Chapter 33 

On the morning after Maggie had revealed to him that Michael and Karl were committed lovers, Clayton resolved that he would leave the ranch. He was convinced that Michael had deceived him and really didn't want him in the family . . . any more than his mother and father had wanted him. Just as the sun was rising, he set out on the highway with a few clothes, his razor and toothbrush, and his pocket radio. Since he thought he wanted nothing to remind himself of the Walkers, he left the picture of himself and Michael behind.

Clayton's intention was to hitchhike to San Antonio. On the road not far from the ranch, a young man in a pick-up truck stopped and offered him a ride.

"Hey, fella, how fer are ya goin'?"

"Just to San Antonio for now."

"Well, hop in. That's whar I'm goin'."

Several miles along, the man said, "I gotta stop here. I gotta take a piss. Come on. Ya might as well take a piss, too. It's a long drive to San Antone."

As Clayton unzipped and took out his penis, the man, as quick as lightning, pulled a switch-blade on him. "Okay, gimme your wallet."

Clayton stammered, "I haven't got a wallet. I don't have any money with me."

"Don't give me any of that shit. I can tell ya got money when I seen them fancy expensive boots ya got on and that fancy hat. That hat must a cost ya three hundred bucks. And after ya gimme yer money, I think I'll have yer hat and yer boots, too."

Clayton just stood there, almost paralyzed with fear. "I told you. I haven't got any money."

"Don't give me that fuckin' shit," the man growled as he slashed his knife across Clayton's arm.

Clayton dashed back to the truck and grabbed his cloth bag and started running down the road. As the man caught up with him, Clayton ran into the woods. Tripping and falling to the ground, he dropped his bag. He was able to scramble to his feet, though, before the man was able to catch up to him.

Leaving his bag behind, Clayton kept running while he held onto his arm. Blood was beginning to ooze through his fingers. Looking back he saw no sign of the man, who had apparently gone back to his truck. He sat down and began to shiver uncontrollably. He was so cold. He took off his shirt and then removed his undershirt and wrapped it as tightly as he could over the deep cut on his arm. He waited at least an hour until he thought the man had probably driven on, and walked again through the woods back toward the road.

Feeling exhausted and cold, Clayton sat down on a log beside the road as he held his thumb out to the passing cars. Soon a man and a woman pulled up.

"Are you going to San Antonio?" shouted the man.

Clayton nodded, "Yeah."

As they drove, the woman said, "Did you cut your arm?"

"Yeah."

Soon the car pulled into a gas station. The man got out, filled up the tank, and went inside to pay. Clayton also got out and went inside to get the key to the restroom. When they had both returned to the car, they were once again on their way.

"You should have that cut taken care of," said the woman.

The man then said, "When we get to San Antonio, we'll take you by the house and bandage it up for you. Also, are you hungry?"

Clayton nodded yes.

"Well, we'll give you something to eat , too."

Everyone then remained silent until the car pulled off the road and into a long winding drive lined with trees. They finally emerged into a clearing and stopped in front of a large two-story brick Colonial style mansion.

"Come on, let's go on in and get that arm taken care of and get something to eat. What's your name, young man?"

"My name is Clayton."

As they entered the house, Clayton felt as though he was entering into a dark basement. All the windows were covered and there was very little light to see by. There was a large curved stairway just ahead of him with a very dim light at the top.

The woman took Clayton by the arm and led him toward the stairs. "Clayton, come on with me and I'll take care of your arm. By the way, my name is Judith."

Judith led Clayton into a very dark room and turned on a tiny light that hung on the wall. Clayton could see that the room was almost empty except for two straight wooden chairs.

"Sit down here, Clayton, and I'll be right back with some warm water to wash off that wound and something to bandage it with."

As Judith left the room, she closed the door behind her, and Clayton could hear the lock being turned. He began to feel cold again. Getting up, he went to the window to find that the inside shutters had been bolted shut. He tried the door, and it was locked. Sitting down again, he resolved that when Judith opened the door, he would rush it and escape. He was now very frightened.

After a long time, Judith returned, but she slipped in quickly and locked the door behind her, dropping the key into the pocket of her slacks. She very gently washed off Clayton's arm and applied a thick gauze pad, over which she wrapped a compression bandage.

Clayton said, "Miss . . . Judith, I'd like to go now. Thank you for helping me. I'm not at all hungry. I'd really like to go now."

"Nonsense, Clayton. My husband is downstairs right now preparing something for you. And then we want you to meet our children. We didn't bring you all this way, and then not let you meet our children. You just stay right there and my husband will be in presently."

When he heard the lock being turned again, Clayton began to feel a real terror sweep over him. He began to shake, but was too frightened to cry out. He opened his mouth, but there was no sound.

Soon the door opened, and there standing in the dim light was Judith's husband. He was now shirtless, and his skin . . . the contour of his chest glistened in the faint light of the wall lamp.

"Oh, my God!" Clayton cried out in a panic. "Please let me go!"

"Don't be afraid, Clayton," the man said in a gentle voice. Sitting down in the other chair facing Clayton, he said, "We've been waiting for someone like you."

Reaching over and placing his hand gently on Clayton's cheek, he said. "When we saw you on the road, when I saw that beautiful dark curly hair, those erotic, dark eyes, slanting slightly upward, your narrow hips, the shape of your legs, wrapped in those tight jeans, I knew you were the one."

Clayton leapt from his chair and ran to the door, but it was locked. "Please let me go!"

"Clayton, come on back here. Nothing's going to happen to you. You'll have as much pleasure with us as we will." Holding his hand out, he said, "Come on back, dear boy."

Clayton walked slowly back and stood before the man. "Clayton, my name is Morgan. You can call me Morgan."

Morgan reached up and slowly unbuttoned Clayton's shirt. As he was about to slip the shirt off, Clayton yelled, "No!" and started to pull away. Morgan grabbed Clayton's arm and swung his fist hard against Clayton's head, knocking him to the floor. Clayton felt as though he was only semi-conscious and struggled to sit up.

"I'm sorry you made me do that, Clayton, but it seems that is the only way I can make you understand that you need to be nice. Please be nice, Clayton. I don't want to do that again. Okay?"

Morgan helped Clayton to his feet. Still very shaky, Clayton could feel himself being led out of the room and down the hall to another room. In that room was a large four-poster bed. Morgan picked Clayton up and laid him gently on the bed. Judith, now stripped down to only her panties, was sitting in a lounge chair at the foot of the bed. Clayton still felt dizzy and rather disoriented from the blow to his head and had no strength to resist as Morgan continued to very slowly and gently undress him.

Clayton then looked at Morgan and watched with no emotion as Morgan slowly peeled off his own clothes, revealing a sensuous body one could only dream of normally. It was not an over-developed muscular body . . . not an obscenely over-developed body like some of those that work out endlessly in gyms. Clayton continued to stare at Morgan's body. He no longer felt any emotion, no anger, no fright. He felt powerless. His mind remained fuzzy and he felt as though he was drifting in and out of consciousness. As Morgan climbed onto the bed and took Clayton's soft penis and balls into his mouth, Clayton could see Judith remove her panties and start fucking herself with a dildo as she watched.

As Morgan became more frenzied in his bathing of Clayton's body with his tongue, Clayton began to realize what was happening. He had been kidnapped in order to become this couple's sex slave. He'd read about these things. He also realized that he probably was not going to be hurt if he cooperated and didn't struggle against it. But that terrified feeling was now sweeping back over him, and he was afraid that he would be in real trouble again if he wasn't able to get his soft penis to turn hard. He closed his eyes and imagined that it was Michael who was sucking on him. As his penis began to harden, he was surprised that sexual thoughts about Michael were still floating in his fantasies.

Clayton could soon feel that tingle in his body that was always the precursor to an orgasm. But Morgan pulled off and threw Clayton's legs up in the air and thrust his hard dry cock into his asshole as Clayton called out in pain. Morgan was no longer gentle. He pounded his pelvis unmercifully hard against Clayton's ass. It was so painful, tears came to his eyes. He was afraid to plead for Morgan to stop because he feared that Morgan would hit him again. Soon, Judith started to moan loudly indicating that she was going through an orgasm. When she was through, she got up and left the room.

A few minutes later, as Morgan continued to pump, the door opened and Judith re-entered, but this time holding the hands of two teenaged boys.

Judith said, "While Morgan is fucking you, let me introduce our two sons. This one's Danny, and this is his twin brother, Patrick. They have always liked to help us make our guests welcome."

Clayton looked through tear-filled eyes at these two boys and couldn't believe what their mother was telling him. Finally, Morgan let out several animalistic roars as Clayton could feel Morgan's penis throbbing against the rim of his asshole and the flood of hot cum filling his rectum.

When Morgan rolled off and lay on his back, still breathless from his exertion, Judith instructed the two teens to remove their clothes, which they dutifully did. Morgan finally stood up and announced to Clayton that they were going to leave him for a bit to give the boys a chance to get acquainted with him. Without another word, Morgan began tying leather straps onto Clayton's wrists and ankles, which he secured to the four bedposts.

"Now, my dear, sweet, young man, this will help prevent any . . . shall we say, accidents while I'm gone." Turning to his sons, he said, "Remember, boys. Be nice to our guest. He has the right to have as much enjoyment as you will have."

After Morgan and Judith left, Danny stood looking down at Clayton, who said, "Danny, would you untie my hands. Please."

Patrick said, "Don't do it, Danny. You know that Dad's gonna kill us if you do."

As Patrick sat down at the foot of the bed, Danny said, "He's not gonna run away as long as his feet are tied."

When Danny untied Clayton's hands, Clayton let his arms drop to his sides. "Why don't you untie my feet, too. You're good boys. You won't get into trouble. I won't try to leave."

As Danny began untying the ankle straps, Morgan burst into the room. Seeing that Clayton's hands were free, he flew into a rage. Striding over to the bed, he threw both boys to the floor and, with his fist, swung at Clayton, hitting him twice on the side of the head. Clayton was knocked out immediately. Retying the straps, Morgan stormed from the room, locking the door behind him. Clayton lay unconscious on the bed with his arms and legs stretched out and strapped to the bed posts, while the two boys lay on the floor whimpering. Morgan had extinguished the light as he left. As the slivers of light that shown in from around the bolted shutters faded, the boys could tell that night had come. They held on to each other, naked, cold and hungry.

Clayton soon began to regain consciousness, but his head was pounding and his vision seemed blurred as he saw the faint rays of the morning sun coming through the cracks in the shutters. He felt so helpless. His ankles and wrists were very sore and he could feel cramping in his legs. He had to go to the bathroom and his rectum ached from the violent fucking he had received the day before. Soon, he couldn't hold it any longer and his urine started streaming out of his penis onto the bed and all over his legs. He started to cry and tears were blinding him. With his hands tied, there was no way he could wipe them from his eyes.

Danny and Patrick had both slept on the floor, but were now stirring. Clayton could hear what clearly sounded like them peeing on the floor over in the corner.

Eventually, the door was unlocked, and Judith came in with a tray of buttered bread and water. She gave several slices to Danny and Patrick, and sat down on the side of the bed, where she held the bread for Clayton as he ate. The boys tried the door, but found that their mother had locked it behind her.

"Boys, your father was very disappointed in you yesterday for untying the straps. You were left in here all night as your punishment. Your father will be here shortly, and then you will need to play with Clayton here for your father's enjoyment. You know how we always do this. And I can't understand why you do things that get him angry."

Soon, Morgan appeared at the door, this time naked, except for a heavy leather belt around his waist. Clayton closed his eyes and prayed that he would once again drift into unconsciousness.

Meanwhile, Mark and Corky rode up and down the highway between the ranch and the San Antonio city limits looking for more clues and talking with people who worked or resided along the route. They stopped in at the Lucas café. Josh Lucas had been a boyhood friend of Mark's when they both lived in Victoria, and through many, many hours of sexual experimentation with each other out in the woods after school, they learned and enjoyed just about everything there was to know about boy-to-boy and man-to-man sex. They both had masturbated successfully for the first time with each other, and they both had given each other their first blow jobs. Before Mark met Corky, and while he was still a Texas State Trooper, he would often stop in at the Josh's café, and they would go into Josh's private restroom and shoot a load of cum into each other. Josh now had a lover and a partner in the café, whose name was Peter.

Mark introduced Corky to both Josh and Peter as his lover and partner in his new business as a private eye. Josh said, "Hey, why don't the four of us get together some weekend up in San Antonio. We could do that this coming April when Fiesta will be on in San Antonio. We could have a great time together." Turning to Corky, Josh said, "If Mark still sucks a cock like he used to when we were kids, you get some great cocksucking, I'll say that!"

"Well, if we all get together next April at Fiesta," said Corky, "maybe you can test him out again to see if he's like you remembered. I give my permission."

Josh smiled and said, "Great! Maybe we can all test one another out. Okay?"

Mark just said, "Well, Josh, we'll just see how it goes."

Corky's good looks and the very prominent bulge in his jeans were not lost on either Josh or Peter. When Corky excused himself to go to the restroom, both Josh and Peter suddenly felt they needed to go, too. They stood at urinals on either side of Corky and made no secret that they were there to get a good look at Corky's penis. Peter dropped his hand down the back of Corky's pants and swirled it around on Corky's smooth, firm butt cheeks.

Corky suddenly pulled back and stuffed his hardening penis back into his pants. "Hey you guys. Can't you wait until April? Didn't you hear Mark say that we'll see how it goes? Mark's my boss and he's my everything else . . . my lover, my inspiration, my everything else. What he says goes for me."

"Okay," sighed Josh. "We understand. April! Here we come!"

As Mark and Corky sat at the counter sipping coffee, Mark handed the picture of Clayton to Josh.

"Josh, have you seen this young man anytime in the last few days? We were wondering if he may have come in here for something to eat. He's a nephew of Michael Walker's down on the Walker Ranch. He just disappeared, and they're worried about him."

Josh and Peter examined the picture. Josh said, "I can see this young man is a real beauty. But I don't think he's ever been in our restaurant . . . not when either of the two of us have been here. I know we would have remembered a guy who looked like that. Sorry."

On their next stop, Mark and Corky stopped at a gas station about two more miles further up the road. As Corky filled up their tank, Mark took the picture inside and showed it to the mechanic, the only one on the premises at the time.

"Yeah," the mechanic said as he examined the picture. "Yeah, I think I seen him. He was with some other people and I remember him comin' in and gittin' the shit house key."

"Did he say anything, like maybe where he was headed? Or was he with anybody?"

"Yeah, he didn't say nothin', but he was riding with some other people. He got back in their car and they drove off."

"Do you have any idea who these other people were," asked Mark.

"Oh yeah. Them people were the O'Neals. Morgan and Judith O'Neal. They stop fer gas here all the time. I see them a lot drivin' both directions on this road."

"Do you know where they live?"

"Ain't got no idea. I see 'em drivin' south a lot, and I see 'em drivin' north a lot. Ain't got no idea."

As they drove off, Mark said, "Well, Corky, we're getting warmer. We've got a name now to look up."

Back in San Antonio, they searched the telephone directory and found no one with the name of Morgan or Judith O'Neal. There were, however, three listings for M. O'Neal. Calling the first one revealed that it belonged to a Mary O'Neal who lived in a retirement home. She responded with a very elderly sounding voice, saying, "I don't talk to magazine salesmen," and hung up. The second one turned out to be a number no longer in service.

But after dialing the third number, Mark asked to speak to Morgan O'Neal. The woman on the other end said, "I'm sorry, Morgan O'Neal cannot come to the phone right now. May I take a message?"

Mark thought fast and said, "No. My name is Mitchell O'Neal, and I have just had a package delivered in error to me that is addressed to a Morgan O'Neal. If you will give me your address, I shall be happy to have the package forwarded to you or deliver it to you."

The woman gladly gave Mark their address and told him that she would prefer that he have the post office forward the package, rather than his coming to their house.

As Morgan stood looking at Clayton, Judith entered the room with a pan of water and some towels. She proceeded to wash Clayton's legs where he had urinated on himself and then slipped a plastic pad under him to cover up the soaked sheet.

Motioning to his sons, Morgan said, "Get up here Danny. I want to watch you suck on Clayton's balls and on his cock. And do it the way I've shown you before."

As Danny dutifully did as his father instructed, Clayton kept his eyes closed and continued to pray to fall into unconsciousness.

"Now, Patrick, I'm going to untie his ankle straps and hold his legs up in the air, and I want you to get up here and eat out his ass. And I mean really suck on it."

While observing Patrick sucking on Clayton's asshole, Morgan stood close by stroking his own cock. After a few minutes, he said, "Okay Patrick, I want to see you fuck him. And I want to see you fuck him really hard."

Clayton grimaced as Patrick gently pushed his hard penis into his asshole. His asshole was still very sore, but he was thankful that Patrick's penis was somewhat thinner than Morgan's man-sized cock. As Patrick continued to thrust his penis in and out of Clayton's hole, Morgan motioned for his son Danny to lie next to Clayton. Holding Danny's legs in the air, Morgan plunged his steel hard cock into his hole. Clayton glanced over and could see a look of terrible pain on Danny's face.

Morgan said, "Be prepared, Clayton, when I'm ready to cum, I'm not going to shoot it up Danny's boy cunt, I'm going to straddle your face and let you take my whole load down your throat."

Clayton now knew better than to object or say anything at all. He knew how long and fat Morgan's cock was and he was certain that he was going to gag and choke to death. Suddenly, Morgan pulled out of his son's asshole and leaped up, pressing his cock onto Clayton's closed lips.

"Open your fuckin' mouth, you fuckin' whore boy. When Clayton saw Morgan lift his fist again, he opened his mouth wide, allowing Morgan's enormous rod to plunge to the back of his throat. He could feel that hard penis begin to throb against the roof of his mouth and on his tongue. And then he felt and tasted the hot flow of sperm flooding his mouth and gagging him as it flowed down his throat..

Patrick was still pushing his own cock in and out of Clayton's hole. He said with a trembling voice, "Dad, I can't cum. I'm sorry I just can't cum."

Morgan violently pushed Patrick off of Clayton and on to the floor, and motioned Danny to fuck Clayton, instead. This time, Clayton could feel Danny's sperm shooting into him. As Danny pulled out, Clayton threw his feet over the side and struggled to pull his hands free. Morgan hit Clayton very hard across the face and shouted, "You goddamned son-of-a-bitch. You need to be taught a lesson, you ungrateful whore-boy. As a guest in this house, you should be more grateful for the good times we're giving you. You're gonna lie here and I'm gonna fuck the shit out of you until you decide you're grateful for what we're giving you and thank us for it.

Clayton once again felt himself sinking out of consciousness.

Morgan looked at his two sons, who had now moved to the corner of the room and were cowering on the floor. "Okay, you little boy cunts, you can leave the room now. But I'm afraid that Clayton here needs to stay put until he gets his fucking attitude straightened out."

Mark and Corky drove up the long drive to the O'Neal house. Parking on the circular turn-around by the front door, Mark got on his radio and alerted the police to come into the vicinity in case they were needed. Going to the door, they rang the doorbell. Judith answered the door and asked them what they wanted.

Mark said, "Mrs. O'Neal, we're private investigators and we're trying to find the whereabouts of a young man whose name is Clayton Adams."

Judith replied, "We don't know anybody by the name of Clayton. I can't help you."

Just then, Danny, who was standing behind his mother, jumped in front of her and said, "Mom, sure we know Clayton. We have him upstairs."

Grabbing Danny by the shoulders and pushing him back, Judith said, "Shut up, Danny. I don't know what my son is talking about. We don't have anyone by the name of Clayton in this house."

"But, Mom!" shouted Danny. "He's upstairs with Dad."

"Ma'am, we're just going to sit over there in the car and make our report. Thanks for talking to us. Judith closed the door and Mark and Corky jumped into the car.

"Corky, we've found Clayton. Keep an eye out in case they try to leave while I call the police to come in here and surround the place."

It took only three or four minutes for five police cars to arrive, each filled with policemen. The Chief conferred for a few minutes with Mark to confirm that they may be dealing here with a kidnapping. He then ordered his men to surround the house. Just then, as the police were getting out of their cars, a car was seen speeding away from the back of the house with two people in it. The front door of the house opened and the two teenagers stepped out on the porch. Both were practically naked, except for the briefs they were wearing.

"Young man!" shouted Mark from the yard. "Is Clayton in the house?"

"Danny ran to Mark crying and threw his arms around him. "Yes, he's upstairs. I think he's hurt."

With guns drawn, the chief and several police officers went inside with the boys, who led them upstairs to the dark room in which Clayton was being held captive. Mark and Corky followed close behind. As the boys opened the door, they found Clayton still strapped naked to the bed, and unconscious. Mark and Corky had known Clayton briefly and were shocked when they saw him. Corky choked back tears as he cut away the straps holding Clayton to the bed. He was almost unrecognizable with both of his eyes black and swollen and with a large swelling on the side of his head. There was blood on the mat between his legs and signs of semen were visible on his crotch, indicating that he had likely been violently raped. Corky, with his own eyes red with sadness and anger, picked up Clayton's limp, naked body and carried him downstairs to the front porch.

Turning to one of the boys, Corky asked, "Where are his clothes? We need to get him dressed."

"I'll get them right away," said Danny.

An ambulance had been called, which arrived quickly. It departed immediately to Methodist Hospital in San Antonio, with Mark and Corky following. The two boys were put in a police car and taken to police headquarters where they would be met by police interrogators and social service representatives.

As Mark drove the car, Corky got on the cell phone and called Michael. "Michael, Mark and I found Clayton. He's very badly injured, and is on his way to Methodist Hospital in San Antonio."

"Oh, I'm so relieved. What happened, Corky? Where did you find him?"

"Well, Michael, he had been kidnapped. We'll tell you all about it when we see you."

Michael said, "I'm going to get in the car right now and drive up there. Karl won't be returning here until tomorrow morning. Will I see you at the hospital?"

"Yes. See you then."

Between Mark and Corky, Corky was always the more emotional of the two. As he sat in the ICU watching Clayton, who was still in a coma, he couldn't keep the tears from his eyes. He thought, 'How could anyone do that to this dear, innocent boy?"

Meanwhile, the two boys, Danny and Patrick sat very frightened in the police station, visibly shaking and holding on to each other. A very nice policewoman had them in a room where she quietly asked them what had been going on. They told her the whole story about how their parents for several years would pick up young men and bring them home and use them for their sexual pleasures. They told also of how they had, during the past year or so, been forced to engage in sexual activity with these young men as their parents looked on. Proceedings were begun immediately with the courts to get the boys into the foster care system.

Morgan and Judith O'Neal were very quickly apprehended and were being held in county jail awaiting charges of kidnapping and sexual battery.

Mark and Corky looked at each other and, as sad and angry as they felt over what had happened, they were so proud of themselves for having found Clayton as quickly as they did.

Back in their car in the hospital parking lot, Mark and Corky hugged each other. Mark said, "Corky, I love you. I love you like the dickens! Let's go out for a big steak dinner over at Max Fern's Steak house and then get drunk! How about it, my beautiful lover with the gorgeous lips I can never resist! Leaning over and kissing Corky on the lips, he could see out of the corner of his eye a rather portly woman getting out of the car parked next to them. With a scowl on her face, she hesitated and then stared at them. Through the corner of his mouth, Mark said, "Just keep kissing me . . . don't pull away. We have an audience. She looks like she hates what she sees. But I'll bet her old pussy's twitching at the sight. Mark turned his head very slightly and looked at her. Then he gave her a big wink. She then very obviously caught her breath, threw her head back, and hurried away.

When Michael arrived at the ICU where Clayton had been taken, Clayton was just waking up. Michael leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Oh, Clayton, I'm so glad they found you. But why were you so foolish? You didn't have to run away. We could have talked about it. I could have made you understand."

Clayton only stared at Michael. Then he said, "I'm so tired."

Michael sat with Clayton as he once again drifted off to sleep. Several hours later, Clayton re-awoke. Rather than looking at Michael, he turned his head and stared out of the window.

"Clayton," said Michael," you're my son, you know, and I love you."

Without looking away from the window, Clayton said softly, "I'm not your son, and don't tell me you love me."

"When you get out of here, you'll come back to the ranch and we'll go off together and have some long talks," said Michael.

Clayton countered, "When I get out of here, I'll go off somewhere by myself, and you'll never have to worry about me interfering with you and Karl."

Michael didn't feel that any further discussion about it at this point would be productive. After a several long minutes, Michael spoke again.

"You know, Clayton, Tony has been very worried about you. He wanted to come up here with me to see you. But Maggie needed him there to help with the evening meal for the hands."

Clayton turned to look at Michael. "Tony's been worried about me?" Then looking out the window again, he said, "I really love Tony. But just like with you, it's all a big mistake. I'll be out of both of your lives pretty soon, and then neither of you will have to do any fretting about me."

"Tony loves you, too, Clayton. He didn't tell me, but he told Maggie that he was afraid you would never feel the same way about him. You know, Clayton, Tony came down here to Texas just to follow Karl, who had always been the love of his life. But he eventually realized that Karl and I were committed to each other and he finally accepted that. Now Tony doesn't think about anyone but you. You should have seen how frantic he was when he discovered you were gone. He went out looking for you.

Clayton looked at Michael intently. "He told Maggie he loves me? Did he really? Do you think he meant it, or was he just playing games?"

"Clayton, Tony has not had an easy life. He's been hurt a lot. You and he have struck up a friendship since you came to the ranch, and he's not playing any game. He loves you, Clayton. Take my word for it."

"Do you think Tony could come and see me?" said Clayton hopefully.

"I don't know if it's a good idea, Clayton. I know he wants to see you. But if you're just going to walk away from us all when you get out of here, there's no sense in doing anything now that would get poor Tony's hopes up. It would just hurt him."

Clayton looked back through the window. Michael knew that Clayton was now, in his mind, reconsidering his options.

"Clayton, the doctors say you'll be here a few more days. This will give you time to think about coming home to your family at the ranch. Anyway, the police want to ask you a lot of questions about what happened."

Clayton smiled faintly at Michael. To hear the words "home" and "family" from Michael was like the reassuring and comfortable feel of a warm blanket being wrapped around him.

Michael kissed Clayton again on the cheek, and this time Clayton returned the kiss. Michael told him that he had to return to the ranch that night because he expected Karl back from his trip on an early plane the next morning. He assured Clayton that he would let Tony come up to visit him.

The next morning, as soon as Karl returned, he ran into the kitchen with his luggage and asked where Michael was. Maggie turned and gave Karl a kiss and told him that Michael was in his small office off of their bedroom.

Karl ran back and, dropping his luggage on the floor, met Michael just coming out of his office. They flew into each other's arms and hugged and kissed deeply. Neither wanted to stop since stopping might mean that they would have to begin the serious discussion that both knew had to occur.

"Has Clayton been found yet?" Karl asked.

"Yes, he was finally found yesterday. He's not in very good shape. I'll tell you about it later. Karl, do you know what I'd like to do? I'd like to have you and I go out to my house in the Cottonwoods and have a few drinks, get drunk if we want to, eat there, and stay over night. I just can't share you with anyone this evening."

"Share me?"

"You know what I mean. If we stay here, there will be Maggie eating with us and talking, as well as Tony, and whoever else comes into the house. I just think we both have some things we have to talk about that requires our full attention to each other. Okay?"

"Michael, I can't think of anything that I would rather do."

"I had Jake lay a fire in the fireplace up there. That way, we won't have to fire up the furnace."

"Yeah," responded Karl, "and a fire in the fireplace is a lot more romantic."

Michael held onto Karl, kissed him again, and said, "There has to be more with us tonight there than just romance."

"I know, Michael."

Maggie had earlier been informed of Michael's plan, and she had prepared a large thermos jug of hot vegetable soup for Michael and Karl to take with them. There would be enough for at least three large bowls full for each of them if they wanted it. Also, she was sending along a large basket of rolls that they were instructed to heat up in the toaster oven when they got there.

Michael and Karl took the open jeep. There was a bitter cold wind blowing across the range as they drove to the little house. When they entered, Michael lit the fire and said, "Jake really knows how to build a wood fire. All I have to do is light it, and look how evenly and nice it starts to burn."

"I assume you want your usual, Michael. Scotch and Soda," shouted Karl from the kitchen.

"Of course, Karl. But this time be light on the soda."

They both sat down on the two-seater sofa that they pulled up in front of the large stone fireplace. Sitting down, they could look off to their right through the large picture window and watch a blazing red, yellow, and orange sunset slowly fading into darkness.

They both sat silently for a long time staring into the fire and sipping on their Scotch until Karl said, "Michael . . . ."

"Don't say anything, Karl," Michael interrupted. "I want to say something first. The reason I called you in San Antonio wasn't to tell you about the disappearance of Clayton. It was about Clayton, alright, but it was to tell you . . . to admit to you . . . that . . . . Oh, God, Karl, I don't know how else to say it. He and I slept with each other that night. When it was over, I knew I had done something wrong and before the sun came up, I told him to go back to his room. I hardly slept for the rest of the night. The guilt was killing me. That's why I called you."

Karl got up and picked up the poker from the stand on the hearth. He held it in his hand for a few moments as he stared into the fire. He then caught the burning log with the hook side of the poker and turned it over, causing a huge spray of sparks to rise up into the flue. Turning slowly around, he faced Michael. With a wry smile on his face, he walked over and knelt down in front of him.

Taking Michael's hand in his, Karl said, "Oh, Michael. Was that all it was? Clayton was looking for someone to love him. We both knew that. And I'll be willing to bet he came to your bed himself. You didn't take him to bed. Am I right?"

Michael nodded almost imperceptibly.

"I've talked with Clayton from time to time," Karl continued. "He considers you . . . or wants to consider you his father. He's your nephew, Michael. But he wants to be your son. He loves you. His coming to your bed was an expression of his love. It was the way he believed he should . . . or the way he had long yearned to express his love for you, Michael. No. He's your son, Michael, just as Jeff is your son. I've even heard you refer to him sometimes as your son. If this is the way you both wish to express your father and son love for each other . . . the same way you and your son Jeff express your love for each other . . . then it's right for you to do it. I will never consider it a break in your commitment to me."

Karl went from a kneeling position to sitting on the floor facing the fire with his head resting on Michael's knee and his hand lightly massaging his thigh.

Michael sat stunned, staring into the fire. What had just happened, he asked himself. Did he hear it right? Had Karl just forgiven him? Or didn't Karl consider his having sex, albeit only masturbation, with Clayton as an act of infidelity? What now? There was still the question of Karl's infidelity. He obviously had another man in bed with him, and surely Karl knew that Michael knew. Why is Karl just sitting there silently? Why isn't he giving me the courtesy of talking to me about it without my having to bring it up? Oh God, what should I do now?

Karl finally turned to face Michael and began to get up. "Michael, I have to get another drink, and then we can talk some more. Another for you?"

Staring intently into the fire, Michael said, "Oh yeah."

When Karl returned with the drinks, he said, "Okay, Michael. I'm ready to talk about me . . . about what you heard on the phone that night."

Michael didn't know what to say . . . how to begin.

"All I can do," continued Karl, "is to just tell you what happened. When I finished talking to the Co-op that day, I went back to the Menger Hotel. I was not very successful at the Co-op and I had several double Scotches on the rocks at the hotel bar. I got into conversation with the bartender. He wasn't particularly busy and we started telling each other about our lives. I think it wasn't too long before we both realized we were attracted to each other. He kept telling me he loved my English accent. He asked me what room I was in. I couldn't remember, so I took out my key and showed it to him. He must have written down the number. I have to admit I thought he was so hot. But I was getting so high, he told me he wasn't going to sell me anymore drinks, and that I should go on up to bed.

"When I finally got in bed, there was a knock at the door. It was the bartender. He said it was midnight, and that is when he got off. He took off his clothes and hung them up without saying very much, and then got in bed with me. He was so hot, Michael, I let him in. But, honest to God, Michael, I couldn't get a hard-on. He kept working on me and nothing happened. He kept saying he understood, and that my problem was due to drinking too much. We were lying there just cuddling and kissing when you called. Michael, I don't blame you for not believing me. He left the room right after you called, but he gave me his name and phone number and told me he would like me to call him sometime when I was sober. I'm never going to call him, but I'm going to give you his phone number and I want you to call him. He'll tell you that nothing sexual happened and about how smashed I was."

Michael said nothing. He just kept staring into the fire and sipping on his drink. Of course, he was going to believe Karl. What else could he do? What happened happened, whether or not he knew the truth. No amount of further questions or doubts would ever be worth losing Karl. There was still one major agonizing fact that had not been mentioned, and it troubled Michael more than any other. And that was the night that he and Jeff and Paul spent in Adriano and Charlie's bed. He had no excuse for that. It was something that happened after he learned that Karl was in bed with someone in San Antonio. It was a stupid thing to do. It was an immature thing to do. How could he admit this to Karl?

"Karl. There's one other thing. I'll just come out and tell you, and then if you want to, you can get up and walk out on me. The morning after I was with Clayton, I went up to Austin to see Jeff. I just needed to be with him. And, of course, you can imagine he and Paul and I slept together that night. But we've talked about that before, and we agreed that I could never give up on Jeff, or Paul if he was also there. But they talked me into going over and having dinner the next night with Adriano and Charlie. I guess it was just like you. I had too much to drink and the five of us ended up in bed together. I guess I'm just a whore, Karl. You never knew that, did you?"

Karl was sitting next to Michael and put his arm around him. "Ya, Michael," Karl said with a smile. "I always knew you were just a fuckin' slut. Why do you think I went after you and finally caught you. I wanted a piece of that action."

Michael said, "Don't joke, Karl. I'm beginning to lose respect for myself."

"Why?"

"Because of what I've done. Do you really think I'm a slut?"

"Uh ha," Karl nodded.

Michael sat quietly and continued to stare into the fire. Karl took Michael's head in his hands and kissed him deeply.

"Michael, just forget it," whispered Karl. "I was drunk. You were drunk. You were upset. Let's just forget it. Do you love me, Michael?

"More than anything. Do you still love me?"

"Yes, more than anything."

Karl and Michael stood up, and while standing in front of the fire, they slowly undressed each other, revealing each other's nakedness in the flickering red-orange light of the fire. Sinking to the floor and stretching their bodies out on the white fur rug before the fire, they wrapped themselves in each other's arms and made love until dawn.
 

To be continued...