred his face, but as he watched, Jeramie began backing himself onto Daddy’s exploring tongue, trying to force it deeper inside. “Mmm!” Daddy moaned, letting out a noisy slurp as he withdrew his tongue. “That’s what I’m talking about. A fine-tasting boypussy if there ever was one.” As the reprieve from the exquisite torture settled in, Jeramie raised his head up. Looking over his shoulder, the eleven-year old’s eyes made contact with his father. They stared for a moment, passing a silent communication back and forth. Ricky saw the whole thing. He had no idea what was going on, but he understood on some level it’s significance. A part of him hurt, sharp and sudden. He knew he would never have the same kind of relationship with his own Dad. The elder Baxter had never shown much affection or attention to him. His biological father wasn’t the same type of man that Daddy LeCleaux was. And yet, he knew that he would leave when the time came. Ricky had to at least try. “You’re next,” Daddy said, moving over to the right so he could position himself behind Jeramie’s best friend. “C’mere, boy.” Daddy yanked Ricky hard, making him yelp. The rough treatment felt good, though, which surprised him. He would have pondered this, perhaps, but Daddy’s thick tongue drove any thought out of Ricky’s mind. In moments, Daddy had him slobbering all over the bed sheets, babbling an incoherent mess while the big man tongue-fucked the boy mercilessly. “Mmm! Guuhh! Ahhh, fuuuu…ooohhhhh!” Jeramie watched, wearing a slight smile on his face. He knew exactly what Ricky was going through. Daddy’s tongue was almost as talented as his body. Jeramie had been on the receiving end of it many times, driven to boygasm after boygasm, and then left a drooling mess on the bed as Daddy slid his fat ten-inch schlong inside. “Please, sir!” Ricky had evidently found his voice at last. “Fuck me now!” Daddy raised back. “Not a chance,” he said in a very cold tone of voice. “Not yet, anyway.” Daddy emphasized his point by leaving a red handprint on Ricky’s backside. “This is about me, understand? You are here for my pleasure, and you’ll do things my way. Got it?” A single tear rolled down Ricky’s cheek. “Yes, sir!” he responded quickly, speaking through teeth that were grit together in pain. “That’s more like it.” Daddy paused to part Ricky’s soft cheeks wider. “I think I’d like it if you called me that from now on. `Sir’ has a good ring to it.” Ricky gasped as Daddy dove back inside. “Oh, yes sir!” he hissed out. “Mmm, thank you, sir!” Daddy munched on Ricky’s faggot cunt a bit longer before moving back over to his son. He flipped Jeramie on his back so that he was face-up. Jeramie’s eyes rolled into the back of his skull as Daddy’s tongue explored his most intimate parts. He could feel Daddy’s hands on him as well. Those huge mittens touched Jeramie all over. He could feel the fingers caress and stroke him, driving him closer and closer to his boygasm while Daddy’s tongue rubbed back and forth inside. Jeramie was a panting mess by the time the shivers took over. His body bucked and thrashed, rising up off the bed. Daddy held him in place with his big hands, using the superior strength in his body to keep him there. “Daddy!” he cried out, unable to keep silent. “Fuck, Daddy! OH! OH! DADDY!” Starbursts exploded over his eyes. Jeramie felt what little vision he had sink. For a moment, he was flying across the universe, brought there by the power of his father’s body using him for pleasure. When he at last came down, Daddy had already moved over to Ricky again. His best friend was back on all fours, head down in the blankets again. Daddy was stuffing the head of his almighty cock through the tight lips of Ricky’s recently-found faggot cunt. “I am gonna fuck…” Daddy said, pausing to push forward. “…the everlovin’ shit outta you, boy!” Jeramie lay back and watched, settling in on the bed with his legs spread wide, as Daddy proceeded to do just that. “Ahh! Ahhhh! Goddammit! FUCK!” “Should’ve done this a long time ago!” “Fuck meeee… shit! FUCK!” “Watching you prance around here in those tight little shorts.” “Uhhhh! Uhhhh! Unn… Unn… Oohhhhh!” “Played things too fucking safe. Always worried we’d be caught.” “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuckmefuckmefuckmefuckme!” “All this time, had so much faggot boypussy around me!” “Please! Please! Please, sir! Please, sir! Please, MORE!” “Time I claimed what’s rightfully MINE!” “YES! YES! YES!” Ricky’s body rocked with one boygasm after another. By the time Daddy finished, he had gone cross-eyed. Ricky fell forward in a sweaty, gasping heap. His body lay limp on the bed, prone and unmoving. Daddy had fucked the energy right out of Jeramie’s best friend, a feat that the eleven-year old sleuth would have once believed was impossible. There was a rope of cum stuck to the head of Daddy’s cock. Jeramie noticed it as his father stepped back. It connected the heavy piece of man-meat to the faggot cunt hole that had just been pulverized. For a moment, Jeramie felt a surge of jealousy from somewhere. He and his father already shared a strong connection. They had been close for as long as Jeramie remembered. He slept in the same bed as his father ever night, save for when Ricky came over. That was it. Ricky had always come between them. He would always be a presence in their lives–the first boy that Daddy fucked after Jeramie. Jeramie couldn’t decide whether this was good or bad, but the mood was broken when Ricky unexpected let out a rank fart. Cum exploded from his rear, staining the sheets. It looked like a geyser had gone off. Both Jeramie and Daddy took one look and burst out laughing together. “It’s not funny!” Ricky protested weakly, though he didn’t move. The mood was broken. Daddy stared into his son’s eyes once more. Jeramie felt the love from his father wash over him. In the end, it didn’t matter what Ricky ended up being to his Dad. It wasn’t as if Jeramie had been exclusive, something he still needed to have a talk with his Daddy about later. For the moment, though, he was content. Jeramie spread his legs wide and welcomed his father inside of him. Those thick ten inches slid inside, settling in his son’s boycunt like they belonged there. “I love you, son,” Daddy whispered as his hairy, muscled body loomed above Jeramie. “I love you too, Daddy,” he whispered back. Their eyes locked yet again. Jeramie felt his legs wrap securely around his father’s waist as far as they would go. His body was moving of it’s own accord. It knew what to do. “No matter what happens,” Daddy went on, still whispering softly so as to keep the conversation between the two of them. He nibbled on Jeramie’s ear to keep up a pretense so Ricky wouldn’t notice. “No matter who comes into our lives…” Daddy paused to kiss his son full on the mouth. “It’s always just you and me,” he finished, resting his forehead on Jeramie’s. Jeramie felt something rush through him. A burst of clarity lit up inside of his brain. Daddy had always known. “Yes, sir.” Jeramie fought back tears, but they fell anyway. “Always, sir.” “Always and forever,” said Daddy as he thrust, building his son’s climax. “Always and forever.” “Always…” ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ A few days later, it was time. Ricky’s things had been packed up. Several suitcases were loaded into the back of a pickup truck along with boxes labeled with magic marker. The old crate rumbled to life and backed up, pulling out into the road. A woman stood in the driveway, openly sobbing as she waved. Her husband stood next to her. His face remained as stoic as possible, but it was clear he was heartbroken. In that moment, Mr. Baxter was a man who had realized his mistakes too late. Two children stood off to the side. The girl folded her arms impatiently. It was obvious she found this a waste of her time. Her older brother, on the other hand, waved forlornly. He didn’t cry like his mother, but a cloud of sorrow hung over him. A Goosebumps book was clutched in Ricky’s hand as he and his father rode off together. Eddie had passed it on to him through the window after Ricky climbed in. It was a parting gift, something to remember his little brother by. Ricky clutched it tightly, never letting the book go. He and his father were silent as they drove away from the street where Ricky had spent the largest part of his life. There was a vacant house on the other side. A `For Sale’ sign had been hung up. This, Ricky remembered, was the house that Bradley had broken into–the one that the Superintendent was supposed to move into. Apparently, the owners had opted to pull out of living there after one of the rooms was vandalized. Other familiar houses rolled past with blinding speed. Ricky tried to remember the names of all the families that lived in them. One, he recalled, had a dog that used to chase him. The owner was forced to put it down back in fourth grade after somebody ran over the poor thing. At the time, Ricky was relieved. The more he thought about it, though, the more it seemed sad. He had never cared for the dog, but the owner had loved them. It was a confusing blend of emotions, so he had opted to ignore it and focus on something else. That same mixture of grief, joy, and confusion built inside of him now. Ricky considered fleeing from his emotions again. Surely, given the circumstances, he could get lost in the pages of a book. He was really regretting letting his mother pack up his Gameboy. Something caught the corner of Ricky’s eye just as he was about to turn to the first page. There was a boy standing on the corner of the street. Ricky felt their eyes lock. Slowly, Jeramie LeCleaux raised one hand and waved. The book promptly fell to the floor of the truck. Ricky’s body shook as he fumbled for the handle that would roll the window down. His father saw what was happening and slowed down. “Hey!” Ricky called out. As the truck came to a stop, Jeramie hurried forward. “Hey,” he said, his own voice trembling. “I’ll… we’ll come back for a visit.” Ricky whirled around to face his father. “Right, Dad?” His father smiled. “Sure we will. Your mother’d never forgive me if I didn’t bring you around every now and again. And I’ve had enough of an earful from her to last a lifetime!” The two chortled for a moment. But then, Ricky turned back to face his friend. “You gonna be able to fight crime without me?” he asked. Jeramie was wiping his eyes. “Yeah,” he said miserably. “But it’s not gonna be the same.” “Hell no, it won’t!” Ricky declared. “We make an unbeatable team.” A smile tugged at the corner of Jeramie’s mouth. “Yeah, we do,” he admitted. “Always will, too.” Seeing that this was the moment, Ricky’s Dad turned the wheel and tapped lightly on the gas. Jeramie backed slowly away from the truck. Tears flowed freely down his face while he stood at the corner, watching as it drove away. When they were about a hundred feet from him, Ricky stuck his head out the window. “Bye, Jeramie!” he called out. The sound seemed to echo down the street and through the neighborhood. “Bye, Ricky!” Jeramie said, trying to shout, only to have his voice crack. “I love you…” The eleven-year old stood perfectly still while the truck moved on down the road. Ricky pulled his head back inside the cabin, disappearing from sight. He was still there when the truck turned, taking the road that would eventually bring them to the highway. From there, they would travel out of Pembrooke Falls toward the state line. Despite Ricky’s assurances that he would be back, Jeramie knew things were going to be different. He could feel it. Change had come, bringing with it the cloud of the Unknown and Uncertain. He stood there a while longer, half-hoping that Ricky would change his mind. Their truck never returned. In the end, Jeramie gave up standing at the corner. The walk back to his house was long. Jeramie couldn’t remember it ever taking this much time for him to reach home. He had never felt so bitterly lonely during the trip, either. Daddy was waiting for him on the couch when he stepped inside. Jeramie immediately ran into his father’s arms. Daddy held him tight while Jeramie wailed, crying his heart out. “I miss him so much,” Jeramie whimpered. “I know, son.” Daddy’s voice was soft and warm, wrapping his son up in it as securely as his arms did. “So do I.” Gradually, Jeramie’s sobs reduced to a soft crying. His body shook less. Exhaustion began to take hold. Soon, he was snoozing softly. Daddy held him the whole time. He had called in to work, citing a family emergency. One hand stroked his boy’s honey-colored locks while Jeramie slept. Sleep was his son’s friend, the medicine he needed to process his grief. Daddy never once left Jeramie’s side. At one point, he placed a chaste kiss on his boy’s forehead, careful all the while that he didn’t disturb him. “Sleep well, son.” In his sleep, Jeramie dreamed that he was sitting on the steps of his house, reading a book, when a boy from across the street approached him. “Hi, name’s Ricky. Wanna play together…?”

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