*Author’s Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, using Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned.


Chad Boyle sat on the bench and watched the Saturday afternoon shoppers parade by. The Courtyard Mall in Pinoak, Louisiana was designed to be like an open-air European market, even though there was a high ceiling over the expanse. There were no large box stores in the mall, just smaller individual boutiques, smaller independent vendors set up in the open floor plan.

The store Chad Boyle was seated in front of sold what Barbara Boyle, Chad’s mother would have called ‘whore rags.’ The tops were lacy scraps designed to leave bellies bare, designed to present cleavage. Other blouses were designed with cut-outs that exposed tantalizing glimpses of skin. The same was true of the jeans; most had naughty cut-outs designed to pique interest. The shorts were extremely short, exposing much of the wearer’s buttocks, presenting a camel toe.

The shop did sell men’s clothing, also designed to flaunt a man’s sexual prowess. To wear such clothing, though, a young man really had to be in good physical condition. A man had to be extremely confident in himself.

Chad watched an attractive African-American girl as she shuffled through the shorts. She found a pair of pink shorts and held them up. There was a heart cut-out over the left buttock, a club cut-out over the right buttock. The spade cut-out was over the right hip and the diamond cut-out was where the left pocket would have been.

“Can’t be wearing no panties with that,” Chad heard the girl say.

The girl looked at the shorts again, checked the price tag, checked the size, then moved on to a rack with some gauzy tops.

A young man walked past, interrupting Chad’s view of the young African-American beauty. Chad watched as the handsome young man strolled. He was blonde, with bulging arms, a flat, toned abdomen displayed in a sweatshirt that had been ripped to expose his belly, sleeves ripped off to display his muscular arms. His distressed jeans were snug, showing a nice lump in his front, displaying his taut backside in the rear.

An older man walked right behind the young man. Chad had almost risen to his feet to follow the handsome blonde youth, but knew if the older man was the boy’s Daddy, he wouldn’t appreciate another young man infringing on his territory. And if the older man was the young man’s father, he certainly wouldn’t appreciate a young man trying to pick up his son.

Chad followed the pair’s progress and thought back. A few years ago, when he was eighteen, he’d had a Daddy. Daddy was Marvin Brown, his foster parent, and Marvin had taught Chad how to suck a man’s cock. He then taught Chad how to open up his ass, to accept a man’s cock.

Chad’s father had been Alan Boyle. As in St. Elizabeth Parish Treasurer Alan Boyle. Then Secretary Boyle. Then Representative Boyle. When Chad was eighteen, Alan Boyle had been St. Elizabeth Parish President Alan Boyle.

Alan Boyle knew the number one rule of politics. It doesn’t matter how smart, or how stupid you are. It just matters how much dirt you have on others. Alan Boyle was born with no morals and had no qualms about running roughshod over anyone that stood in the way of his ambitions. He saw being Parish President as a springboard for Senator Ship of Louisiana. Then from there, Governorship, possibly even the White House.

Alan also saw his wife and only child as props. They were there to make him look good, a loving devoted father and loving devoted husband in front of the cameras.

Behind the scenes, Alan Boyle was a tyrant. Barbara turned a blind eye to Alan’s multiple affairs. She also turned a blind eye to his horrific beatings of their son. Alan would use a rattan switch on the boy, slashing with almost maniacal abandon at Chad’s flesh.

Then, when Chad was seventeen, Chad grabbed the switch and broke it, snapping it over his knee.

Alan pummeled the boy with his fists until Chad fell unconscious to the floor.

Teachers saw the numerous welts. P.E. Coaches saw the bruises and cuts. And they did nothing, said nothing. Alan Boyle was a dangerous man to cross.

Then one evening, at a debate between Adam Boyle and his challenge for re-election, Trevor Williams, Alan sneered and asked Trevor, “Is it true that your wife was a cover girl for Parasols magazine?”

Trevor smiled directly into the Channel 12 camera and declared, “Yes she was. My beautiful wife was on the cover of the May issue, the Mother’s Day issue. It was before we met, but I have a framed copy of that cover in my office, and I have a copy of the magazine in my bedside table. I am not ashamed of my wife’s beauty or her sexuality. But, President Boyle, is it true that you used money out of the road construction fund to pay for an abortion? One Ms. Lorilyn Gremillion? Wasn’t she your son’s girlfriend at the time that you checked into the DeGarde Inn with her?”

Chad actually felt canlı bahis şirketleri faint. He and Lorilyn had been dating since the second day of the ninth grade. They’d planned on going to the University of Louisiana at DeGarde together, and upon graduation, they would get married.

They’d both agreed that they’d wait until marriage; they’d be virgins on their wedding might. After their eighteenth birthdays, Chad’s was on October fifth, hers was on October sixth, they learned how to use their mouths on one another, to please one another.

Then in December, Lorilyn complained of an upset stomach and left school. That night, she took her father’s shotgun and blew the top of her head off.

And now Chad knew why. Being a staunch Catholic, Lorilyn considered abortion a grievous sin.

“You mother fucker!” both Alan and Chad screamed.

Chad was screaming at his father, his tyrannical, heartless father. At Lorilyn’s funeral, Alan had patted Chad’s shoulder in an almost fatherly gesture, then suggested Chad find someone that wasn’t so mentally unstable.

Alan was screaming his rage at Trevor. It was bad enough that this little upstart would dare challenge his bid for re-election, and according to the polls, was steadily gaining ground on him. It was really insufferable, that he would have to debate the little pipsqueak for a job that was rightfully his; he’d been the one to pay his dues in the lower offices. But to have this man that was barely old enough to shave stand there and expose his dalliance with that starry eyed tramp his son had been dating was inexcusable.

Trevor smiled. He also had the names of nearly a dozen eighteen and nineteen year old girls that had been guests of President Boyle. As well as times and dates of bribes Alan Boyle had accepted for projects around St. Elizabeth Parish. Projects that cost the taxpayers a pretty penny, but brought no benefit to the taxpayers.

Alan Boyle got the first punch in. Trevor had been blindsided; he’d not expected Alan Boyle to charge him.

Alan Boyle got in the first lick. Trevor got in the second, third, and fourth lick. He did not kick the unconscious man; Chad Boyle got that honor.

Richards, Pellichet, Jones & Associates, the law firm that Trevor Williams worked for did take Chad Boyle as a client in Boyle V Boyle and Boyle. The eighteen year old high school student was suing his father for years of physical, emotional, and mental abuse and suing his mother for failing to protect him, as well as mental and emotional abuse.

Richards, Pellichet, Jones & Associates also sued the School Board of St. Elizabeth Parish, Andrew Jackson Elementary School and Northside High School on behalf of Chad Alan Boyle. For years, school administrators as well as teachers turned a blind eye to the abuse suffered by one of their students.

Richards, Pellichet, Jones & Associates also sued the Parish of St. Elizabeth on behalf of the taxpayers of St. Elizabeth Parish.

While still in high school, while waiting for the suits to wend its way through the courts, Chad was placed in the home of Marvin and Estelle Brown. The couple had been foster parents for years, mainly to children with physical and mental challenges. Currently, they had two children, eleven year old twin girls. One of the girls had a spinal deformity, her sister did not.

In his ‘man cave,’ Marvin talked with Chad about the abuse he himself had suffered at the hands of his mother’s numerous boyfriends. His own father had also beaten him horribly, that is, whenever Cecil Brown wasn’t in prison.

“Then Mom brought home Uncle Gary,” Marvin smiled. “And Uncle Gary showed me that a man could be loving, and gentle and kind. And it didn’t make him less of a man.”

Marvin then pulled Chad into his lap. He cradled the eighteen year old man and kissed him on his pouting lips.

Marvin gave Chad a blow job, sucking all the spunk out of Chad’s fat seven and a half inches of cock. Then Marvin Brown showed Chad how to suck his six inches of meat, showed Chad how to relax his throat muscles, how to swallow Marvin’s hard member down to the root.

Anal sex hurt at first. But Chad grew to welcome the intrusion, came to welcome the sharp penetration, the warmth that welled up in his guts as Daddy fucked him.

Now, sitting on the marble bench in the Courtyard Mall, Chad watched, eyes hidden behind sunglasses as the cute young man and the older man continued toward the food court portion of the mall. Then he returned his attention to the cute young African-American woman as she browsed through the tops.

A pregnant woman walked past. She then stopped and looked at a display of shirts. Chad could feel his cock swelling in his khaki trousers as the young woman took a half shirt off of the rack and examined it.

Marvin and Estelle had a twenty four year old daughter, Gayle Brown-Jones. The girl came home a few months after Chad had moved in and smiled apologetically as Chad was forced to move out of her old room into the much smaller guest room at the end of the hall.

Gayle canlı kaçak iddaa had come home because she was seven months pregnant and her husband had been deployed to Afghanistan.

“It’s the stupid fucker’s third tour,” she said as she helped Chad move his clothes from her closet to the smaller room. “Almost like he wants be killed.”

That night, she came into Chad’s room, nude. Lorilyn had taught Chad how to lick a woman’s pussy, but Gayle taught Chad how to make love to a woman’s pussy.

When Lorilyn and Chad had engaged in their oral hijinks, it had been hurried, cramped fumbling in the back seat of Chad’s car. Here, on the full sized bed, Gayle and Chad could take their time.

“Use them fingers; almost like you afraid get them dirty,” Gayle hissed. “Don’t worry, I’ll lick them clean.”

She showed Chad how to fuck a woman hard and dirty. Gayle also showed him how to make love to a woman.

“Damn you got a nice Johnson, boy,” Gayle purred. “Ever corn hole? Course not; shit, ain’t never fucked a woman, how would you have corn holed one?”

The small room was dimly lighted by the street light outside of Chad’s window. In this dim light, Chad watched his slimy fingers lubricating Gayle’s tight rosebud. He wondered if the sight was the same for Daddy when Daddy greased up his tight little ass for fucking. It was a sensual sight, watching his thick fingers sliding in and out of such a small opening.

The feeling of his cock being strangled and squeezed by Gayle’s tight little shitter was indescribable. The sight of his cock spearing Gayle’s tight anal ring, the sight of her ring stretching to accommodate the invading cock almost had Chad spewing from the first contact.

He could imagine what Daddy saw when he was fucking Chad’s tight ass. He knew he liked, even craved the feeling of Daddy’s cock pushing into his tightness. Chad loved the feeling of Daddy’s flared cock head pushing, sliding along his rectal walls. He liked, loved the feeling of being full.

“Ugh, God damn you’re good, boy. Must like to fuck, huh?” Gayle giggled.

Now as he sat on the bench, Chad smiled as the pregnant woman flipped through the clothing.

“Those shoes comfortable?” Chad asked the young pregnant woman.

“These?” the red headed woman smiled. “Yeah they are. I know, they’re ugly as shit, but right now? Could care less about looks, know?”

“Yeah, not like you can see your feet anyway, huh?” Chad teased.

The woman had a wedding ring and an engagement ring on her left hand. But Gayle Brown-Jones had worn similar rings and they’d not stopped her from showing up in Chad’s room nearly every night until a week before delivering a bi-racial baby girl.

Staff Sergeant Byron Jones, a cute red head from Myndee, Arkansas filed for divorce from his blatantly unfaithful wife.

Chad graduated from high school and moved into a small apartment that Richards, Pellichet, Jones & Associates paid for while waiting for their cases to go to trial. Gayle seemed to take the failure of her marriage in stride. Chad was sure she would find herself another man soon.

Now, in the mall, the pregnant red head giggled at Chad’s light-hearted taunt, but did not continue their conversation. Instead, she put the half shirt back on the rack and waddled away.

Chad enrolled in General Studies at the University of Louisiana at DeGarde. He was neither a good or bad student. But, not having his father’s wrath to fear should he make anything less than a perfect score made him somewhat lazy. Not having Daddy to cradle him in his lap and encourage him made him less than motivated.

Donald Pellichet, the head of the team representing Chad Alan Boyle did have a little ‘Come To Jesus’ meeting with Chad.

“Mr. Boyle, you are an adult. You want to flunk out of college? That’s your business,” Donald said tightly. “But let’s be honest. If we don’t win, you’re up the creek. We don’t win, you’re going to need some way pay for that apartment. You’re going need some way pay for utilities. You’re going need some way pay for food. And being a college drop out? Doesn’t make your choices very big on how you’re going do all that.”

So, his second semester, Chad buckled down. He studied. He applied himself. His grades improved dramatically.

The young blonde man walked past again. This time, there was no older man walking behind him. The young man stopped and admired a pair of jeans that had leather patch pockets on the rear. The jeans were designed to emphasize, draw attention to the wearer’s buttocks.

“Hey, third place, right?” Chad said suddenly.

On his sixteenth birthday, Chad had started an exercise regiment of pushups, setups, and crunches, as well as jogging. He had hoped one day to be able to protect himself against his father.

In college, Chad joined the school’s gymnasium. A few of the jocks agreed to teach chad some basics of weight training. Chad had become good friends with Travis Stohler, a handsome young man that was on the Tennis team.

“Not here to bulk up, but do want canlı kaçak bahis build up strength, stamina,” Travis said as he helped Chad with squats. “Give me two more, come on, two more.”

After a workout, Travis and Chad went to Back Yard BBQ, enjoyed a hearty pulled pork sandwich, then went back to Travis’s apartment. There, Travis kissed Chad on his lips. The two made out for a few moments, then Travis eased Chad’s jeans and underwear down and sucked Chad’s fat cock to a quick climax.

Then, on the living room floor, Travis got down on his hands and knees, pulled his own jeans and underwear down to his knees and begged Chad to fuck him.

To this day, that was a favorite sight of Chad’s; a sweet ass pared, jeans and underwear bunched around the knees. He especially loved the sight of jock strap and jeans, like Travis had been wearing that night. A close second was crisp white briefs, followed closely by boxer briefs or boy shorts, if the ass happened to belong to a girl.

Least favorite was manties. Chad had been with one gorgeous young man, had brought the nineteen year old Computer Science major back to his apartment to work on a Sociology 101 project together. Bobby had been a scrawny young man with bargain brand jeans and a tee shirt for some video game. But he had a sweet face and a soft sweet demeanor.

Bobby had succumbed easily enough to Chad’s overtures and had nearly fainted when Chad sucked his four and a half inch cock to a surprisingly large climax.

Then when Chad eased Bobby onto his knees in the living room and eased jeans and underwear down, Chad saw that the underwear were skimpy micro-briefs, a polyester with the American Flag printed on them.

“Hey!” Bobby protested when Chad savagely ripped the offensive underwear off of his slender legs.

“I’ll buy you some new ones and they won’t be fucking panties, bitch,” Chad barked.

Bobby protested, whimpered and whined as Chad forced his cock into Bobby’s virgin ass. By the time Chad was beginning to thrust in and out, though, Bobby was grunting in pleasure.

Chad gave Bobby a fifty dollar bill, told him to buy some real man underwear, not sissy micro-briefs, kissed him and sent him back to the dormitory. Three nights later, Bobby came back to Chad’s apartment. This time, when Chad peeled jeans and briefs down, the underwear were a bright royal blue. So, that was the last time they fucked. Bobby did come back a few more times, but Chad was just not attracted to the young man any more.

Now, in the mall, Chad watched the well-muscled young man looking at the jeans and said, “Hey, third place, right?”

The blonde looked around, saw Chad and smiled.

“Yeah, you?” the young man asked.

“Watched it on TV,” Chad admitted. “Third place overall, right?”

“First in the clean and jerk; don’t forget that,” the young man smiled and held out his hand. “Jack.”

“Last name’s Meoff?” Chad asked, shaking the young man’s hand. “Chad.”

“No, it’s Truesdale,” Jack smiled. “So, you watched it on TV, huh?”

“Yeah, wasn’t shit on, I’m switching channels and I see the body building and weight lifting competition on Channel twelve,” Chad agreed.

“So, uh, you do weights?” Jack asked, lightly touching Chad’s arm through his button up dress shirt.

“Little bit,” Chad agreed and flexed.

“I uh, want get a coffee?” Jack asked.

“Can I blow you?” Chad asked, cutting past the game playing, getting right to the point.

“Where?” Jack asked.

“Come on,” Chad said, walking toward the alcove.

There was a long, narrow hallway in between an ATM and the mall’s small office. The mall had twelve bathrooms, six on each side of the hall. Each had a separate door that locked on the inside, each was wide enough to accommodate a wheelchair. Each stall had a commode. Down at the very end of the hall were four sinks and two towel dispensers.

Jack and Chad quickly ducked into an unoccupied bathroom and locked the door.

They kissed, Chad running his hands up the ripped sweatshirt and toying with Jack’s hard nipples. Jack cupped Chad’s hard cock through the snug jeans. Chad reached down and unzipped Jack’s jeans and groaned happily as he felt Jack’s jock strap. Then he sank to his knees and pulled jeans and jockstrap down. Jack had a thick uncircumcised cock and Chad gripped the hard member in his hand. There was no pubic hair; obviously Jack waxed his pubic region for his competition.

Chad got on his knees and licked all around the bulbous head of Jack’s cock, delving tongue between cock head and foreskin. His hand hefted Jack’s hairless balls, weighing them in his hand.

“Oh, God damn yes,” Jack moaned as Chad swallowed his cock down to the root.

And without warning, Jack began to spurt his semen down Chad’s throat.

Chad was a little disappointed; he had not even had a chance to begin stroking his cock. Just after he finished spurting his load, Jack zipped up his jeans and left the small cubicle.

So Chad quickly stroked off into the commode. Leaving the restroom, he washed his hands and dried them. HE smirked; other than touching his cock, touching another man’s cock, he’d not done anything to merit washing his hands. But his mother had instilled in him the habit of washing his hands after using the bathroom.



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