The Turtle

by Alan Dwight

alantfraserdwight@gmail.com

Although it was still summer, the August sun set earlier than it had in July, and it was almost sundown when I arrived at the park. Nearly every summer evening I walked the short distance from my house to the bench in the park. I liked to sit there beside the bandstand and think as I watched the daylight fade and the first stars come out.

I had few friends, and in the summer, the only thing I did with them was play an occasional soccer or softball game in the park. But I didn’t mind being alone. In fact, I rather liked it. After being so busy during the school year, it was pleasant to read alone, or sit alone, or think alone. So, I was happy being on that bench, watching the sunset.

I watched as the sun slowly sank behind the trees on the far side of the park. The colors of the sunset that night were spectacular ─ pinks and oranges and reds and purples. As dusk settled in and the sky grew dark, I gazed up at the emerging stars, looking for the constellations I knew.

Slowly, I became aware that there was somebody behind me. I turned to look. The person was wearing blue jeans and a hoodie which hid his face.

He looks like a turtle pulled back into his shell, I thought. I could detect a distinct odor, like he hadn’t bathed in a long time.

“Why did you sneak up on me?” I asked.

At first there was no reply. Then, instead of answering my question, he asked, “You got any money?” He was young, like I was, and his voice, also like mine, was changing.

“Are you gonna rob me?” I asked.

“No, but I haven’t eaten for four days.”

“No offense, but you haven’t bathed in longer than that.”

“Ten days,” he said, coming around to the front of the bench and sitting down. “I know I stink.”

“Why haven’t you eaten?” I asked.

“I ran away from home.”

“So you want some money to buy food? There’s a McDonalds right down the road.” I held out some money. “Here.”

“I can’t leave here. Could you get some for me?”

“You want me to get it for you?”

“Yeah, I’m starving.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll bring you something.”

I walked out to the road and turned left. Why am I doing this? I wondered. I don’t even know him.

At McDonalds I bought a Big Mac, fries, and a coke. Then I returned to the bench, but the boy was gone.

“Where are you?” I called.

“Here,” he replied, emerging from the shadows.

“I hope this helps,” I said, handing him the bag of food. I’d never seen a person eat so fast. I swear, in less than two minutes the food was gone.

“Uh-oh,” he said, beginning to move away from the bench. Suddenly he vomited. Everything he’d eaten came back up.

“Oh, shit!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking as he spoke. He came back to the bench. As he sat, I could feel the bench shaking. I put a hand on his leg and sure enough he was shaking, too. I moved my hand inside his hoodie to his forehead and knew he had a fever, probably over a hundred degrees.

“You’re sick,” I said. “I think I should call the EMTs.”

“NO!” he pleaded. “The cops are looking for me.” He pulled back into his shell and stopped talking. I still hadn’t really seen his face.

“So what are you gonna do?”

Silence.

I waited a little and then asked again.

This time he answered quietly, “I don’t know.”

“What are your options?”

He sighed. “If I stay here, I’ll probably die of starvation.” He paused and then added, “If I go anywhere, my father will find me.” Again he paused, before finally saying, “Frankly, I’d rather die.”

That sent a chill through me. I couldn’t let him just die.

I thought a moment before saying, “Okay, you’re coming home with me. I can get you into the house and up to my bedroom with nobody seeing us.”

“How?”

“I have a little apartment over our attached garage. It has two small rooms and a bathroom. We can go in the back door and right up the back stairs to my rooms. If anyone hears us, they’ll just think it’s me coming home. I go home almost every summer evening about this time.”

He thought before murmuring, “Okay.”

“Can you walk?” I asked.

“I can try.” He stood shakily and tried to put one foot in front of the other. He was unsteady, so I took his arm and helped him. We left the park, crossed the street, walked two blocks, and we were at my house. “We have to go very quietly,” I told him. Taking him around to the back door, I opened it silently and led him up the back stairs.

A year ago, I had moved into the two rooms and bathroom over the garage, telling my dad I wanted more privacy. Probably, the rooms were originally intended for a maid or a cook. What I really wanted was a place where I could play my music loudly and not disturb either him or Maisy.

Maisy lived with us. She cleaned and cooked except on Wednesdays, when she had time off, and on Sunday mornings she went to church. She was willing to move out of the servants’ rooms to a room in the house. After that she didn’t go into my rooms because I cleaned them myself. Well, I sort of cleaned them. My cleaning wasn’t up to her standards, but I was satisfied.

In my bedroom I said, “Take off your clothes.”

“No way! I’m not getting naked for anybody.”

“Then how are you gonna take a bath?”

“Oh.” He thought for a moment before saying, “Don’t look.”

Weird, I thought. Hadn’t he gotten naked in his gym locker room when he went to school?

I went into the bathroom and turned on the water in the tub, letting it get as hot as I thought he could stand. Then I went back to my bedroom to fetch him. He was standing with his hands covering his privates. I was almost sickened by his stench, and I decided to wash him because he seemed pretty weak. I managed to get him into the bathroom, where I helped him climb into the tub, which was one of those big old ones with claw feet.

“How’s that?” I asked. “Is it too hot or cold?”

“Just right,” he answered.

I took a washcloth and soap and began to wash his back. I could feel the heat from his fever coming off him as I worked. Man, was he dirty.

Just to make conversation, I asked, “Where did you sleep?”

“Under the bandstand.”

“For ten days?”

He nodded.

“Even when we had that heavy rain two days ago?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that when you got sick?”

He nodded. “Probably. I slept in my wet clothes and it got really cold that night.”

“What’s your name?”

He didn’t say anything.

Uh-oh, I thought, he’s back in his shell.

I waited a little before asking, “Why won’t you tell me?”

Silence. I waited.

At last he spoke so quietly I had to lean in to hear him.

“Someone left a newspaper on the bench a few days ago, and I read that there’s a big reward for the person who finds me.”

“So?” I prodded.

“So you’ll go to the cops to collect the reward.”

“No I won’t,” I said. “I care more about people than money.” We were silent for a bit while I washed his face. Then I asked, “Why did you run away?”

“Because of my dad.”

“Why?”

The boy sighed and said, “When I was about five, my dad made me suck his dick.”

“Shit! Was he still doing that?”

“Worse.”

“What? You can tell me. I won’t say anything.”

“One day when I was twelve, he threw me face down on my bed, pulled down my pants, and rammed his dick up my rear. God, it hurt!”

“Ouch,” I said sympathetically. “Did he keep doing that?”

“He came to my bedroom nearly every night and did it.”

“Is that what you’re running away from?”

He nodded.

“One night, after he’d done me and I thought he was asleep, I walked out of the house and I haven’t gone back.”

“What about your mother? Does she know what he was doing?”

“I’ve no idea.”

By then I had washed his chest, his arms, and his legs. The only area left was his privates. “Move your hands,” I said.

“No.”

“You have to move your hands so I can wash down there.”

He blushed bright red and moved his hands. He had a boner poking up out of the water. Since I had one too, I didn’t think much of it.

“See?” he asked. “My dad made me dirty.” There were tears in his eyes.

“Look,” I replied, “your dad may have done some terrible things, but he didn’t make you pop boners. You and I, we’re both boys, we both have cocks, and we get boners which we can’t control, just like all boys our age. Now relax while I wash you.”

After I washed him, I began shampooing his hair, which was jet black and curly. It was on the long side and badly tangled, so it took me some time to get it unsnarled and clean.

When I finished, I helped him out of the tub and dried him off. I’d learned the joys of sleeping naked, but I figured he’d never do that. I took him to my bedroom and helped him sit before I handed him a pair of PJs. I told him I was going down to the kitchen to get him something to eat. “When you finish dressing, just sit on the bed until I come back, or if you find you need help, just wait.”

I crept down to the kitchen, took a container of soup out of the fridge and poured its contents into a bowl. I put the bowl into the microwave and turned it on. While the soup was heating, I got some soda crackers, a spoon, and a glass of orange juice and placed them on a plate. I found a tray and, putting the warm bowl and the plate of crackers on it, I went back up the rear stairs.

I found him sitting on the bed with the PJs on. Taking him into my second room, which I called my ‘office’, I put the tray on my desk and told him to eat.

“What is it?” he asked, looking at the bowl.

“Just some homemade chicken soup,” I replied. “It’s what Maisy gives me when my stomach’s upset.”

“Who’s Maisy?”

As he ate I told him about her and said that she, Dad, and I were the only people living in the house.

“Where’s your mom?”

“She died of lung cancer when I was little. I barely remember her.”

“Did she smoke?”

“Like a house afire, and she began when she was only fourteen. Now,” I continued, “you need to tell me your name, at least your first name. I can’t just keep calling you ‘you.’ And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Honest?”

“Honest.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Reluctantly he said, “My name’s Hunter.”

A lightbulb went on in my brain. “Hunter West,” I said in awe.

He nodded. “You won’t tell anyone will you?”

“No. I promised, and I won’t.”

“The news reports don’t say anything about you running away or what your father was doing to you. People seem to think you were kidnapped.”

“They wouldn’t say anything about my father doing me. He sees himself as a big shot wheeler-dealer, and he parades me around like a trophy son. He’s afraid my disappearance will reflect badly on him. He doesn’t give a damn about me. He’s a shit!”

That was the most I’d gotten him to say, and he was much more spirited when he said it. I grew hopeful that he was emerging from his shell.

“Okay,” I said. “Nobody will hear a word from me.” After Hunter finished eating, I gave him two aspirin and a glass of water. He swallowed the pills and I said, “Now we need to get you into bed.”

I helped him stand and took him to my bedroom.

“You haven’t told me your name,” he said as we went.

“I’m Philip Constable,” I told him.

There was a double bed in my bedroom. We might be a little crowded, I thought, but we could manage. I folded the blanket and top sheet back on one side and gestured for him to get in.

“Where are you gonna sleep?” he asked.

“There’s room enough for us both,” I said.

“Oh.” He looked doubtful. “I’ve never slept with anybody else.”

“Don’t worry,” I assured him, “I won’t do anything to upset you.”

Walking to the other side of my bed, I set my alarm for 6:00, turned off my bedside lamp, and climbed in. His body was warm against mine, and I couldn’t help thinking of the possibilities while my dick grew hard.

Sighing, I said, “Goodnight, Hunter.”

“Good night, Philip.”

Soon, we were both asleep.

++++++++

The alarm woke me. Rolling over, I saw that Hunter was awake but looking confused. I watched the awareness slowly grow in his face as he remembered where he was.

I rose quickly and got dressed. I put some clean clothes out for him, telling him I’d wash his others. Then I said I’d be back in a little while and went down to breakfast.

“Good morning, early bird,” said Maisy.

“Good morning,” I said as I poured myself a glass of orange juice. I sat at the kitchen table while she fixed me a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs.

I tried to eat slowly. I knew if I wolfed my food down, she’d think something was up.

Dad came into the kitchen. “Good morning,” he said as poured himself a cup of coffee.

“What are you up to today, Philip?” he asked.

“Don’t know yet. Maybe I’ll go to the park for a while and look for a pickup soccer or basketball game.”

Dad just nodded as he ate. I could see he was already in ‘office’ mode, thinking about his day. He was a top-rank lawyer, and he was often preoccupied with his work.

It was Wednesday, so Maisy left after she’d served Dad. I told her I’d take care of the dishes.

When I was alone, I took out a bowl, a small pitcher, a spoon, a glass, and a plate. I poured some dry cereal into the bowl, some milk into the pitcher, and some orange juice into the glass. Then I made two slices of toast, buttered them, and put them on the plate. I put everything on a tray and headed for the stairs.

Back in my bedroom, I took Hunter’s temperature, which was up just about a degree at 99.8. I suggested that he wash up and brush his teeth while I put his breakfast on my desk.

“I don’t have a toothbrush,” Hunter said.

How stupid can I be? I wondered. Of course he doesn’t. I found an extra, unused brush and a tube of toothpaste. He took them into the bathroom before I set up his breakfast on the desk.

While Hunter ate, I watched him. Now that he was cleaned up, I saw that he was strikingly good looking. I loved his curly black hair. His lips formed a little bow that turned up a bit. Even his ears were cute, not too far out from his head and just the right size.

I tried to get him to talk more about himself. He said he was feeling better. When I asked him how old he was, he said, “Thirteen,” which was the same as me.

“What are we gonna do all day?” he asked. I told him I had some video games we could play. “Do you have any books?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said. “What kind of books do you like?”

“Mostly adventure fiction,” he replied.

I named some that I had, and he asked for White Fang, so I got it while he was finishing his breakfast.

We spent a quiet day together, reading and chatting. While we read, I washed his dirty clothes.

At one point he asked, “How long do you think we can get away with this without someone figuring out I’m here?”

“I don’t honestly know. It’s been pretty easy today because Maisy’s not here. Meals will be more complicated on the days when she’s around.”

On Wednesdays, Maisy usually left a casserole for me and Dad so we could just heat it up.

Over supper, Dad asked how the park was. I made up an answer which seemed to satisfy him. I asked him about work, but he didn’t say a lot except that he was in the middle of a complicated case.

When we finished eating, I said I’d take care of the dishes. He went into his office to do some more work, leaving me alone as I fixed supper for Hunter. Since he was better, I opted for a small portion of the left-over casserole.

Back in my office, Hunter inhaled the aroma from his supper and exclaimed, “Oh, God, that smells good!”

“Go slowly,” I reminded him. He nodded and ate, making himself slow down by putting his fork down on his plate between mouthfuls.

When it was time for bed, we put on our PJs and climbed in. This time he turned, facing me, and said, “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said the other day concerning boners. You don’t think they’re dirty?”

“No, I don’t, and I don’t think sex is dirty. I think when it’s between two people who care about each other it probably can be wonderful, although I can’t be sure because I’ve never tried it.” I could feel a boner rising in my PJs and I wondered if he was getting one too.

“But shouldn’t people wait until they’re married to have sex? That’s what my mother always told me.”

I wanted to say, ‘Clearly your father didn’t think so,’ but I only said, “No, I think the deciding factor should be whether they care about each other, not whether they’re married. Of course, if they’re married but not to each other, I’m sure sex should be out.”

I could see him thinking about that before he asked, “What about two boys or two girls having sex together?”

“Well, maybe you know that used to be very much frowned upon, but times have changed. Have you heard of the Gay Pride movement?”

“Sure. Who hasn’t?”

“So now gay boys or men as well as girls and women are protected by the law.”

He thought some more. “I don’t know,” he said. “I think what my father did to me was dirty and bad.”

“You’re right,” I said. “It was both. Nobody should be forced to have sex when they don’t want it. We have laws against that and against adults having sex with their children, but that’s all very different from what I was talking about.”

He sighed. “I guess I have some more thinking to do. Before I met you, I thought all sex was dirty and bad and only for making babies, but now I’m not so sure.”

Then he rolled over and said, “Good night.”

“Good night,” I answered. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

++++++++

In the following days, although I had some problems making meals for Hunter, I managed to succeed in keeping his presence secret. Maisy remarked to Dad one morning at breakfast, “I don’t know where the food is going to. Philip seems to be eating almost enough for two now.”

“Maybe he’s pregnant,” Dad offered.

She laughed and I giggled.

But seriously,” he continued, “we have to expect that. He’s a teen and a growing boy.”

“I know,” she answered, “but I think I’m going to need more money for food.”

“Sure,” he said. “Just tell me what you need.”

So the food budget went up and nobody suspected a thing.

I did, however, worry about Hunter being cooped up in my rooms all the time. I thought he needed to get exercise, so I suggested that since he was feeling better and his fever was gone, we should go for walks at night. It took a little persuading, but he eventually agreed and nightly excursions became a part of our routine.

Although he wore his hoodie to hide his face, Hunter seemed to be completely out of his shell. We chatted and joked as we walked, often bursting into laughter. During the days, however, he often became silent and somber.

I began to worry about school, which would be starting soon. How could Hunter get his schooling without going? I supposed I could teach him what I was learning, but I didn’t know if that would be enough. Besides, the law said that he had to go to school.

When I mentioned that to him, he said, “The law also says that I have to go home, but that’s not gonna happen. And it says my dad shouldn’t fuck me, but he didn’t care about the law. All he cared about was getting his jollies.”

We talked for a while but we didn’t really settle anything.

Just before school began in the fall, Dad and I were having our casserole supper on a Wednesday night when we clearly heard the toilet flush upstairs. We both froze.

“Is somebody up there?” Dad asked.

I thought about lying and saying it was just a friend from school, but I didn’t like to lie to him, and I was afraid he’d go up to investigate.

Quietly, I answered, “Yes, sir.”

“Who is it?”

What was the best thing to do? I was sure that if I didn’t bring Hunter down then Dad would go up. At last I said, “I’ll see if I can bring him down.”

Racing up the stairs, I found Hunter in my bedroom.

“I screwed up, didn’t I?” he asked.

“I’m afraid so. I think the best thing would be for you to go down and meet my father.”

“I can’t.” I could see him retreating into his shell.

“If you don’t, I’m sure he’ll come up here. It would be better if you went down.”

He sighed and said, “Okay.”

“Besides,” I said as we went down the stairs, “Dad’s a lawyer and he may be able to help you. If he knows what your father did, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t let you be forced to go back home.”

When we walked into the kitchen, I said, “Dad, this is Hunter West.”

Dad looked very surprised for a moment before saying, “Maybe we should all sit down.” He got a plate for Hunter and put some casserole on it. I don’t know what Hunter thought, but I knew Dad wasn’t mad. I could see the wheels in his legal mind spinning furiously.

“I suppose you know that you’ve been all over the news,” Dad said when we were seated.

Hunter nodded.

“Most people think you were kidnapped. Were you?”

Hunter shook his head.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Again, Hunter shook his head.

“Can you talk?”

I interrupted. “Dad, Hunter can talk, but when he’s scared, he gets like this.”

Dad looked at me and asked, “How long has Hunter been up in your rooms?”

“Three weeks,” I replied.

“Three weeks! Don’t you know his parents are worried about him? Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Hunter asked me not to, but he has a reason.”

“What’s the reason, Hunter?” Dad asked.

Hunter didn’t say anything.

“Dad, his father’s been abusing him, sexually abusing him.”

Dad was silent. I could see the legal wheels turning in his head. He put some casserole on a plate for Hunter and then went into his office, returning with a pad of paper and his phone.

When he was seated again, he said, “Hunter, I can help you. I can get you the protection you need, but I can’t do anything if you won’t talk to me.”

A tear ran down Hunter’s cheek. Then he began to talk. Haltingly at first, but more rapidly as he went on. He told Dad about what happened when he was five and again what happened when he was twelve. He spoke in much more detail than he had with me, and frankly, I was grossed out. To think that a father would do that to his own son!

While Hunter was talking, Dad began taking notes.

When Hunter finished, Dad thought for a bit before saying, “Legally, I’m supposed to call the police and I can get in a lot of trouble if I don’t. But I’m not going to, at least not yet. I’ll try to come up with a plan.”

Hunter breathed a sigh of relief.

“Meanwhile, stay out of sight, because if anyone finds out that you’re here, we could have a big problem.”

Hunter agreed and after we finished eating, the two of us went back upstairs.

As we talked a little more before we got ready for bed, Hunter said, “Your father’s really kind.”

I agreed.

++++++++

I had decided that because of Maisy, I needed to continue the same meal routine, sneaking food up to Hunter. After all, if she knew about Hunter being with us, she too could get into trouble.

The following two days were rather boring. We didn’t go walking as Dad thought it wasn’t safe. We stayed in my rooms, reading and occasionally playing video games, even though Hunter didn’t like them very much.

On the evening of the third day, Dad came up to my rooms.

“Hunter,” he said. “I think I have a plan. However, it’ll mean that I’ll have to talk with the police, and you probably will also.”

“I can’t do that,” Hunter said.

“If you want to end this, at some point you’ll have to.”

Saying, “Think about it,” Dad left us alone to talk and think.

Hunter was very restless in bed that night. I took him in my arms and tried to comfort him. That, of course, made me hard and probably him as well.

As we lay in each other’s arms, I thought about kissing him, just to comfort him. I’d never kissed anyone my own age, boy or girl. I wondered how he would react. I wasn’t sure, but I thought maybe a kiss would calm him down. Slowly, I leaned over, turned his face to mine, and kissed him gently on the mouth. His response surprised me. He pulled my head towards him, and the kiss grew more passionate. Finally, he let go, and I fell back on the bed.

I was the hardest I’d ever been in my life, but I didn’t tell him that.

He whispered, “I really liked that. Thank you, Philip.”

“So did I. Good night, Hunter,” I whispered back.

I heard him sigh and soon I could tell by his breathing that he was asleep.

In the morning, Dad came up to my rooms and Hunter asked him to tell us about the plan.

“Well, first of all, you don’t know that when you were telling me about your father the other day, I was recording the whole conversation.”

“Really?” Hunter asked. “Oh no.”

“Perhaps that’s a good thing, because it could mean that you don’t have to tell the whole story over again. Anyway, I’ll go to the police and play the recording for them. In all probability they’ll arrest your father. However, if he denies doing what he did, we have no real, physical evidence. It’s too late, for example, to get DNA evidence from you. You may have some damage in your rear but there’s no proof it was done by your father. It would be your word against his.”

“So how does that help us?” I asked.

“If I can get your father and the DA to agree to a plea deal, I think I can get custody of Hunter.”

“If you can’t?” Hunter asked.

“Then we’d probably have to go to trial, but I’m trying to avoid putting you through that.”

“Can I think about it?”

“Certainly you can, Hunter. Why don’t you two boys talk about it today and I’ll check in with you when I get home. But remember this, I’m a lawyer, and that means I have to report the abuse. That’s the law. It’s just a question of how.”

Hunter and I talked about Dad’s plan during the day. He really didn’t want to do it, but we finally agreed that there was probably no other way.

When Dad got home in the afternoon, he came up to my rooms and Hunter told him what we had decided.

Dad looked at me and asked, “Philip, do you have any money?”

“A little,” I answered.

“Can you give five dollars to Hunter? Tell him it’s a gift.”

I pulled out five one-dollar bills from my pocket and handed them to Hunter, saying what Dad had said.

“Now, Hunter,” Dad said, “give me a dollar.”

Puzzled, Hunter handed him a dollar.

“Good. Now you have retained me as your lawyer and paid me, so anything you say as we go through this process is confidential.”

Hunter nodded.

Dad went on, “I’m going to the police tomorrow morning to play the recording. I’ve made copies, so I can give them one and they can use it as they see fit.”

With that, he left the room.

++++++++

All through the day, both Hunter and I were very nervous wondering what would happen. Would Dad’s plan work or would we all be in a lot of trouble?

Dad arrived home just before 5:00 and came up to my rooms.

As we looked at him anxiously, he said, “So far so good. The police, of course, asked how I had gotten the recording, but I told them I was Hunter’s lawyer and couldn’t divulge that. Then they got a warrant for Mr. West’s arrest. Now we have to wait and see what happens next.

“I don’t think I ever told you, Philip, that when I first graduated from law school, I worked as a public defender here. That means I know many people in the DA’s office and I know several of the judges. Since I’m now a partner in a law firm and practicing business law, I haven’t had contact with them for a while, but I think I can still play on those earlier connections.”

“Do you really think this will work?” I asked.

“We’ll give it our best shot and then go on from there. If worse comes to worst, I can send a copy of the tape to the newspapers, but I’m trying not to involve or embarrass Hunter any more than I have to.”

“Thank you, sir,” Hunter said quietly.

In the morning newspaper, there was a small article saying that Mr. West had been arrested, but the paper had no details about the charges.

When Dad returned home in the afternoon, he said he had received a call from an Assistant DA whom he knew, asking if they could talk. “I agreed to talk with him tomorrow and to bring Hunter.”

“Can I go too?” I asked.

“You can certainly ride along. I don’t know if the DA will let you into the conference or not, so you might bring a book along to read while you wait.”

Since Maisy still didn’t know about Hunter’s living with us, I had to smuggle him downstairs and into Dad’s car in the morning. Hunter was back in turtle mode, with his hoodie pulled forward as far as it would go and saying nothing. I sat in the back seat with him and held his hand.

In the city we went into the DA’s office, where Dad met Mr. Hemphill, the Assistant DA who was assigned to the case. Mr. Hemphill said that, since privileged information would be discussed, I couldn’t go into the conference, so I sat outside trying to read.

I stared at the book and read the first paragraph four times without knowing what it said. Giving up, I closed the book and idly paged through some magazines in the waiting room.

After an hour of waiting, Dad and Hunter came out of the office, with Hunter giving me a thumbs up.

In the car, he said, “Mr. Hemphill called Father’s lawyer, who said he would try to get my father to agree to the plea deal. It would mean he wouldn’t go to jail, but in return he’d sign over custody of me to your dad.”

“Perfect,” I said.

From the front seat, Dad said, “Because of your age, Hunter, it would be difficult for Social Services to find a fostering placement for you, so if they didn’t agree to my fostering you, they’d probably have to put you in a group home.”

“I’d run away again,” Hunter declared.

“Let’s just see what happens before we think about that, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Hunter murmured.

That night, as Hunter and I lay in my bed in our pajamas, he asked, “What have I done to deserve you and your dad?”

“What you deserve is to get away from your father,” I said.

“Yeah.”

I began kissing him on the mouth and he returned the kiss. In a few moments, I unbuttoned his PJ shirt and removed it. Stroking his chest, I pulled back from the kiss for a moment and said, “Take off your pants.”

Eagerly, I removed my PJs while he took off his pants. Lying back down, I took him in my arms again and kissed him as we moved our hands slowly over each other’s chests and backs. As we grew increasingly passionate, we worked our hands down to each other’s crotches.

Breaking the kiss, I moved down, tonguing and licking him around his privates. He moaned as he grew harder and harder, and I worried that he’d cum in my face. I moved my face back a little and began slowly masturbating him. It didn’t take long before he climaxed, shooting cum all over his stomach.

When I finished, Hunter did the same for me. As I climaxed, I groaned and cried out, cum shooting from my cock.

Taking an old sock, I cleaned us both off, and we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Sometime in the middle of the night, I awoke, leaned over, and kissed Hunter. He opened his eyes and looked up at me, smiling. This time, we lay so that we could bring each other off at the same time. Neither of us shot quite so much that time but doing that together was so sexy it took us a while to calm down afterwards and get back to sleep.

The alarm woke us in the morning at what seemed like an ungodly hour.

After we dressed, Dad came up and told us that Mr. West had agreed to surrender Hunter to us in return for a deferred sentence. He would also have to be put on the Sex Offenders list.

“What does deferred mean?” I asked.

“It means that he won’t go to jail unless he does something else illegal.”

We were all elated.

We went down to breakfast, where Maisy looked at Hunter and asked, “Do I know you?”

“No, ma’am. I’m Hunter West, and from now on I’m going to live here.”

As we ate, Dad explained to the surprised Maisy some of what had happened and that it was true Hunter would be living with us.

Grinning, Dad said to her, “I suppose now you’ll have another mouth to feed so you’ll want a raise.”

“I guess I’ve been feeding him all along,” she said.

We all laughed.

In the evening, a woman from Social Services visited. She met with all of us, including Maisy. She examined the house, including a free bedroom which Dad said could be Hunter’s. We were a little surprised by that but didn’t say anything.

When she left, saying that she didn’t think there would be any problems, I asked about the bedroom.

“Well,” he said, “I thought she might not be happy with the two of you sleeping in Philip’s bed, so I showed her the other bedroom.”

He asked Hunter about living in the spare room, but Hunter said the arrangements were fine the way they were, although he might do his homework in that room. Dad looked at him for a moment and then at me. Then he smiled and said, “Whatever you want. Where Hunter actually sleeps is up to you two. I want you to know, Hunter, that you are now a full member of our family.”

Two days later, we had to go to family court to have the custody agreement confirmed, but Mr. West was not there. The judge asked Dad and Hunter and the social worker a few questions and then approved the custody.

Later, when we entered our bedroom, Hunter grabbed me and we hugged and hugged. He moved his face to mine and began to kiss me. I started to grow hard, and I could feel that he was too.

Still kissing and hugging me, he pushed me over to the bed until I fell on it.

“Wait,” I said. I got up and removed my clothes; Hunter quickly followed.

Back on the bed, we resumed our hugging and kissing before I reached down and took his hard cock in my hand. He groaned for a moment before he took hold of mine. We slowly masturbated each other and in very short order we erupted.

Lying back, totally satisfied, we didn’t speak for several minutes. Then Hunter turned towards me and began running his fingers gently up and down my chest. When he hit a nipple, I moaned, so he did it again and then tweaked the other one.

Soon, we were both hard again. It took a little longer for us to cum again, but that was fine with us. It just meant we enjoyed the sensations longer.

From that time on, whenever possible, Hunter and I explored each other, finding what pleased us and learning how to touch, how to kiss, and how to prolong our feelings.

Finally, one night after we had made love twice, Hunter said, “Just think, if you had left me to die in the park, we’d never have had this.”

I grinned. “That’s why I brought you home.”

“Sure,” he said, and we both giggled happily.

“And Hunter?”

“Yeah?”

“I love the fact you don’t have to hide in your hoodie any longer.”