Chapter 1

Back when I was growing up in Hazelhurst, Mississippi, you could have asked just about anyone and they'd have told ya that it weren't likely I'd ever amount to a hill o' beans. That's mostly ‘cause I wasn't like most of the other boys in town (and the ones that were like me were better at hidin' it!). All except for Aunt Lula, that is. Aunt Lula, she believed in me from day one and she told me that all the time. Now not many folks would have agreed with Aunt Lula on principle - see she was one of the feistier-type of southern belles. You know the sort. She could have given old Scarlet O'Hara a good run for her money. Aunt Lula had been known to smoke a cigar of an evening, she could drink most of the men in the county under the table and she had even been known to swear a blue streak or two - provided Pastor Remus weren't nowhere nearby. But, I loved Aunt Lula cause she understood me.

In fact, there was this one time - I'd just escaped from the two biggest, homophobic bullies in town, my cousins, Beau & Forrest - and Aunt Lula had found me hiding behind the hydrangeas in the side yard. Well, Aunt Lula gathered me up into her lap on the big rocking chair up on the porch. And, she told me something I would never forget. She said, "Honey chi'l, I'm fixing to get ready to tell you sometin' important here. You Listenin'? Now, Baby, don't you let nobody tell you that you ain't special. I just know, Baby, that someday you gonna do sometin' magical." I always will remember that day and I right away set my sights on someday doing something magical that would make my Aunt Lula proud.

Now, I reckon' that Aunt Lula, when she said I'd do something 'magical' had probably meant that she thought I would maybe get rich or become a movie star or some such like that. Little did she know how prophetic her prediction would turn out to be, though - ‘cause, you see, she was right. I did end up doing something magical - I became a true Fairy Godmother (or Godfather, or maybe Godperson, whatever's more P.C.?). I even granted some fantastic wishes and reunited a King with his Prince, all by my little ol' self. It's a true love story in every sense: It's a story about love, It's a story about 'True Love' and it's a 'true' story (cause you know that all my stories are true and if they aren't they should be). So, y'all just get comfy and I'll tell y'all about how I made this magical love come true.

******************

Once upon a time, in a quaint little village, not so very far away, otherwise known as Pittsburgh, there was a beautiful but very sad young man named Justin Taylor. Now, Justin was so beautiful that the Sun would fail to shine on days that he didn't smile, the ocean would be a little less blue if he blinked his eyes, and the snow on the tops of the highest mountains was ashamed that it wasn't as pale and perfect as Justin's skin. He was very sad though because his lovely, caring and understanding mother, Jennifer Taylor, had recently died and he missed her greatly. His mother had been the only one who had understood him and had been willing to accept him for who he really was - beautiful, delicate, sensitive, artistic, and, oh yeah, gay!

After her death, Justin was left with only his weak, selfish and homophobic prick of a father, Craig Taylor. Poor Justin was so despondent at his mother's death that he withdrew into himself and just completely let himself go - I mean, really let himself go. He so needed a haircut, he refused to wear his contacts and instead wore these god-awful, ugly, big horn-rimmed glasses that totally hid his gorgeous blue eyes, and to top it off, he started wearing these horrible baggy cargo pants and big plaid shirts that completely hid his perky little bubble butt, impressive basket and all other parts of his adorable twinkie body. Poor boy was a walking fashion disaster!

Anyways, poor Justin, sunk in his 'Pit of Despair', wallowed around for a few months/years/whatever. Joyless Justin just sat in his room and doodled in his sketch book and moped. What a complete waste of such a beauty! Then, one day, his ogre of a father came home and announced to the boy that he'd decided to remarry.

You see, the Taylor family's finances hadn't been the same since Jennifer Taylor's demise. Jennifer had come from real money - the kind that was so old it was moldy. Cash-poor Craig had been relying on that moldy money to prop up his floundering business, Taylor Appliances and Electronics, for years. But, when Jennifer died, all her money had gone into a trust for Justin and the trust was managed by an honest, incredibly loyal, and slightly hot young accountant, Ted Schmidt (everybody calls him "Teddy" though, cause he's such a sweet, cuddly teddy bear of a guy). Luckily for the hero of our story (I mean Justin, not ME, silly), Teddy had always distrusted Creepy Craig and therefore he wouldn't release any of the trust money to the Dastardly Dad. So, the beautiful man-child's money was safe, at least until he turned twenty-one and could inherit in his own right.

Well, Cretin Craig, since he couldn't get his hands on Justin's bucks (at least not for the time being), went back to Plan 'A', and decided to marry some more money. Thanks to the miracle of on-line dating, Calculating Craig had found the perfect second wife - she was wealthy, recently divorced, desperately lonely, slightly overweight and had definite self esteem issues. Easy pickin's he thought to himself. This 'catch' (who, by the way, went by the name of Cruella DeVille - Just Kidding! - she was really named Brenda Breeder - Just Kidding Again! - it was just plain old Brenda Nellah), unfortunately came with two parasites-in-tow, namely her twin sons, Ethan and Ian. Craig was willing to overlook these two less-than-welcome additions to the mix, as long as the mix was still overwhelmingly green - as in cold, hard, cash-colored green. Brenda, on the other hand, simply adored her two sons and, as a result, had spoiled them so badly that they stunk worse than last week's cabbage stew. Not only were they spoiled, but they were both, scrawny, greasy and whiny and nobody liked them except for their mother.

Our lovely, lonely, young lad was briefly pulled out of his funky funk at the news of Craig's pending nuptials. He looked forward to maybe making friends with his new step-brothers. He also missed his mother and desperately hoped that perhaps Brenda would care for him and love him as much as his dearly departed mother had. Silly, sweet little Justin was just too innocent and trusting, wasn't he? Apparently, he also wasn't acquainted with the 'Evil Step-parent Theorem', which maintains that any time you have a beautiful, lonely orphan, any replacement parental units must, of necessity, be evil, mean and downright dastardly. Needless to say, our poor baby was wrong, wrong, wrong - about both his soon-to-be-mom and his soon-to-take-over-his-room-step-siblings.

The only good thing to come out of this whole sordid scenario, at least as far as our sweetie is concerned, was ME! Yay! ‘Cause that's how I came into the story - Brenda the Breeder hired ‘Perfect Parties by Auntie Em' to do her wedding, can you believe it? And, the first thing I did when I arrived at the Taylor residence, after helping the bride-to-be pick a theme and color-scheme for the affair, that is, was to befriend the gorgeous, blond, young man I found hiding out in the kitchen.

And really, any ulterior motives that I might or might not have had with regard to the stunning little stud I'd found in that kitchen really aren't relevant to the story, so just pick your mind up out of that gutter and let me continue my story.

Chapter 2

"Hey gorgeous! What's a radiant ray of sunshine doing in a horrendous hidey-hole like this," I asked (one of my better pick-up lines, I thought) as soon as I entered the kitchen of the Taylor residence and saw the boy sitting alone on a bench in the corner, studiously working on something in a large sketch book. The sullen sight in front of me raised his sorry face and I could see the tracks of the tears that had been washing down that beautiful face. As soon as I saw that tear-stained mug, my heart just went out to the poor thing.

"Oh, Baby, what's got you so down, now? Huh? Come on and tell your Auntie Em all about it," I offered in my best consoling voice as I scootched him over and plunked myself down next to him with my arm over his shoulder so as to be able to pat him in an appropriately comforting manner. The cutie gave me a small smile when he heard me call myself 'Auntie Em', which I thought was definitely progress - it was better than more tears at least, right?

"You don't look much like Aunt Em," was the reply from my blond beauty. "You look more like the scarecrow. Although you do dress kinda like one of the munchkins," he quipped with an almost-laugh (Ha, ha - like I haven't heard that one before).

"Now, now! I'm as big a fan of Judy Garland as the next fag, honey, but please don't compare me to a munchkin," I laughed back at him.

"My real name is Emmett, Emmett Honeycutt," I informed him. "But, since I'm here in my role as 'Party Planner Extraordinaire' you can call me Auntie Em. And, who, praytell, would you be, sweetie?"

"Justin," he said, back to his sad sounding self.

"Well, Justin, what could possibly be so bad that you're holed up here in the kitchen on such a lovely fall day, ruining that perfect puss with all those tears?"

"Let's see," he stared, "my Mom's dead. My Dad's an asshole who threatened to have me sent off to a church camp to be deprogrammed if I continued to maintain that I was gay or if I let on to my new step-family, or anyone else for that matter, that I harbor any such deviant ideas. The step-monster in question informed me this morning that I have to start earning my keep, so she's convinced my Dad to make me work at his store as a janitor's assistant after school and on weekends. And, if that wasn't enough, Ethan and Ian, my new step-beasts, have decided that my room, since it's bigger, should be theirs and that I should move into the basement. So, nothing's really the matter, I guess. I'm probably just being 'overly emotional', as Brenda put it."

"Ack! That sounds . . . Well, it pretty much sucks, I guess! Well then, since you obviously do have some legitimate issues there, I guess the only thing to do is to pull out a pint of chocolate ice cream and two spoons so I can join this 'pity-party' - I am a party planner, you know - so you can just leave everything up to me!"

And I immediately went right to work, raiding the freezer, locating spoons and generally taking matters into my capable hands with my usual flair. I must have been fabulous, as usual, since Justin's tears had dried up and turned to giggles by the time I finally had to get going about forty-five minutes later. So, I gave the boy a pat on his cheek (I couln't help myself - he really does have one of the most pat-able asses I've ever seen!), told him to take care of himself, and took myself off to meet Teddy and the rest of the gang at Woody's for a drink.

*************************

Justin and I became pretty good friends over the ensuing weeks as I spent a lot of time at the Taylor residence getting ready for the 'Big Day'. The more I got to know the boy, the more I really liked him. This beautiful blond boy was really an amazing artist. I used to sit with him down in his new dungeon digs (damn, that basement he'd been relegated to by his pseudo-siblings was disgusting - It was musty, damp and always smelled like cat urine, even though I was pretty sure the Taylors didn't own a pussy, other than the one Brenda brought with her), and we'd hang out and talk, whenever he wasn't otherwise busy, while Justin drew. His drawings were so detailed and precise. He could make anything he drew just about pop out of the paper. And imagination - Hoo whee! - we'd play this game where I'd name a celebrity and he'd draw them naked (only male celebrities, please. Who wants to draw a twat!). I was always amazed at how hung all those A-listers were - at least in 'Justinland'.

So, we'd talk, and it came out that Justin himself really hadn't - at least not to anyone other than his mom and best-friend, Daphne. He'd sort of tried to tell his Dad 'BB' ('Before Brenda'), but it had not gone well. Daddy Dearest was still in denial about the whole thing. And that turned out to be the extent of poor Jittery Justin's experience with the 'gay world'. He'd never been out to a gay club, had any gay friends or, god forbid, had any actual gay sex. He hadn't even had a god-damned gay kiss.

Well, as soon as I heard that, I decided that I would have to take this boy under my wing and introduce him to all the glorious joys of gay PA (well, maybe not ALL the joys - Justin and I are JUST friends, after all). My first objective, was simply to get the sweet, shy young thing out of this boring basement. Justin was justifiably jumpy about taking that first step - who wouldn't be with Cranky Craig as a father. But, I kept at the lad.

"Come on," I told the boy. "I don't care how tight you and 'Rosy Palm' are, you can't spend your entire life hiding down here with only a stack of trashy photo mags and your randy right fist to keep you company. You've got to live a little, see the wonderful wide-world of queerdom and get out of this house, out of the closet and out of those cruddy clothes!"

It took a lot of convincing, you better believe it, but eventually I talked "shy-guy" into a short exploratory trip down to Liberty Avenue, the Gay Mecca of the Pitts, so he could at least see the sights. The problem was coming up with a plan - Cantankerous Craig kept our boy on a pretty short leash, you see. Justin worked every day after school at his father's store until six or seven in the evening. Then, when our jaunty little janitor boy got home, Big-bad Brenda would have a whole list of household chores for him to take care of. And, if he still had time after all that, the bully-boys, Ethan and Ian, would often corner Justin and force him to ‘help' them with their homework. Unfortunately, their idea of help usually meant Justin doing the work himself in exchange for them not punching, pinching or pushing our poor pal.

The only time Just had off was on Sunday's. That's because Craig & Brenda were such good, god-fearing, morally upstanding child-abusers that they still held to the biblical prohibition against working their slave on the Sabbath. But, even then, Justin wouldn't be allowed to just take off on his own. Hence, the need for a cunning plan.

"Justin, I have a cunning plan," I finally told him a couple of weeks after we'd started talking about our daring adventure. "Next Sunday, I could call here and ask your soon-to-be-step-monster to send you over to my shop to pick something up."

"Wait," Justin interrupted. "How about, instead, we arrange with Brenda that next Sunday you need me to pick up something for her at your shop. Then, I'll have an excuse to get away from here and a reason to head to Liberty Avenue, and you can show me all your wicked ways that afternoon!"

"Brilliant plan, Boss," I agreed with him (well, it was - even if it was MY idea first). And, that was how Justin's Big Adventure began.

Chapter 3

Sunday came and I rubbed my hands together with an evil gleam in my eye as I placed the all-important phone call to the breeder-bride.

"Brenda, Darling," I began in my most saccharine-sweet voice. "You're going to be sooooo excited. I've got the final menu plan done for your reception. It's FABULOUS, if I do say so myself - and I DO! There's only one teensy problem, sweetie. I'm too swamped to run it over to you this afternoon. Do you think you could send over one of your darling boys to pick it up?"

"Oh, Emmett! That's wonderful. I can't wait to see what you have planned. But, Ethan has a violin recital this afternoon and the whole family is planning to attend. So, I don't think we'll be able to get it from you until maybe tomorrow," was Brenda's response.

Damn! ‘Justin didn't tell me anything about a recital,' I thought. I guessed that we'd just have to try again the next Sunday. "Oh well. Don't bother, then. I'll just get it to you later in the week," I said, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice. Then I started to say my good-byes, when the ‘princess-WIDE' interrupted me.

"Wait. I forgot about Craig's brat, Justin. He's not coming with the rest of us to the recital, of course. He can come pick up the menu plan from you. If that's okay? I mean, he's not the brightest bulb in the box, but I suppose he could manage to find his way to your shop," Biased-Brenda offered.

"That would be just fine, Darling. Ta ta!" I rang off before the witch could hear the cunning cackles welling up from my throat. She'd played right into our plans. . . .

****************************

About twenty minutes later, I heard the tinkle of the bell over the shop door and looked up from my laptop to see a baggy, bookish boy shyly sidling into the store.

Now, Justin is pretty much always beautiful. He has that blond hair that shines like spun gold, that flawless ivory skin (thanks in part to not being allowed out of the house and store very much), that taut twinkie torso and that gorgeous great-big grin. But sometimes the boy seemed determined to hide his light under a boy-sized bushel basket. Today, for instance, he was wearing a sweat-stained, ragged baseball cap (go Pirates!), baggy tan draw-string pants, a heather-grey tee shirt covered with paint smears and, to top it all off, those hideous glasses. On his back was a dirty green-plaid backpack with a broken zipper which left the top compartment drooping open and in his hands was the ubiquitous sketchpad.

Really! How on Earth could I be expected to walk down Liberty Avenue with that? It was simply out of the question. My fashion-diva rep would have been ruined. First thing, therefore, I grabbed the backpack from him and stashed it behind the counter, palmed my keys and hustled him out the back door. Luckily, my favorite fashion destination, ‘Torso', was only a block or so away and, if we were fortunate, we could make it by way of the alley without being spotted.

However, as luck would have it, we didn't have any - Luck, that is. We made it down the alley to the end of my block. Then, we had to cross over Tremont to get to the next alley-way, which was where Torso was located. How hard should it be to get a lousy block without being spotted by someone I knew? Apparently, it was going to be very hard - and not in a positive, life-affirming kind of way - this afternoon.

As soon as I poked my head around the corner to scan Tremont street to see if the coast was clear, up drives the very last person I would have wanted to see - Liberty Avenue's very own King of Kink, Brian Kinney. I tried a strategic retreat, but those perceptive hazel eyes had already latched onto my lovely lanky frame and weren't going to let go.

"Hey, Honeycutt! Hiding out in the alley? You do know it's still daylight, right. I mean, if you want to get your rocks off in the alley, I would recommend you wait till after dark. Even here on Liberty Avenue," came the expected put-down from the sarcastic sack of sh . . . . (okay, so he's actually a friend, and maybe I should cut back on the derogatory name calling).

"I'm not getting my rocks off!   And, don't call me ‘Honeycutt', Brian. I was just heading over to Torso for a quick fashion infusion, if you don't mind," I retorted as I tried to edge by him, all the time trailed by my shy shadow, Justin.

"I don't mind," Brian answered. "I happen to own a very nice, expensive pair of sunglasses, which protect my eyes. However, I do feel sorry for everyone else that has to look at your so-called 'outfits' without protective eyewear." He chortled to himself at what he perceived to be an excellent dis at my expense. I chose to ignore him (mostly because I couldn't think of any really decent comeback).

"Come on, Justin," I said as surreptitiously as I could to my charge while I lifted my chin high and started off again on my mission of fashion mercy.

"Who's your little stray?" Damn. Brian, of course, noticed the bashful blond behind me. Justin had mostly kept his head down during the previous discourse, but I detected the occasional sidelong glance in Brian's direction. Okay, admittedly the man is gorgeous, so any gay boy who didn't look in his direction would have had to have been blind. But, for Brian to deign to direct his own attention towards someone so beneath his normal range of consideration was practically unheard of - normally a boy like Justin wouldn't even register on his radar. ‘Hmmm,' I thought to myself, ‘what's up with that?"

"This is Justin. And, we were just leaving," I told him as I bustled the boy behind Brian and on our way before anyone else could see us together. Brian just stood there with his tongue in his cheek and smirked at my retreating back.

Well, after that little incident, the rest of the afternoon was much more enjoyable. I managed to get Justin into Torso and out of those clothes. He wanted to protest about my buying him clothes, but I wouldn't take no for an answer, and I wouldn't take HIM anywhere dressed like that. So Justin had to capitulate in the end. The boy wasn't ready for a full Auntie Em makeover, though, so I had to content myself with attiring him in a simple pair of tight black jeans and a marvelous mid-drift tee, one size too small (of course). We tossed the hat into the bag with his old clothes and I whipped out the emergency bottle of styling gel Torso keeps in the back room for its employees so I could quickly address the hat-head issues, and then we were off.

Watching Justin watch the denizens of Liberty Avenue for the first time was like setting a vegetarian kid free in a Hostess Cupcake factory and telling him that, just for today, everything was vegan and purely organic. I thought at one point, the poor baby's eyes were going to pop right out of his head.

"My, Justin. What big eyes you have," I commented, when Justin almost tripped on his own feet while ogling a gay couple feeling each other up on the street corner next to Torso.

"All the better to learn about gay culture, my dear," jested Just-downright-amazed Justin.

A block or so later, we passed a couple of Mister Sisters on the corner arguing over a sale rack outside a store well known for its sequin-studded attire. Both of the ladies in question (or should I say questionable ladies) had a death grip on what appeared to be a mauve mini-dress and were wrangling over who had seen it first. Now, when I say arguing, what I really meant was swearing up a storm, calling each other names and using language I wasn't sure was legal in the state of Pennsylvania. Justin seemed enthralled by the spectacle and just stood there soaking up the scene. It was like he was drinking in all that licentious language though his lovely ears.

"My, Justin. What big ears you have," I rebuked him. "Your uptown propriety isn't offended?"

"All the better to assimilate the local customs, my dear."

First on the agenda, I had thought I would take the lad over to the Liberty Diner to meet some of the local color, namely our lovely, local Diner lady, Debbie Novotny. Every gay boy on Liberty Avenue meets Debbie, most of them fairly early on in their campy career. Debbie was a surrogate mother to all of us and therefore a great place to start when introducing new blood to the neighborhood. Plus, she was always a good gauge as to how well a newbie would acclimate to the environment - if you couldn't stomach Debbie, you didn't stand a chance with the rest of Liberty Avenue.

Justin joined me in the Diner with his usual jazzed enthusiasm. As soon as the bewigged beldam saw us enter, she descended on us with her usual aplomb, ushered us towards a booth in the back and pulled out her order pad before we could even slide into the seats.

"How's it hanging, Em, honey," she addressed me with her casual cordiality. Then she tilted her head a bit to the left as if to peek under the table top and added, "looks to me like it's hanging a little to the left today! Hah!" Like I said, Debbie could be a little much to stomach, even for those of us who knew what to expect. Justin just sat there with his mouth open in utter bewilderment.

"My, Justin," I couldn't help but comment, "what a big mouth you have!"

Since Debbie was still standing there, cackling at her little jest and waiting to take our order, Justin didn't respond right away. He continued to stare with a dazed and glazed look on his puzzled puss. His expression just made Debbie laugh a little more. "I'll come back when your friend here has had a chance to stuff his eyeballs back in his face," said the wise waitress.

"All the better to . . . I don't know, but, WHAT a FREAK!" Justin finally spluttered as soon as the freaky, yet friendly, Debbie withdrew.

"Well, she does take some getting used to. . . " I started to defend the lady's honor. I was interrupted mid-sentence though by someone else joining our little twosome.

"But, once you get to know her, you can't help loving her," Michael asserted as he slid into the booth next to me. "Hi, I'm Michael. I take it this is your first visit to the Diner," my bosom buddy asked of my bemused boy.

"Yeah, it is. My name's Justin. Em here was just showing me around. I've never been to Liberty Avenue before. It's amazing!" enthused and excited Justin. "So, you know Debbie?"

"I guess you could say that, since she's my Mom. Although, even I sometimes wonder about her," Michael quibbled, regarding his mother with a look almost as bewildered as Justin's.

"So, what are you two up to," Michael began with the interrogation.

I therefore proceeded to tell him, complete with three-part harmony and large explanatory gestures, the entire saga of Justin and the evil step-family. Justin, meanwhile ordered a triple cheeseburger, large curly fries and chocolate milkshake with a slice of apple pie ala mode for dessert. That boy sure could put away the chow! And, before I was finished with my tale, Justin was finished with his meal and we all decided to head out together. Michael was enchanted with the idea of exposing the new lad to everything gay and wanted to add a hand to the endeavor.

We strolled up and down the avenue for a while, letting the lad look into the windows of shops and around at the local color. After about an hour, we came to one of my favorite shops on the street, Big Boyz Toyz, one of the best toy stores in town. It was obvious from the window display what wares this wonderful warehouse carried and I watched as Justin gaped at the items on exhibit. Some of those toys were rather provocative, I had to admit. I myself was rather curious about the "newly arrived" (or so the sign said) ‘Ravening Rippler' sitting on its stand in the center of the display - it was a glittery purple with a large bulbous head, at least eleven inches long and had these spiral ridges circling all the way along its length. It had definite possibilities, I thought.

When I finished perusing the proffered products, I glanced over to my protege to find him not-so-surreptitiously rubbing at the crotch of his brand new jeans as he looked longingly into the window. I noticed a noticeable bulge in the region of the boy's nether parts, indicating that he found the various toys equally provocative.

"My, Justin. What a big Cock you have," I couldn't help but comment when the size of that basket became so evident.

"All the better to . . ." Luckily for my sense of restraint, the boy wasn't able to complete that sentiment as he was interrupted by Michael at that point.

"Come on, boy wonder. I think it's time to get you home. Enough corrupting of the youth for the day, Em," Michael directed.

I thought I saw a moment of regret on young Taylor's face. Michael looked very determined though to save the innocent boy from being ‘over-exposed' on this, his first outing. Justin must have noticed the determination on Michael's face, because he didn't bother trying to argue.

"Okay," Justin said in an embarrassed voice. "I don't think I would have liked it in there anyway. Those toys look a bit . . . scary."

"It's not that scary," Michael back-peddled. "I mean, every gay boy deserves a toy or two. But I just think you've had enough for today."

"I'm sure you're right," added Justin, looking just like a scairt little rabbit about to be tossed into a briar patch. "I don't want to go into any place like that. Ever. I can take the rest of the stuff you've shown me today, Em, but whatever you do, don't take me in that store."

"Come on, Michael," I tried to cajole my friend into capitulating. "It's just a couple of dildos. I mean, the boy is gay. He's got to find out about this stuff eventually, right?"

"No, Em," Justin piped up. "I don't want to go in there. I think all those toys would probably give me nightmares or something. Please, Michael. Don't let Emmett take me into that thar toy store," the boy pled.

Well, by now, Michael was starting to change his tune a bit. It seemed silly for Justin, a red-blooded American gay boy, to be frightened of a mere dildo or two. In fact, it seemed like our responsibility, as gay mentors, to expose this frightened young thing to every facet of gay life, and nobody would deny how important a good dildo is in the life of every gay man.

"You know what, Justin? I think you're overreacting a bit. You shouldn't be scared by this stuff. It's all perfectly natural, really, to have these needs and this stuff . . ." Michael went on trying to instill the proper 'Out and Proud' attitude in the tyro. Justin still looked very hesitant though.

After trying to talk the boy into visiting the shop for several more minutes, only to be continuously met by Justin's protestations that he didn't care what we did to him just so long as we didn't drag him into that thar toy store, Michael finally lost his temper.

"This is ridiculous, Justin. Come on. You're going into that toy store, and I'm buying you your first dildo and I don't care how much you beg me not to," Michael demanded.

"Okay," Justin agreed with a sly smile on his sunshine face as he not-so-meekly followed the duped Michael into the store, proceeding directly to pick out a nice beginner's model for his private home use later that night and thanking Michael profusely for the gift after leaving the checkout stand. Michael seemed pleased as punch with himself for convincing the young, inexperienced boy to expand his horizons a little. I didn't want to undeceive my friend, so I said nothing but smiled at the manipulative little man-child as he joyfully showed me his new acquisition.

By this time, it was getting a little late. When Justin finally looked down at his watch, he yelped.

"Em - I've got to get home right away. It's almost 5:00 and my father will be home from the recital. If I'm not home when they get there, he'll turn my balls into pumpkins, for sure."

Justin was really afraid. Luckily, I had borrowed my latest beau's car that morning and so I speedily sped the sorry son back to his dreary dungeon, and nobody was the wiser about our little outing. At least for the time being.

Chapter 4

Justin was pleased with his first foray into fagdom. Together we’d expanded his wardrobe, expanded his toy collection and even expanded his range of experiences. I was pleased with how readily the boy had taken to the rarified atmosphere of the Avenue. We both eagerly began to make plans for additional adventures.

Michael had become an enthusiastic ally after Justin's original outing. This avid and ambitious advisor was still flushed with pride at how well his prior attempt to acclimate the beautiful blond bombshell into gay society had worked. He wanted to teach the timid teen more and so did I, so we spent a lot of time at the Diner over the next week discussing and planning our next devious designs.

While we both agreed that Justin had admittedly proven to be a quick learner, there was no sense in overwhelming the boy. After much debate, with Debbie pulled into the discussion to provide some motherly advice, it was decided that an evening at Woody's would probably be a satisfactory second step in the shy-boy's studies.

This plan proved slightly problematic, however. It had been one thing to get Justin out of purgatory for a Sunday afternoon stroll. It was going to take a little more effort, though, to get his release for an entire evening, especially on a Friday or Saturday, which was what Michael wanted. Perhaps we needed another perfect plan.

To everyone's relief, the optimal opportunity occurred soon afterwards. After much hemming and hawing, Beastly-Brenda had finally narrowed down her options for the rehearsal dinner to two restaurants: Casa des Temerarios or Chez des Gaffeurs*. I, therefore, arranged for the whole family, minus Justin of course, who they really didn't include as part of the family anyways, to try both restaurants one Saturday evening. First, they would have drinks, tapas and a light, early Spanish-style supper and then move on to a more complete dinner and dessert a la France. That should be enough for them to make a fully informed decision about their final choice.

By my calculations, the entire tour should take the Nellah-Taylor crew at least eight hours total and keep them occupied until well after midnight. To ensure they'd be kept busy by the solicitous serving staff, I sealed the deal with an expert blowjob for Miguel, the head waiter at the Casa, and a promise to the owner of the Chez that Michael would go on a date with him (he really wasn't MY type, you know, so I had to offer up my co-conspirator, and Michael kind of goes for those pushy older tops, right?). This way, we could get Justin a free pass from prison at least from 6:00 pm or so till after 12:00 am - plenty of time to see the sights at the local watering hole.

Our plan worked like a dream, too. Brenda and her spawn were busy from lunchtime on discussing what each would wear while Daddy Dreadful was laying low trying to stay out of their way. Justin was even able to escape a little early and managed to meet me at the shop around 5:30 pm. It's a good thing he was early, too, because once again his wardrobe was woefully wrong and wouldn't cut it at Woody's. Another trip to Torso was tactfully suggested and eventually the toy-boy was tastefully attired in some terrific togs. Then, we wandered over to Woody's in good time to meet up with my gang.

Young Taylor and I were ensconced in a booth at the bar, beers in hand, when the guys started trickling in. First to arrive was Michael and his new beau, Dr. Ben Bruckner (PhD, not MD, pul-leeze). Michael introduced his protege to the prof and they piled into the booth with us. About a half-hour later, Teddy and his latest twink toddled in and took up their seats as well.

Everyone was getting along great with my gorgeous guest and generally giving the boy good tips on how to survive the mean gay streets. As usual though, the conversation devolved from such philosophical heights down to the typical dross of gossip, rumor and downright character assassination. Why do all our conversations end up as rumor-mongering? Probably because gossip is the main currency of queens and we always need to keep stocking up on the latest scandals. Anyway, while we pointed and laughed and pried into other's lives, our wide-eyed wunderkind whiled away his time, hiding behind those beer-bottle lenses of his as well as behind the growing line of empty beer bottles themselves, and he drank it all in without a whisper.

Without a word, that is, until one Brian Kinney arrived. All eyes in the bar were, of course, drawn to the man as soon as he entered the room - pretty standard for the tall, sexy brunet. Justin was no exception to his spell.

"What about that guy, over at the pool tables," Justin pointed towards Kinney, interrupting our discussion over who was seen last night at "No-Towel Night" at the Liberty Baths.

"That's Brian. He's my best friend. He's a complete asshole, but he's also my best friend," was Michael's biased explanation.

"You just stay away from Brian Kinney, Sugar," I warned the lad. "He's way out of your league - he's out of just about everyone's league, I guess - but you definitely don't want to get hung up on the King of Liberty Avenue."

"Why do they call him "The King of Liberty Avenue?" Justin couldn't help asking. His eyes hadn't strayed from the striking silhouette of the sultry, sexy, stud since Brian had sauntered into the bar.

"Well," began Teddy, "it's probably because he's fucked more guys than anyone else in Pittsburgh, and done it in the most elegant fashion.  That's why everyone wants the man. Even if he is a bit of a jerk, most of the time."

"How does anybody know how many guys he's fucked," queried the kid.

"Well, it's not like Brian hides his escapades," I explained. "He's basically redefined the term ‘promiscuous'. Legend even has it that one night in the backroom of Babylon, he fucked more than 100 guys in under 8 hours. He would have been in the Guiness Book of World Records even, except they were running out of guys he hadn't yet fucked by around 2:00 am and so the Guiness representative volunteered to get in line and Brian fucked him so hard he passed out and therefore couldn't verify the end count."

One of the queens sitting at the table next to ours overheard this statement and leaned in to add his two cents. "You know that Brian Kinney has the most beautiful cock in the entire world, too. In fact, it's so gorgeous that most people can't even really remember how wonderful it is after they see it - it's beauty is just so strong that a mere human mind can't hold its image."

"It's true," his tablemate added, "Brian let me blow him one time at the Baths, but to this day, I still can't remember what his dick looked like. It was so amazing that I kinda passed out just from blowing him and all I can remember is this hazy image of this huge schlong, it was sooo thick and smooth, and . . . ." and the man's voice faded off into fond memories of HIS one night with the King.

"That's one of the reasons that Kinney has his one-fuck only rule, you know," added another passing fag who wanted in on the tale telling. "Back before he had the rule, he sometimes would stay with one guy or another for a while, but so many of them were dying of heart attacks, loss of fluids and sheer bliss, that eventually, when the body count was reaching the double digits, all the doctors at Allegheny General started a petition to ask Brian to only ever fuck a guy one time so that all the beautiful men wouldn't be dying - it was such a waste, really. Everyone signed the petition - even the governor, I heard - and Brian had to agree because he didn't want to use up all the most beautiful guys in the city."

A fourth participant, who didn't want to be left out, added, "and, you want to talk about kinky? Kinney is the King of Kink. I've heard that the orgies at the Baths are magnificent - it's not unheard of for Kinney to initiate a group of twenty to thirty guys at a time. And, he's pretty well known in the BDSM circles too. In fact, I've even heard that one time, on a dare, he agreed to fuck this huge black ox, named BABE, and he fucked that animal so hard for so long the ox turned blue from lack of oxygen. . ."

"HOLD ON A SECOND. THAT'S GOING A BIT TOO FAR!" yelled Michael, in an attempt to stick up for his friend. I mean, kink is one thing, but I don't think even Brian is into beastiality. ‘Where do these rumors get started,' I thought to myself.

As he listened to these stories, a jovial Justin just jiggled in the corner, a little hint of drool occasionally escaping his juicy lips. I could tell that the boy was not heeding our warnings about the 'King'. He was intrigued, to say the least. The sweet, shy, saucy little scamp was really not ready for the big-bad Brian, but, as my Aunt Lula would have said, his eyes were bigger than his dick, and so Justin just kept hankerin' after a hunk of that hunk.

That was when the hunk in question calmly sauntered over to our booth after one brief trip to the bathroom with a lanky, sandy-haired, swimmer-type, who by the way emerged after Brian with touselled hair, crushed red lips and cum stains on the front of his previously pristine white tee.  Brian slipped into the booth next to Mikey and I thought Justin might just swoon. The boy slid down even farther on his seat, so that only his shiny golden hair and those thick horn-rimmed glasses were visible. Brian didn't appear to even notice the wall-flower.

"Comparing more stories about my dick, boys?" The King asked as he gestured to the waiter to bring him a drink. "Don't let me stop you. You know that with every story, my dick grows at least another half inch. Pretty soon they'll have to give my cock it's own ZIP code if it keeps growing like the stories say," laughed the legend himself.

Brian sat with us for quite a while, getting caught up on all the gossip, including the most recent gossip about himself, which he seemed to savour, laughing harder than anyone else at the tales of his tricking. It wasn't too long though before The King was distracted by a pair of gleaming green eyes, which just happened to be attached to a handsome face, a well-muscled body and a scrumptious looking ass. And, before you could say, ‘I done been there', the hunter was off after his chosen prey.

We'd all been settin' for such a spell by this time, that I figgered it was time to shake a tail feather or two before my hiney fell asleep permanent-like. So, I talked my twinkle-toed twinkie teen into taking a turn with me on the dance floor for a few songs. Turns out, Taylor's got rhythm! The boy can certainly boogie. We busted a few moves till we were both beat and the boy begged off to bounce towards the bathroom while I planted my butt back in the booth.

Now, from what I understand, it seems that juicy Justin happened to be in the facilities at just about the same time that Brian and the green-eyed gent were finishing with their games. The boy was trying to freshen up a bit and had removed his offensive ocular aids to splash some cold water on his sweaty face. And that's when Brian exited the stall behind the boy and got his first glimpse of the beaming blue eyes and that bounteous blond-boy bubble butt that are all part and parcel of our pal Justin.

No one really knows what happened that night to The King. Even his closest friends would have told you that prior to this epiphany, Brian Kinney could be cold, calculating, concerned only with his own cares and completely unfit for any long term companionship. People said that maybe it was because those fancy Italian shoes were too tight. Maybe he was so distant because his head wasn't screwed on just right. But I always maintained that the most likely reason of all, could have been that his heart was two sizes too small (due, of course, to his shitty childhood and the fact that his parents had never allowed him to read any Dr. Seuss books)! But, whatever the reason, his heart or his shoes, he stood in that crapper and knew exactly who next to choose!

The renowned chicken hawk was hungry for chicken and the tasty morsel in front of him was a tender treat that his tastebuds thought couldn't be beat. And, poor unsuspecting, uninitiated, unwise Justin had no idea that he'd just been sighted as hawk food! If he wasn't careful, Justin was going to be the next item on Brian Kinney's trick menu.

Providence smiled on the poor boy, though, for at that exact moment, Michael came bumbling into the bathroom, still bouncing to the boisterous beat from the dance floor, and bumped into Brian, temporarily distracting the beautiful brunet from his boy-toy prey.

"Bri, come dance with me! Please. I love this song," Michael demanded.

And, while Brian was busy fending off the extremely excited advances of his best buddy, Justin dried off his brow with a wad of paper towels, replaced the ridiculous specs and scampered off back to the dance floor.

"Where'd he go?" groused the foiled hunter when he'd finally extricated himself from Mikey's embraces.

"Who," Mikey intoned.

"Who do you think? That prime piece of chicken with the tempting tush who was just in here! Damn it, Mikey, you made me look away and now he's gone," Brian complained. "Come on, you're gonna help me find him again!"

Thereafter ensued quite the hullaballoo as the whole gang scrambled to follow Brian's directions in order to locate the lost bird. The search was only slightly hampered by the fact that Brian's glimpse of this perfection had been exceedingly brief (so brief that he didn't recognize the bookish boy from back at the booth) and his description was scanty. As soon as we'd determined conclusively that the chicken in question was nowhere to be found inside the bar, Brian shoved us out the door to continue our searches on the sidewalks.

"What's up, Doc?" Professor Bruckner, having been drafted into the quest by Mikey, heard from behind him as he headed down the street. Looking around, he discovered just-little-ol-Justin regarding the scurrying crew with a bemused look.

"Sshhhh! Be vewy, vewy qwiet. We're hunting wabbit! . . . . I mean chicken. . . .Well, Brian-the-chicken-hawk is, at least. I'm not sure why I'm helping, though," was Ben's bewildered reply.

"Okayyyyy. . . . .Whatever," said Justin, the unknowing chicken himself.

"Hey, Em. It's getting really late and I need to get home before the Beast. Can you give me a ride?" Justin posed to me.

Thankfully giving up the chicken hunt, I acquiesced and the two of us motored away, leaving Brian and his assistants still scouring the streets.

Chapter 5

Justin did beat Brenda the Breeder and his Frightening Father home that night after Woody's, but not by much. He was only to the top of the staircase leading down to his basement boudoir when he heard the garage door opening and his father's car pulling in.  Little did the lad know, though, that Ethan and Ian had driven separately and had already arrived before our barfly boy. And Ethan and Ian, being the badass bullies they were, practically jumped for joy at the thought of all the truly cruel things they could do to Justin with the knowledge of his illicit outing.

The blackmailing bully boys lost no time descending on the unsuspecting urchin.

"Hey, Jus," Ethan drawled as he and his brother crept down the basement stairs. "Getting in a bit LATE, aren't you?"

"Yeah.  It's just a bit late. . . . especially seeing as you weren't supposed to be out at all,"  added the insipid Ian.  "Where have you been, anyway?"

"Wh . . . what do you mmmean," stammered out Jittery Justin. "I wa . . . wasn't out. I was just upstairs sorting laundry like Brenda . . . I mean mom . . . told me to."

"Fat Chance," Tweedle-dee-Ethan retorted, stalking forward towards the scared stutterer.  "We saw you getting dropped off in front of the house not two minutes before Mom & Dad arrived.  And I bet if I went upstairs right now I wouldn't find any laundry sorted either, would I?"

Tweedle-dum-Ian had been circling around behind Justin while his terrible twin had been talking. Ian now ran his finger across Justin's back.

"Where'd you get these clothes," Twin Two intoned. One of the first things Ian the Inconsiderate had noticed when he first saw Justin this evening was the diaphanus, sleeveless, black rayon shirt and tight fitting white chinos I'd purchased for the boy earlier this evening. Our now desperate, defenseless, dear didn't dare duck Ian's devilish demand for knowledge even though he deduced that he was soon to be denuded of his dapper duds.  But, Justin hoped that if he just said nothing, maybe they would just get tired of annoying him?  Probably not, but what else could he do?

Now, Ian had already availed himself of Justin's closets the very day the twins had embarked on the Suite Life of Ethan and Ian, in this, their new home. Ian had promptly removed any really respectable rags from the boy's possession on the pretense that Justin really had no where to wear them and Ian didn't want nice clothes like these to go to waste. So Ian knew with a certain certainty that Justin didn't own anything as nice as the outfit he was wearing now - at least he hadn't as of that afternoon.  

"That shirt is way too good for you, Jus. You'll just ruin it if you wear it while working at the store scrubbing toilets or doing chores. Give it here - I'll take care of it for you," simpered the lousy looter.  

But when Justin stubbornly shook his head and started backing away from the acquisitive asshole, Ian advanced avariciously, grabbing the collar of the shirt and ripping it off the poor thing.

Justin couldn't believe it - he just stood staring at the ragged remains of his once ravishing raiment and the rotten rascal responsible for rending it from him. Evil Twin Ethan apparently found the look on his step-brother's face to be hilarious and his cackling laughter egged Justin's erstwhile enemy on.

"The pants too, Janitor-Boy. I know they'll look much hotter on me," Ian menaced. "Want me to rip them off too?" Ian added with a snivelling sneer.  

Our poor humiliated honey had't the heart to hold out in the face of such hostility. He therefore, meekly, slid his hot new chinos off and let them puddle on the ground at his feet. Ethan, not to be outdone by his ransacking relation, suddenly snatched up the slacks with a nasty smile directed at his sneering sibling.  Ian went to grab at the pants too and a tug-of-war game ensued.  

A basically bare Justin stood there in his briefs, wondering if he'd somehow just fallen through a looking glass as the talkative twins began to argue over the torn togs. In a moment of surrealism, snatches of a nursery rhyme floated through the beleagured boy's brain, "Tweedledum and Tweedledee, Agreed to have a battle . . ." along with visions of Ethan and Ian morphing into two fat little men with beanie hats dancing through his imagination. Shaking his head to dispel the daydream, a joyless Justin turned away and shuffled over to his bed, trying to ignore the tumult.  

Finally winning the prize pants, Ethan smirked back at his step-brother, "thanks, Jus. These'll look great on me."

"Sweet Dreams," said a sulking, slacks-less Ian accompanying his sadistic sibling as the two scaled the stairs, side-by-side, like a modern day Chang and Eng, delayed only briefly as they shouldered each other aside, each striving to be the first through the doorway at the top of the dungeon stairs.

Meanwhile, a sad, scared Justin sat alone in his dungeon worrying about what further havoc the sadistic siblings would come up with now that they were armed with additional information they could use against him. ‘It had been such a fun evening,' thought the boy, ‘why did those cretins have to ruin everything! At least they didn't manage to find out what I'd been doing.' And, once again, the tired, timid, tortured teen took to his bed with a tear-streaked face and a heavy heart.  

As expected, the terrible twat twins weren't done with young Taylor, though, as our hero found out later, to his detriment.

*************************

Sunday should have been Justin's one day to rest and relax.  I mean, everybody is entitled to one day a week off, right? As my Aunt Lula used to say, "even ‘gaters in the bayou get to take Sundays off, Sugar. They might jest drag ya under and stuff ya ‘neath a nice log of a Sunday, but they won't eat ya on the Lord's day - them'll save ya up, let ya get all tender and eat ya up for Monday brunch, instead!"  

Our yummy youth was  in complete agreement with the general public's desire to take Sunday's easy and after his late night excursion, he'd been looking forward to getting in his share of R&R today.

Mommy-Meddlesome had made other plans though. Today was Ms. Nellah's turn to bring refreshments for the after service reception at their church. The congregation at 'Our Lady of the Suburban Shopping Mall' always enjoyed thumping their bibles and castigating sinners over a nice cuppa tea and plate of biscuits after the sermon. And, since Boastful Brenda had been bragging about her buttery biscuits ever since she'd joined the church, the joint consensus among the parishioners had been that this was her week to either put-up or shut-up. Those beautiful baked-goods had been commanded to make an appearance at today's meeting and Brenda was determined to show off her culinary skills.

That's why she had her sleepy-headed step-son up at 4:30 am baking his biscuits off before the dawn even broke. (Honey, you just know that hyped-up housefrau couldn't tell a biscuit from her butt cheek, hence her need for the little baker-boy's assistance.)

So, Justin had been cooking all morning and he'd gotten hot and sweaty and I'm sure his tee shirt was just plastered to his tight little torso with those nip-able little nubs just poking through the damp cotton . . . Is it getting hot in here? (Ooops. Sorry! That's just one of my 'fave'  little fantasies. Now, where was I again? Oh yeah, Justin had been cooking all morning - sigh).

At 10:00 am, once all the delicious dainties had been boxed up, our dear little delivery boy was ordered by his Saintly Step-Mom to tote everything to the truck and then to come with her to get the affiar set up.  At the Rectory, Justin was put in charge of setting up the treats in the vestibule while the family was savoring the sermon. As he was setting out the scrumptious sweets, Justin could hear the prating priest in the background preaching on about the wages of wantoness, the abomination of adultery, the sinfulness of sex and the horrors of homosexuality.  Just as the pedantic priest was getting to his favorite part, as evidenced by his increasingly gleeful tone and rising volubility, going on about all the horrors of hell that these sinners would be subjected to, the Charlatan Chef herself popped her head through the vestibule doors to survey Justin's progress.

"What are you still doing here," shrieked the shrew. "Hurry up, get this stuff tidied up and get out of here before anyone sees you. God help us if our friends find out Jennifer's little fairy-boy son was actually here in the church, let alone that he'd touched the food!  Shoo!  Go on!" She added, waving her arms at the dear dejected, demeaned, debased drudge who had slaved away for her all morning.

Justin gathered up all the trash and packaging and was preparing to depart, as the congregation broke out into the final harmonious hymn of the service: "Every sperm is sacred, every sperm is great. If a sperm is wasted, God gets quite irate . . ."**

"You get straight home, now," admonished Brenda as Justin started for the door. "Sinful little cocksuckers like you definitely shouldn't bee seen slinking around on Sundays."

Justin slammed the door on the end of Brenda's sentence, letting that last line leach away the remains of his lingering low spirits as it simultaneously fanned the flames of his fury.  How dare these lying, vain, sanctimonious, amoral, hypocrites judge me or my lifestyle,' he thought. ‘Fuck that Brute Brenda and my Farcical Father.' Justin wasn't going to hide away and he wasn't going home. He would go spend his Sunday worshiping something worthy of the worship. He was going to Liberty Avenue and he was going to find a real god - a sex god - the one and only Brian Kinney.

Unbeknownst to our little rebel, his retreat was witnessed by two pairs of prying peepers.  Ethan and Ian, intent on discovering their dear little brother's secret, had been conniving ever since last night. They wanted to know what Justin had been up to, where he'd gotten those clothes last night and anything else they could use against him as blackmail.  And, as the justifiably jangled Justin made his way towards Liberty Avenue, two treacherous twins were tailing him all the way.

Chapter 6

Liberty Avenue isn't really one of the most happening places on a Sunday afternoon. There weren't a lot of queers in sight when Justin got off the bus on the Ave after fleeing the Religious-Rightdom that was ‘Our Lady of the Suburban Shopping Mall'. It was too early for the clubs to be open and, while most of the local watering holes were open, there were still many open bar stools to be found. About the only action to be found in the area was down on the corner where the hustlers hung out - you'd be amazed how much business those boys did after all the local churches let out, what with all the closet cases fresh from their weekly castigation, coming to the one place they could be sure of finding a nice stress-relieving cock or two.

Since this was our Baby's first solo mission to the Ave, he wasn't really sure where to start. His one goal - get to that gorgeous gay god - Brian Kinney. I don't think the boy had any idea what to do if he ever found Brian.  But, what's life without whimsy, huh? The fleeing fairy-boy figgered he'd find his favorite stud first and then just wing it from there.

Not really knowing much about the Sveldt Stud, except that he apparently frequented Woody's, our Jovial Justin decided to start his search there. If Brian wasn't there, maybe he could at least tap into the gay grapevine and get some ideas where else to look. Worst case scenario, he would try to find somebody to buy him a drink and . . . whatever else came after that. He was very open minded and willing to learn. He just would prefer to learn from the best and he'd already determined that the best was a certain brunet whose name started with the initials ‘BK'.

It just so happened that little ol me was whiling away my afternoon in Woody's myself - imagine that, me in a gay bar, who'd of thunk it. Anyways, I spied that silky smooth blond mop of hair as soon as the no-longer-quite-so-shy-boy sidled into Woody's and I waived the spunky sprite over.  

"Baby! Did you find a ‘Get out of Jail Free' card or something. How'd you escape suburgatory?" I quickly queried.  

Justin spent the next half hour bringing me up to date on the dastardly deeds of the devilish Ethan and Ian as well as the load of crap dumped on him by the holier-than-thou hypocritical Housefrau and her biased bible thumping buddies.  

"So, here I am. I don't care if they find out I'm not home, either. Since I'm Gay, I might as well be gay - as in 'merry'. At least for a little while," boasted the bitter boy.

And right on cue, our very own Gay Crusader and his band of Merry Men (aka Brian, Michael and Ted) entered the bar in a cloud of laughter, expensive cologne and cigarette smoke. The tittering trio toddled over to join Justin and me at our table and made themselves comfortable. At the first note of Brian's laughter, the little lad's eyes glinted the brightest crystal blue I'd ever seen and his smile was so wide it almost curled back to reach his ears. Justin's objective had just found him!

Brian was in fine fettle this afternoon.  He was dressed in his usual casual splendor - a faded pair of Levi's and a sleeveless dark blue cotton shirt with white piping in a ‘country-western' style, buttoned up the front with mother of pearl buttons. When Justin saw him, I heard a quiet ‘Yee Haw, Cowboy', whispered from his direction, and I have to say I couldn't have agreed more. Any gay boy in his right mind would be more than happy to be roped, hog-tied and ridden relentlessly by that ravishing roustabout!  

"So, Twelve year old Johnny walked in on his hetero father having vigorous sex with his mother," Brian was saying to the guys as they settled at the table. "The father just winked and smiled at his son and kept on doing it. Johnny left the room. The next day young Johnny's father walked in on Johnny having vigorous sex with his grandmother. Johnny looked at this father and said, ‘It's not so funny when it's YOUR mother, is it?'" Chortles of laughter from everyone at the table broke out in response to Brian's joke, including from the little blond beside me.

Brian's attention was momentarily grabbed by the quiet giggling coming from the tantalizing tyro at the table next to me. I think it was the first time that Brian had really looked at Justin. But of course, the silly boy was wearing his Mild-Mannered Clark-Kent disguise again - those butt ugly glasses tended to distract you from seeing the beauty behind them and the baggy clothes . . . well, need I say again how extremely poor the boy's fashion sense was.  

But before Brian could really get an eyeful of our dashing dear, a pair of delicious, muscle-y, dark-skinned arms snaked their way over his shoulders and down his chest while the luscious mocha brown countenance that went with those arms moved in to whisper in Brian's ear. The cheshire cat grin that curled up the corners of Kinney's lovely lips gave away the jist of that short conversation between the two men, and before you could blink, Brian was out of his chair and dragging the dark knight towards the back without further comment.  

At that point, three things happened simultaneously. First, Justin started to rise from his seat, murmuring something about using the restroom. Second, Alistaire, the relief bartender, came over to the table with our drinks order - beers for Justin and Michael, JB for Brian, a soda for Ted and a Kerasi (the most fabulous concoction of peach vodka, cherry puree, peach liqueur, cherry brandy and Sparkling wine - To Die For, honey - but also very, very red) for Moi. And, lastly, Calvin, my squeeze of the season, bustled into the bar and gave out a good old-fashioned Southern hog call to get my attention.  

Well, chaos ensued as the waiter turned slightly to see what the hell was going on at the same time that I jumped up from my seat to greet my sweety and Justin stepped around to my side of the table on his way to the back. The tray with all the drinks knocked into me but was deflected by my arm which was in the process of raising to wave at Calvin. Unfortunately for the unlucky lad, the drinks tray promptly splashed all over Justin's chest and face, knocking his glasses off in the process. Poor Justin was just drenched and his shirt, face and hair were stained a lovely shade of cherry red with little chunks of cherry clinging to his cheeks and coral pink lips.  

Alistaire and I immediately rushed to help the boy clean himself off, with Michael and Ted passing us paper napkins from the table and issuing directions on what parts of Justin to attend to next. Justin was already extremely embarrassed and was getting rather annoyed with the pawing, the wiping and the other attentions, however, and so he did the most expeditious thing he could - while I was scrubbing away at the stains on the front of his shirt and Alistaire was ministering to the sleeve, the boy swiftly unbuttoned the blouse, slipped out of it and proceeded to the bathroom to clean himself off without our help, yelling over his shoulder as he left to ask us to find where his glasses landed.

The sorry-looking, soggy and stained Justin stormed into the bathroom and proceeded directly to the sinks, immediately splashing water onto his face and chest to scrub off the sticky juices. As he was pulling out a ream of paper towels to dry himself, he realized that he was not alone in the restroom - there was a great deal of moaning, grunting and other alluring noises issuing from the end stall, along with a repetitive metallic clank, clank, clank, reminiscent of a belt buckle being repeatedly knocked against the metal stall door. Justin then heard a familiar sounding, low-voiced, murmured ‘Fuck, yes!' and he realized just who was behind door number three.  It was Brian, of course, with the black beauty he'd hooked up with at the table.  

Juicy Justin was more than turned on by the erotic exudations emanating from the end of the room. Every moan from Brian seemed to go straight to his dick. He was hard in less than a moment. He couldn't move - it felt like that cherry syrup had permanently adhered him to the floor but he didn't really care 'cause he was so enjoying the experience. As he stood there, still dripping water and cherry brandy, he found that his hand had found his cock of its own volition and had already started stroking it through his pants. His dick was straining to be free from the confines of his pants.  If those had been button fly jeans, the size of his erection probably would have simply burst the buttons - that's how engorged, how full and how turned on he was.

"What the hell," he quietly commented to himself. "In for a penny, in for a pound." So saying, he impulsively pulled down the zipper on his fly, pulled out his prodigious member and proceeded to provide himself with a little pampering while panting and moaning right along with the parties over in the stall.  

As the ecstatic exclamations from the end of the room escalated in direct proportion to the men's excitement, the blond boy's efforts increased. After only minutes, the noises from the stall indicated that the two men ensconced therein were nearing their climax. Justin began pumping his own cock faster at the same time. And without any further ado, all three men let out groans at the exact same moment as they all orgasmed together. Justin watched as his cum streamed out, splashing against the tile floor then he collapsed back against the sink behind him.  

Unsure if his knees would buckle or not, the boy pulled his body around, grasped the edge of the procelain sink and leaned there waiting for his heart rate to return to normal. He hadn't yet tucked himself away or cleaned up and was just staring into the mirror without really seeing anything, when the end stall door opened and Brian and the beauty bustled out. The trick headed straight for the exit with only a wink towards Brian and a flirtatious tilt of his head.  Brian himself headed towards the sinks to wash his hands when the shirtless blond at the next sink snared his full regard.  

Brian simply stood there and stared. It was as if the flourescent lights in the room had dimmed and a soft spotlight had instantly limned the figure standing before him. The boy standing at the sink was beyond beautiful - he was exceedingly exquisite. The pale, perfect ivory skin glowed in the magical lighting, rivulets of sweat and moisture rolling down the lightly muscled back. The golden hair looked so soft and touchable and the beads of water still adorning the locks caught the light and shimmered it back towards the ceiling creating a halo effect. In the mirror, Brian could see the reflection of azure blue eyes that glinted with life and desire. The coral pink lips were so full and moist and looked like they would taste so sweet. And best of all, in Brian's opinion, the whole package came along with the well-proportioned cock that was peeping out of the boy's fly, half-erect and with a hint of the soft golden pubes surrounding it, already displayed in full view ready for Brian's attentions.  

Brian was drawn towards this amazing sight. He took three steps forward and then was there, wrapping his arms around the slender waist, his mouth already latched on to the slim neck, tasting and sucking at that salty, sweet skin. He locked his gaze onto the reflection of the gorgeous gleaming blue eyes of the man he was holding as he continued to plant delicate, soft kisses along the alabaster skin of the boy's neck and then his cheek and up to the tender lobe of his ear. As Brian's teeth tenderly nipped at the sensitive spot, the blond in his arms moaned, his eyes closing briefly as his head tilted back to rub against Brian's shoulder and then angled to the left to allow the man easier access to more of those spots on his neck that so desperately needed to be kissed.  

While Brian's lips were so pleasantly preoccupied, his palms were busy pressing against the rapidly hardening penis which was his first priority. A particularly throaty groan from the willing, wanton boy in his arms encouraged him to grasp the beautiful dick tighter and his fist began to stroke the silky skin in a slow but steady rhythm. With his other hand, the brunet reached around to the taut chest and stroked the already hard nipple he found there, in time with his fist below, pulling the smaller body more closely against his own lanky frame thereby allowing him to grind his crotch against the boy's pliant, sumptuous ass.  

Brian couldn't believe how turned on he was by this scenario - he had just gotten his rocks off with a fairly decent looking trick not ten minutes ago but the sight that had greeted him when he emerged from the stall had been an instant aphrodesiac. The beautiful boy, on display as if waiting specifically for him, and the lustful look in those eyes when he approached had reinvigorated him faster than he would have ever believed. And just touching the boy was so erotic, what with those dick-stirring noises coming from the crushed-coral lips, that Brian thought he was going to have a hard time not forcing the boy to the floor and fucking him right there.  

The sensations from Brian's hands and lips were surely overwhelming to the inexperienced Justin. He had never even imagined anything close to the cascade of glorious feelings he was experiencing at Brian's direction.  He abandoned himself to the phenomenon. He didn't know that his body was beginning to flush with an enticing pink which blossomed up from his abdomen towards his chest and tinted the pale ivory skin. He didn't realize that the noises he heard, the moaning and whimpers, were coming from him. He didn't know that he was writhing his body wantonly against the hard frame behind him, grinding his ass against the warmth of the hard bulge he felt at his back. All he knew was that he never wanted this feeling to end.  

As the hot blond boy's motions became more and more frantic, Brian could feel that his own body was responding beyond what he'd ever experienced before in any similar situation. How could giving another guy a simple hand job be this much of a turn on? All of a sudden, he felt the boy's shaft stiffen even more in his hands and could sense the momentary stillness in the motions of the thrashing youth. Then, with a bawdy, boisterous groan, the boy climaxed and Brian felt the hot liquid jizz spurting out in pulse after pulse of ecstasy into his hands as he watched the reflection of the boy's face light up with unbelievable pleasure. The effect of that passionate image was so unexpected and the erotic pleasure it engendered in his gut was so intense that Brian could no longer control his own libido and, to his great surprise, he felt himself cumming in his pants as he continued to stroke the boy towards completion.  

The men didn't move for several minutes - they just stood there, leaning against the washstand, Brian's arms still wrapped around Justin's body, helping to hold the boy up since his legs appeared to no longer be up to the task. As his breathing began to return to a more steady pace, Brian's lips again began to trace along the boy's neck and jaw in soft kisses, licks and nips. Neither had yet said anything. Both had been so overwhelmed by the emotions of the encounter that no words seemed to be enough to express what they were feeling. They just stared, through the medium of the mirror, into each other's eyes, drinking in the other's image.  

They probably would have gone on staring at each other for a lot longer, too, if I hadn't rudely interrupted the pretty pair by pounding into the potty and pronouncing at the top of my fairly formidable lungs, "Justin, they must have followed you.  Ethan and Ian are here. You have to get out of here before they see you!" Thus ended the erotic interlude that the exquisite couple had been experiencing.

Scampering into the washroom, I noted the, shall we say, ‘compromising' position of the two men situated in front of the row of sinks. I had no idea what had just happened here, although from the sight of Justin's pants pushed halfway down his ass and his dick firmly planted in Brian's hand, I could make a pretty good guess. The tall brunet looked at me with uncomprehending eyes and started in on me right away.

"What the fuck, Emmy Lou? I'm busy here. Fuck off!" Brian was apparently not finished with our adorable blond beauty yet and since he didn't know who the hell Ethan and Ian were, he couldn't care less if they were in the vicinity.

The other man, though, instantly understood what I'd meant when I'd shouted that his evil step-brothers had found their way to Woody's. Justin's already large eyes got as big as saucers and he got even paler than normal. He stood up without saying anything, began to tuck himself back into his pants and zipped up, pushing Brian away in the process.  

Needless to say, Our Brian was not used to such dismissive behavior on the part of his sexual partners. I mean, when Brian-Fucking-Kinney was done with you, you knew, cause your butt usually stung a little and you mighta got a few scrapes when he kicked ya to the curb. And since Justin was suffering from neither condition, it should have been evident to him that Kinney weren't done with him yet. Apparently though, nobody had told Justin about this rule, and he wasn't waiting around till the bully boys found him while the playbook was explained to him. He was outta there!

"Em, is there a back way out of here?" Justin asked without delay.

"Sure, sweetie. Follow me," I advised and gestured toward the door.  

The last thing I saw as the two of us ran out of the room, was a broken Brian standing alone, with his mouth hanging open a little bit and a look of complete disbelief on his handsome face. I didn't have time to worry about the stud though, so I deftly detoured dear Justin down the hallway and out the rear door.

"Shit! That was close. How do you think they found me?" Justin questioned as soon as we were in the clear.  

"I don't know, Honey, but let's get somewhere safer than this parking lot before we stop to ponder the problem," I advised. I quickly unzipped the sweatshirt I was sporting this afternoon, and handed it to the boy so he could cover up a little and then the two of us were outta there faster than green grass through a goose.  

We picked up our heels, trotted over to the Diner and deposited ourselves in the far back booth, waving to Deb as we went by. Despite our desperate departure, darling Justin was sitting there with a shit eating grin on his face and a dreamy look in his eyes.  

"Well now, don't you look happier than a tick on a fat dog," I commented. "Come on - dish you gorgeous little dish." And the boy delightedly told all about his bathroom baptism into the joys of being a boy. ‘Ahhh, to be young and innocent again. . .' I thought.

*********************

Meanwhile, back at the bar, the two bemused brutes were still looking high and low for their missing bro. But Woody's is a lot like the Diner, in that, pretty much everyone knows everyone there and they don't really cotton to strangers, especially strangers asking questions about where to find someone - well, that is, unless the strangers are really, really hot and have great asses. And since Ethan and Ian were sorta the greasy, slimy little weasel type, and their asses weren't much to write home about, they didn't get much help from the usual patrons. In fact, the reaction they were getting was so cold it could have frozen the balls off a pool table. So the tiresome twins threw in the towel and took themselves off to think through their strategy further.

"I'm sure I saw him get off the bus at this stop," Ian was asserting once again as he and his brother stood on the sidewalk in front of Woody's contemplating where to go next.  

"Well, if you're so sure, where the hell is the little shit?" was the less-than-happy response from Ethan.  

The two base buffoons had been tailing Justin's tail every since the boy had high-tailed it out of the church. As soon as they saw Justin leaving, they had rushed off to their car and surreptitiously followed the boy as he raced down the block and boarded a bus bound for downtown. They'd easily followed the bus for the several miles it had travelled from the burbs to Liberty Avenue. But it hadn't been quite so easy to follow our boy once he'd reached the sanctuary of the street. They'd had to park the car before they could pursue their quarry and by the time they'd found a spot, Justin had disappeared. As they were retracing their steps towards the bus stop where the lad had last been seen, Ian thought he spied the blond head heading into a doorway a block or so away, but they were too distant to be sure exactly which building Justin had gone into. When they got closer, they quickly eliminated several of the nearby establishments before deciding to try their luck in Woody's.  

However, since their efforts had been in vain, thanks to the timely intervention of Marvelous Me, the tiresome troublemakers were left without a clue as to the destination of our dear Justin. Looking first left, then right, with no sign of the amazing, disappearing twink, the twins decided to throw in the towel and head home. The trip hadn't been a complete bust, though. They had amassed one very important bit of knowledge that they knew they could somehow use to their advantage - Justin was spending time on Liberty Avenue. And since everyone knew just what type of boy hung out on Liberty Avenue, the treacherous twosome were thinking that they could use that tidbit in some truly terrible ways, if they only tried.

********************

While Justin was relating his dalliance with the dreamboat, otherwise known as Brian Kinney, we had both ordered some lunch and were busy digging in. As I reached over the table to grab the salt and pepper, I felt the lump in my shirt pocket that reminded me I still had the boy's sorry specs. I handed them over and watched as Justin put the glasses on, amazed at the transformation of the tasty toothsome twink into the wan, washed-out wallflower now in front of me.  

You know, I'd always wondered, while watching all those Superman movies and t.v. shows with Mikey, how everyone around Clark Kent could be so stupid that they couldn't see he was really Superman just because Kent wore those silly specs. But now, watching Justin donning his eyewear, I could see how just putting on those hideous glasses not only changed the boy's appearance, but also his demeanor, to the point that he was almost a different person. Without those half-inch-thick lenses, the boy was hotter than a hound dog in the August sun. His eyes would sparkle and he seemed to sit up straighter and his whole persona seemed larger. But once he put on those glasses, he seemed to shrink a bit and the shine went out of his eyes, his gorgeous blond tresses seemed less blond, his vivacious personality vanished and he almost became a different person right in front of my eyes. ‘Aha!' I thought to myself - I now know Superman's secret and Justin's too!

Once upon a Sunday dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious thought . . . about how to use my new knowledge to boost the boy's self-esteem, I was interrupted in my wondering by the appearance of an alluring six-pack of abs right at eye level. I eagerly let my hungry eyes travel up from those amazing abs, over a well tanned, muscular chest and up to the handsome face of a complete Adonis who instantly distracted me from my more philosophical thoughts, turning my reflections towards the more immediate gratification of my personal needs.  

"Coming to the Leather Ball?" the man said, holding out a piece of paper.

"Hell-o, Gorgeous! I'd cum for you anywhere." I distantly heard the greeting fall from my lips, along with a little drool, as I gazed up at the barely clad beauty in front of me. I've always been a pushover for a man with muscles and, Sugar, this man had so many muscles that it looked like they were gonna just pop out of his skin any minute now. I was completely oblivious to whatever the delectable dish was trying to tell me, wrapped up as I was in fantasies of having my own needy tush wrapped up in his long, lanky legs. Justin luckily was not quite so overwhelmed as I was and managed to grab the flyer the man had been trying to give me out of the dream boy's hand and thanked him, allowing him to move on to the next table.  

"What's the ‘Leather Ball'," asked the ever curious kiddo.

"Huh?" I was still unable to form complete sentences while staring at the departing buns on that dreamboat as he moved on from table to table passing out the flyers.

"Em, focus, please. I asked you what the ‘Leather Ball' was about." Justin managed to finally get my attention away from that absolutely awesome ass.

"Uh . . . the Leather Ball is this fabulous event they hold every year at Babylon," I managed to get out, finally. "It's like a masked ball, slash orgy, slash BDSM event. I go every year, sweetheart. It's loads of fun and, you know, everybody enjoys a leather daddy now and then. A little domination can be quite the turn on, not that I'm into the lifestyle on a full-time basis, you know, but every once in a while I've been known to . . ." I kept prattling on about my own leather bound exploits without realizing I'd completely lost my audience a few sentences back.  

A minute or two later, my tales of Master Spike and the lovely little playroom he had in his basement were brutally interrupted by Justin's imploring, "will Brian be there?"  

"Well, of course, Dear! Brian never misses the Leather Ball. In fact, he's been voted as the King of the Ball for the past four years running." I answered. "See, every year they choose a King of the Ball and he gets to choose his sub ‘Prince' for the night and . . ." Again, I was ranting on about the Ball and all my past experiences with the doms of my dreams, without realizing that Justin's attention was long gone.  

Justin merely finished off his cheeseburger and chocolate shake, and then, grabbing the flyer about the Ball, which happened to be scheduled for next Saturday night, rose from the booth and started for the door, completely ignoring me and all I'd been trying to tell him for the past twenty minutes.

"See ya, Em," was all I heard from the day-dreaming Dearie as he wandered out of the Diner, heading for the bus back to the burbs and his boring basement.

Chapter 8

All the way home, all Justin could think about was the Leather Ball. Of course, the little novice knew nothing about the leather lifestyle, but that didn't matter because the only words he'd heard come out of Emmett's mouth were ‘Ball' and ‘Brian'. After his washroom adventure with the man earlier in the afternoon, Justin knew that he had to have more of the amazing brunet and he thought that, just maybe, this Ball would be his best bet at getting what he wanted.

Unfortunately for the day-dreaming darling, Ethan and Ian had long beat him home and were on the look out for the poor boy's return. They pounced on poor little Justin faster than a barn cat on a cornered rat as soon as the boy walked through the front door. The lovely lad, whose head was still in La-la-land with the gorgeous and gallant Kinney and swirling fantasies of whirling and dancing amongst half-naked men, was taken completely by surprise by the ambush.

Ethan, who had been leaning against the staircase banister, popped up and grasped Justin around his shoulders, but not in a nice glad-to-see-ya-hug kinda way. Ian, who had been standing between the doorjamb and the front window where he had a good view of the driveway and front walk, popped up behind the boy and snaked his arm around the kid's waist with one hand while tearing the paper Justin was holding out of the unsuspecting child's hand. Justin just gaped back and forth between the two, uncomprehendingly.

"Sooooo, what have we got here?" began the interrogation by Ian as he perused the pamphlet purloined from poor Justin. "The ‘Leather Ball'? What the hell is this all about, little brother?"

"Gimme that," ordered Ethan as he grabbed the flyer away from his twin. "Oh, no, no, no, no. Dear, Justin. You don't actually think that you are going to go to this Ball thing, now do you? Hmmm?"

"I might," was the brave backlash from our bonny bold boy.

"What? You think you'll go to the Ball and meet some handsome prince who'll take you away from all this?" Ethan began taunting the twink. "Grow up, Taylor. This isn't some fairy tale. It's real life and there's no way YOUR homophobic Dad is going to let you go to some Fairy Ball. More likely he'll have your BALLS if you even bring it up. And no way are we gonna let you sneak out of here - no, this is way too much fun!"  

"Please," Justin grovelled, "don't tell my father. Please. He's already threatened me with sending me off to some deprogramming camp. Please."

"Well, what's in it for us?" Ian was always willing to compromise - of course his idea of a compromise was one where he got his way completely and the other person got shafted.  

"I . . . I don't know," Justin couldn't think of anything he could offer that these boys couldn't just take from him anyway. "What . . . what do you want?"

"Well, let's think about that." Ethan had always been the more introspective of the two Nellah brothers. ‘What do I want?' he thought. The dirt they had on Justin was too good to waste on just any old petty blackmail scheme. They already had the boy totally cowed - he did all their chores and most of their homework. They could take anything that belonged to Justin without fear of any reprisals from the meek boy or his father. While he was contemplating just what would be the best possible extortion request in this particular circumstance, he happened to glance down at the flyer in his fist.  

"Hmmm. I think that Ian and I would have much more fun at this Ball than you," Ethan opined. "I think that if you agreed to help us get costumes and agreed to cover for us with the ‘rents the night of, we might agree not to tell your dad about your extracurricular activities. Plus, you'll of course have to do anything else we tell you for the rest of the week". (Okay, Ethan may have been the more introspective of the two brothers but he wasn't exactly a genius. In fact, if brains were leather, he wouldn't have enough to saddle a junebug. Apparently the fact that, by revealing he and Ian were interested in attending the Leather Ball, he'd just intimated that he and Ian were both into men and/or leather themselves, slipped his notice.)

When given these alternatives, Justin looked about as happy as a dead pig in the July sunshine. Get outed to his Dad or help these two morons go to the Leather Ball in his place - not much of a choice. Mild-mannered, glasses-clad demeanor notwithstanding, Justin was seething inside. There was no way he was going to help these heinous, hateful hellions towards their happy-ever-after if he was hindered from being with the heaven-sent hunk otherwise known as Brian Kinney. But our boy wasn't exactly lacking in the brains department, so he simply agreed to the outrageous demands of his sadistic siblings - for now, that is.

*********************

A joyless Justin called me later that night to relate his doings with the detestable duo when he got home. The little blond twink wasn't nearly as empty-headed as one would expect, though, and together, we came up with a perfect plan as to how we would do in the beastly brothers and still get our beautiful boy to the Ball. However, you know that old saying about best laid plans of mice and men . . .

**********************************

The next evening found the three siblings situated in the suite of the favored sons of the house. Ethan and Ian had directed Justin to bring them up a tray of snacks to slake their hunger while the young Taylor helped the tiresome twins try-on and tailor some togs that they thought they might wear to the Ball. The beleaguered boy barrelled into the boudoir bearing a tray bountifully brimming with yummy bites of many different cold cuts, fruits and vegetable bits. (Did I mention how incredibly spoiled these two were - they rarely ate what was served to them at dinner and would instead demand that they be served whatever dainties they desired later in the day). Justin barely managed to heft the huge trayful of goodies over to the sideboard before dropping it disgustedly and turning towards the step-beasts to hear their next demand.

Ian was in the middle of displaying his latest dress option for the ball - the current outfit looked like a knockoff Zorro costume complete with cheesy cape and half mask. He was also brandishing around a fencing blade - god only knew where he got that - waving it wildly around and almost poking his brother's eye out in the process. Justin had to hold back a snicker of derision. He barely stopped himself.

To keep himself occupied and his mouth busy so that he wouldn't be tempted to tell the two twats what he really thought of them, he turned to the snack tray. He looked over the selection of fresh fruit and almost went for the nice ripe banana. But, as he extended his hand to grasp the luscious fruit, he hesitated. No, he thought, he was in the mood for something much more . . . tart. Ahh, the jar of pickles called out to him and he used a fork to spear the largest pickle he could find, admiring its girth and length as he sucked on it. Unfortunately, his pleasurable pickle moment was rudely interrupted by Ian demanding his attention and his opinion of the Zorro costume.  

Luckily for the lad, he didn't have to voice his low opinion of Ian's choice as he was interrupted by Ethan entering and attempting to sport the ‘Biker Look' complete with spiked leather collar, black leather vest and chaps. This time he couldn't hold back the loud guffaw that erupted from his gut. "Really, Ethan?" Justin commented. There was no way the scrawny, flat chested, muscle-less Ethan could carry off that costume. He'd be laughed out of the club faster than kudzu covers an oak tree in Alabama. Reluctantly, Ethan retreated to try on his next option.

Justin almost choked on his pickle as Ian entered the room with his next fabulous ensemble. This time Ian was sporting a swashbuckler theme, complete with cropped leather leggings, a large leather belt with an ostentatious gold belt buckle and a loose fitting leather vest over a blousy white shirt adorned with a cascade of frills down the front.  

"Hello. My name is Inago Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die," Ian ventured in his best spanish (sorta) accent while again brandishing the fencing epee.

This time Justin's glee could not be constrained. He began laughing so hard he doubled over and eventually fell to his knees, dropping his lovely pickle in the process, completely out of breath. When Ethan came back into the room garbed in a ‘Black Bart' leather cowboy getup, Justin was literally rolling on the floor, laughing so hard he thought his ribs would break and with tears streaming from his eyes. Needless to say, his brothers were not very enamored with his responses and ordered him out of the room and back to his dungeon forthwith.

*********************

Meanwhile, Justin and I were surreptitiously working on the boy's very own ball attire. The plan was that Jus would complacently go along with the bastard boys demands - helping them get ready for the Ball, hemming their pants and otherwise pretending to go along with their demands. All the time, though, the two of us would be working to get Justin ready as well. Now I knew the two little spies wouldn't let Sunshine out of the house, but after our last two shopping excursion, I already had a pretty good idea of his size and what would look good on the boy (well, to be honest, practically anything would look good on that pretty little bubble butt). So I did the shopping for the boy while he was kowtowing to the two kibitzing kids.  

Now the wedding plans were winding up since the big day itself was only two weeks away at this point. But that meant that there were ample opportunities for Justin and I to meet as I was constantly coming and going, accommodating Brenda's many and often vacillating demands.  

I finally managed to slip him the duds I'd decided on for the dear on Thursday afternoon. I'd picked up a fairly conservative ensemble for him - a black silk shirt (one size too small, of course), with tight fitting leather pants that should perfectly hug that pert ass of his and a tasteful half-mask/leather collar combination - like I said, for the Leather Ball this was pretty conservative. Justin was beyond thrilled with my choices and couldn't wait to try everything on. But just then we heard Ethan and Ian drive up in their rather loud muscle car, so the boy had to simply hide the outfit for now and promised to try it on later and call me with his final opinion.  

Now, the only thing I was still worried about was that egregious eyewear of his. I tried to talk him into just leaving the lenses at home on Saturday. Justin refused though, arguing that he was stone-blind without the glasses and it wouldn't do him any good to be bumbling around at the Ball completely blind. He wanted to see everything - wasn't that really the point? I reluctantly agreed that it probably would be better if he could see where he was walking and who he was walking into, at least so he could tell the trolls apart from the studs.  

However, just as I was getting up to leave, Brenda the Breeder called down the stairs ordering the hottest little cookie around to get cleaned up and come help her with dinner. Justin laid his glasses on the side table near the sofa we'd been sitting on and plodded to the washroom to clean his face and hands off before venturing into the kitchen. I saw my chance and took it without a second thought - I grabbed those beer-bottle lenses, stashed them in my bag, yelled over my shoulder, "Chow, Darling" and bolted out of the house before Justin could catch me.  

You see, I had a plan of my own - I knew how to magically transform the timid toy boy, but I would need to prepare the ingredients for my potion first and those glasses were part of the spell.

Friday was an incredibly busy day for our poor jinxed Justin. First of all, he discovered early on that his glasses were missing. After spending more than a half hour looking for them, he finally gave up and had to hurry off to school without them. As a result of this spectacular spectacle situation, the poor boy had a terrible day at school. He kept getting called on by all his teachers to read items off the blackboards or locate items the teachers needed, neither of which he was able to do in his near-blind state. By the end of the school day, he was frustrated, furious and fed up with the whole fucking day.  

The bad day didn't end there, though. There had been a minor plumbing disaster at his father's store (involving, so I was told, a lit cherry bomb being deposited in the toilet in the employee's restroom - the shit literally hit the fan after that). Justin was the hapless handyman handpicked by his horrible father to clean up the horrendous mess. The poor boy ended up being at the store, mop in hand, for much longer than usual because of the plumbing predicament and didn't make it home until well after 7:30 pm.  

As soon as the tired out twink trudged through the door, the trouble twins corralled him in their suite with demands about their Ball costumes and last minute tailoring. In spite of Justin's hilarious responses the previous day, Ethan was still determined to wear the Black Bart Cowboy get up and Ian was apparently going as Zorro. Justin reluctantly responded to the repeated requests to sew this, add that and change the other. By the time the duo was done with Dear Justin's services for the night, it was already well after midnight and the yawning youth toddled off to his bedroom and fell into his bed, asleep before his head hit the pillow.  

Saturday saw the sorry stripling once again being hounded by his horrible family from dawn till dusk. In fact, the boy was busier than a one-legged man in a butt kicking contest all day. Starting just after the sun came up, Justin was pressed into service by that Bruiser Brenda to clean the house and prepare a luncheon to be served for her ladies' bridge group, who were due to arrive at 1:00 pm. As soon as the bridge ladies were served and settled, Justin was dismissed.  

He didn't even make it as far as his basement staircase, though, before Demanding Daddykins collared him with a list of chores in the yard including mowing the lawn, sweeping the steps, repainting the pansies purple (Craig didn't like the yellow ones), weeding the compost pile, de-thorning the rose bushes along the front walk and cleaning the grout on the tile patio with a toothbrush to make sure the crevasses were all dirt free. The dear drudge was dashing through these dreary drills as fast as his fabulous fanny could manage, but it was nearly 5:00 pm before he finally ran out of purple paint just as he'd come to the end of the last bed of pansies.  

As tired as he was, Justin was still jazzed with anticipation about the Leather Ball. He hadn't even had a chance to try on his costume for the Ball yet. As soon as he got to his room, he quickly gave his Auntie Em (also known as ‘Moi') a call and told me that he was finally done for the day and was going to start getting ready for the big event. I amiably agreed to amble over to the Taylor-Nellah abode to help the boy with his attire. So saying, I rapidly packed up my ditty bag with all the necessary notions and novelties I'd gathered to transform the timid twink into a Kinney-worthy Prince and hied my nellie bottom rear over to Justin's place.

When I arrived, I was delighted to discover Justin already dressed to kill and displaying his leather finery while parading around his dungeon digs. All I can say is the boy looked HOT. I mean, not just cute boy HOT, but melt-in-your mouth yummy HOT. As my Aunt Lula would say, that boy was prettier than a glob of butter melting on a stack of wheat cakes. I was so happy to see my little protege all dolled up and looking like a million bucks, that I couldn't contain my glee - I just had to clap my hands, jump up and down and squeal like a pig in a poke.

Looking back, that was probably not the wisest thing I coulda done. See, the hullaballoo I'd raised had a pretty negative side effect - Ethan and Ian, who had just been coming into the house, heard the noise and came downstairs to investigate. Needless to say, the little green-eyed monster of jealousy instantly reared its very ugly head as both of the beastly brothers realized exactly how HOT their scapegrace step-brother was in his lovely leathers.  

No way was either of the twat twins gonna hold a candle to the precious princeling parading before them, and they both knew it. Ethan also quickly realized that, while they'd told Justin THEY would be going to the ball in his place, once he and Ian left the house, they had no way of stopping Justin from going too. And he wasn't gonna let little bro show up and show them up. The only solution, as far as Ethan could see, was to make it impossible for the imp to impose himself on the gala event. How better to do that, he thought, than to make sure Justin didn't have a costume.  

"What have we here?" began the bitter Ethan while surveying Justin's fine fashions. "Justin, this just won't do, I'm afraid. This shirt is far too fine for the likes of trash like you. I think it would go perfectly with my costume, though. Don't you? Give it here!" As he said this, Ethan had stalked around the poor lad, eyeing the scrumptious silk shirt, trailing his index finger along the fabric. When he got to the part of his speech where he said ‘give it here', he hooked his finger into the front of the shirt and yanked the material as hard as he could, tearing the cloth and popping off all the buttons, letting out an evil laugh at the very same time.

Catching on to his brother's plan, Ian chimed in. "Don't you think those pants would go with MY outfit way better than the one's I have, Ethan," Insidious Ian intoned.

"Definitely," decided Evil Ethan. Then, giving a venomous stare in my poor boy's direction, he asked, "what do you think, Justin? Hmmm? Better give those pants to Ian."  

Jolted Justin had finally been pushed too far though. He wasn't going to just strip and give the two vile villains whatever they demanded.

"Fuck you, Ethan! I am NOT letting you have these pants or anything else of mine from now on," Justin yelled back at the dastardly duo. "I'm through with letting you two bully me. I AM going to the Leather Ball tonight. There is nothing you can do to stop me!"

At this, Ethan turned towards Ian briefly and must have somehow conveyed a signal that Justin and I couldn't see. But it all happened too quickly for either of us to respond. Ethan immediately turned around, and stepped towards Justin, with a conciliatory expression on his greasy countenance while holding his hands up in front of him, palms up and open.  

"Justin, Justin. We're not trying to bully you," Ethan began as he stepped closer to Justin. "We're going to be brothers soon. We would never try to bully you . . ."  

His kind words were belied by his next actions, though. Once he had sidled up to within an arm's length of Justin, his once open palm curled into a fist and he vigorously slammed said fist into Justin's gut, causing the beautiful blond to double over in pain. I would have swiftly sprung to the boy's defense as soon as I saw him crumple, but, unbeknownst to me, Ian had been stealthily sneaking around behind me even as Ethan spoke. When Ethan had lashed out at Justin, Ian had wrapped his arms around me so that I couldn't get to Justin. With Justin now writhing on the ground trying to get his breath back, Ethan had a free moment to help Ian with me - I'd almost struggled free of the cretain's grip but then Ethan came up and the two of them managed to grapple me backwards towards a storage closet, shove me inside and lock the door before I could do anything.  

From within my pitiful prison, I could hear the sounds of continued conflict coming from the outer room. Justin had finally got his breath back enough to start shouting and cursing at the vile villains currently violating his person. I was pounding on the closet door, trying to get out the whole time, but I could still hear the sounds of meaty fists slamming into soft flesh and the accompanying grunts of pain from the tormented target of this torture.

After several minutes of this cacophony, I heard footsteps ascending the stairs and then the room went eerily silent. I panicked. I couldn't bear the thought of anything dire happening to winsome, wonderful Justin. My imagination momentarily ran off on me and I thought for sure he was lying in a pool of blood in the middle of the basement floor. But just as I let out the first of my mournful wails, the sound of the hasp on the door lock being pulled back startled me into silence. Seconds later, I gladly glimpsed the now grazed grin of my favorite blond boy.  

Justin pulled open the closet and drug me out of that dreary den straight into a tearful hug. I tried to comfort the sorry lad, but nothing I said could staunch the tears streaming down that sad-sack face. When I finally managed to pry Justin's arms away enough to look down at the boy, I saw to my horror that the bully boys had managed to strip Justin of all his finery at the same time as they had apparently pelted him mercilessly with their fists and feet. Bruises were already blooming on his torso and chest. But, luckily, it didn't look like they had managed to mar the boy's marvelous face. I drew the dear back into my arms and gave him a tight hug, murmuring comforting nothings all the while, until the tears finally abated and the sobbing began to quiet.  And as soon as the hysterics had subsided sufficiently, I sat that boy down on the corner sofa and started thinking.  

Now, I may look like a big ‘ol Nellie Queen to some folks. I know that lots of people tend to dismiss me because I do flame, just a bit. But you don't grow up gay in Hazelhurst, Mississippi, being constantly harassed and hounded by the likes of Beau and Forest, the bigot brothers, without learning a thing or two about standing up for yourself. And I might not be able to beat those treacherous twins with my fists, but I sure as shootin' was gonna beat them with my brain.  

I looked over the sorry state of the sad boy sitting in front of me and began to take stock. He'd been stripped bare down to his briefs. What Ethan and Ian hadn't taken with them had been torn and abandoned on the basement floor. I still had a few of the more important items I'd been saving for the boy in my bag, but we obviously needed to find him something new to wear. It was now almost 7:00 pm, which meant we didn't have much time to remedy the woeful state of our boy's wardrobe, get him attired and get the boy to the Ball. I was nothing, though, if not resourceful - the boy scouts didn't know what they were missing when they passed me up for membership ‘cause I more than lived up to the motto of "Always Be Prepared". And I WAS prepared with a definite ‘Plan B'.

"Cheer up, Sunshine. All is not lost!" I said as I lifted the lad to his feet, guiding him towards his clothes closet. "We are NOT gonna let those twerps win! Get dressed and come with me.  I have an idea. You just watch your Auntie Em do his thing. And don't worry, I'm gonna take care of everything!"  

A tearful twink gazed up at me briefly, wiped his nose with the back of his wrist and rose to his feet. I could see that Justin was doubting my abilities, but I knew that it weren't over till the fat lady sang, and since Deb wasn't around, I wasn't about to give up yet. I had ANOTHER cunning plan.

*****************

An hour later I stood behind Justin as the boy surveyed himself in the full-length oval mirror in front of him.  

"Well?  What do you think?" I prodded my pal for an answer.  

"You are AMAZING Em! God, it's like a fairy tale," the incredulous imp intoned. "Are you sure you aren't a real fairy Godmother or something? This is practically a fucking miracle!"

I wasn't gonna argue with the boy, though. He did look miraculously magnificent. The cringing child that I'd scooped off that dreadful basement floor only an hour ago was now completely eclipsed by the stunning sight staring back at me from the mirror.  

You see, it just so happened that I'd recently hooked up with a Hot, hot, hot, little number who was currently touring with the Cirque de Soleil. (God, don't get me started on the things that boy could do - you think the performers in the circus are amazing, but you should see the contortions that boy could manage in bed. But, that's a whole other story). The little cutie, whose name was Dominic, just happened to be about Justin's size, too. And, while I'd been surveying the damage left by Ethan and Ian back in the bleak basement, Darling Dominic just burst into my brain. If anyone could help us with last minute costume issues, it was Dom.

I'd therefore hustled the desolate Justin off to Dominic's domicile, calling ahead of course to give my dreamboat the head's up. Dom was just thrilled with the challenge and soooo excited to help out in such a good cause. He said he'd be waiting and that he had exactly what we needed. So, when we arrived at his apartment, Dom just dragged the two of us in and immediately started in on the ‘Transformation of the Twink', as it will forevermore be called. The results, as I've already mentioned, were more than magnificent.  

As soon as Dom saw Justin's pale skin and slender physique, he decided to go a whole different direction than I had previously pursued. And damn it all if he wasn't perfectly right - I don't know WHY I hadn't seen it before. Our beautiful boy, with his golden hair, fair skin and sprite-like frame, was definitely NOT the black leather-clad type. Not at all! Instead, Dom embraced the light and decided to dress up our Doll-baby like the angel he truly was.

This resplendent, radiant being was the end result of all our efforts, and both Dom and I were ecstatic with the outcome. Justin stood in front of that mirror clad head to toe in leather, but not the dull, dark, dungeonous, black leather that was the standard fare for the Leather Ball. No, Justin's leathers were all pure, pristine white; from the medieval-looking white leather mask, to the tight, torso-hugging while silk shirt, to the even tighter, thigh-hugging white leather pants and the white leather boots underneath. With his pale ivory skin and that glorious mop of golden hair, the boy just glowed with beauty. No one was going to miss this boy when he made his debut at tonight's ball. He was going to stand out among those black-clad leather daddies and subs like the immortal image of innocence he was!  

And, finally, for the last two pieces that would make the package perfect. I reached inside my fairy godperson bag and pulled out two fairly small packages. Justin opened the first and grinned up at me with thanks evident in his eyes - I'd taken his glasses to my optometrist first thing Friday morning and he'd rushed me a set of contacts matching Justin' prescription which had arrived just this morning. Now the lovely lad could go to the ball without those ugly lenses and still be able to see what he was getting himself into. Which was going to be important now that he was dressed the way he was, cause he was gonna have to beat the trolls off with a stick to keep their paws off his plucky person.  

The second package was a little larger than the first. I couldn't hold back a gleeful giggle as the boy started to open this little beauty. He was soooo gonna love this present - and so were all his dance partners. Justin slid the lid of the box off and looked at the thing of beauty inside. Then the boy looked up at me with true wonder in his eyes and a grin a mile wide on his face.

"It's so exquisite, Em. I . . . I can't accept this. It’s got to have been expensive. Really, Em, this is too much." Justin rambled on, not able to accept the trinket I'd offered.  

"Nonsense, Darling!  It's the perfect accessory for that gorgeous outfit," I admonished. "If I'm truly going to be your Fairy Godperson, then you have to let me do this for you - it's part of the whole fairy tale package thing, you know. Cinderella had her glass slippers, right? Well, just consider this the gay boy alternative to glass slippers."

Since I'd cut off all Justin's possible objections, he turned again to the little box and lifted out my most precious present. It truly was a thing of beauty, even if I have to say so myself. And when he saw it, even Dom had to gasp, because the thing that Justin was now holding in the palm of his hand was a matchless, hand-blown glass, triple-crown cock ring! It was truly a one-of-a kind piece of art, (my friend Trevor makes them, you see, and hand blows every one of them - plus he will often blow his patrons too . . . if you're nice). This one was simply perfect for the ingenue Justin. It was clear glass on the outside with a pale blue strand of glass inside seemingly floating there. And thinking about how much fun Justin was gonna have with that little goody all night, just about dilled my pickle!  

"The piece de resistance!" I exclaimed. "And now, gentlemen, once you get that on, Justin, I say it's time we depart for the Ball!"

Chapter 10.

Justin, Dom and I proceeded upstairs and headed outside, excited by the prospects that lay ahead of us on this Enchanted Evening. Dom, ever the gentleman, held the door open for me and Justin, bowing elegantly just like a fairy tale footman (although I happen to know he wasn't really a foot man - he was definitely an ass man - although I suppose that didn't mean he couldn't occasionally admire a well turned ankle here and there). I dropped him a perky little curtsy as I sashayed by and was rewarded by a slap on my perky little heinie, which actually stung a little since, of course, I was wearing my favorite crotchless chaps which left a good portion of my bonny butt cheeks unprotected.  

At the end of the driveway, Justin started to head over towards my functional little mini-van parked at the curb.  

"Hold up, Honey!"  I halted him. "We simply can't go to the Ball in that beat up old heap.  Just wait a minute and I'll call for our carriage!"  

"Our what?" Justin questioned.  

"You'll see!" I dug my cell phone out of the inside pocket of my black leather vest (that's the one major drawback with wearing leathers, don't ya know, no pockets to keep your keys, wallet and cell in - Oh well, the things we go through in the name of fashion, right). "Mick. We're ready honey. Come and get us," I trilled into the phone then gave Dom's address to the carriage driver.  

Not five minutes later, a glamorous stretch white limo pulled up to the curb in front of us and a tall, lean, butch blond hopped out of the drivers seat, coming around the vehicle to hold open the side door for our little party.

"G'day, gentlemen. I'm Mick Lundee. I'll be your driver tonight. Just let me know if there is ANYTHING I can do to, I mean for, you," came the sultry greeting in a sexy baritone voice complete with an Australian accent that could make you cream your pants just listening to it.  

Mick's eyes were glued to Justin's gorgeous visage the entire time he was talking and I was pretty sure the reason his luscious red tongue came out to lick across his full lower lip was to tend to the drop of drool that had escaped from the corner there. I smiled indulgently - Oh, yes, our baby Justin was going to be making quite a statement tonight. I could already tell.  As Justin bent to enter the limo, Mick's gaze followed the pretty, perky ass with such hunger in his look that I worried briefly if Dom and I hadn't overdone the effects a little, but, C'est la Vie, Baby. I had to forcefully nudge Mick out of his revery so that Dom and I could get into the limo behind our little star.

"How did you work this, Em?" the angel boy asked once we were settled into the luxurious limo.  

"Mick's a dear, dear friend of mine.  I use his services all the time in my party planning business. He's actually working tonight for another one of my clients, but managed to slip us in after he dropped off the other party. He can pick us up too, but he told me we have to be ready and waiting outside Babylon by midnight so he can get us home and then get back to his clients on time. So, just make sure to be ready on the stroke of midnight or our carriage will simply disappear," I warned the boy.

"You're the best, Auntie Em," beamed the boy. "Don't worry, I'll be there on time.  I still can't believe you've done all this for me.  It's like magic!"

"Bibbity, Boppity, Boooooo-ty!" I replied in my best Fairy Godperson falsetto.*

In no time at all, we arrived at the scene of the affair - Babylon, the most preeminent gay dance club in Pittsburgh. And tonight the place was done up to the nines! The entrance had been draped with black leather curtains held back by red velvet roping. There was a red carpet leading all the way from the door to the curb and crowds of gaping bystanders were held back from this aisle by more velvet ropes.  It looked like a movie premiere at Grauman's Chinese Theater.  

I directed Mick to pull right up to the red carpet. One thing I've learned in my business is that it's all about appearances, honey, and how you make an entrance. Tonight I didn't care that we hadn't been specifically invited to use the red carpet, but damned if I was gonna stand in line with the rest of the Hoi Polloi. Not with my little trump card, Juicy Justin, in hand.  I knew that with the way that boy looked tonight, there was no way any bouncer would fail to let us in with the rest of the A-listers.  

"Ready, boys?" I asked as we watched Mick come around to open the limo door.

"I don't know. How do I look, really," asked the nervous nellie boy next to me.

"Justin, you look great. In fact you look ‘Shagadelic, baby'," I added in my best Austin Powers imitation. This got us all giggling and dispelled some of Justin's nerves, enough so that when he finally emerged from the limo, he was smiling and didn't look at all jittery.

"Follow me, boys," I directed as I raised my chin to an appropriately haughty height and strutted down the carpet like a model working the runway. Dom followed in my wake, waving to the assembled bystanders in his full performer's persona. And behind him came little Justin.

I guess I won't be calling the boy ‘Little Justin' for much longer though.  He definitely didn't look like a 'little' anything as he purposely paraded up the red carpet with his head held high, his golden hair gleaming in the spotlights and his piercing, sapphire eyes glinting through the enigmatic white leather mask. The crowd became silent as he passed by them. All eyes were captured by the angelic vision of beauty which had appeared in their midst. And our entourage floated right up that carpet and in through the entrance while the bouncers held the doors wide without any comment at all. ‘Make a splashy entrance - Check', I thought to myself with a grin.

The party inside was already in full swing when we arrived. ‘Always arrive fashionably late - Check', I thought as I mentally went through my internal To Do list. Now, all we had to do was get the attention of prince charming - or in this case, Brian Kinney - and then I trusted that Justin could take it from there.  

What better way to get some attention than by making a scene, I thought, so as soon as we walked into the main room of the club, I snatched a handy little leather riding crop away from the nearest party-goer and used it to clear a path through the throng of teeming men.  Dom followed my lead and between the two of us we managed to clear a pathway so that our Worship-Worthy Ward, who was following a couple of paces behind, could walk without worry through the waves of wondering watchers, all gaping at the wondrous sight.  

While the thumpa, thumpa of the music continued, the overall noise level in the club dropped about two decibels as Justin waltzed through the crowd and approached the dance floor. Many of the dancers were routed from their revelry by the hush preceding our little party and they all turned to stare. Then, almost as if by magic, an opening broke through the crowd of bouncing, sweaty, half-naked, dancing men, providing a straight shot at the tall, dark and handsome figure still posing at the center of the dance floor.  

Brian Kinney - the Stud of Liberty Avenue, the man voted ‘Most Likely to Fuck Everything He Sees' according to his high school yearbook and BDOC (Big Dick On Campus) at college, the man who was responsible for more than half the cum stains on the walls of the backrooms of half the clubs and bathhouses in Pittsburgh - was standing alone at the center of the dance floor with his gaze riveted on the white-leather-clad dream approaching him.  

Justin didn't waiver even for a moment. He didn't even look at any of the ogling men he passed.  Justin had eyes for only one man and went to him like a homing pigeon to roost. The Daring Dear walked straight up to the waiting hunk, looked him in the eyes briefly, then raised his arms to drape them over Kinney's shoulders as he began to sway his hips seductively from side to side.  

"Dance with me," he whispered into Brian's ear.  

"It'll be my sincere pleasure," Brian whispered back as he grasped the slim frame of his dance partner by the hips and pulled the younger man closer. The bodies of the two men melted into each other perfectly, pressed tightly from knee to chest. The pair kept undulating to their own internal music while their hands wandered freely over each other's backs and shoulders and down to trail over rounded, full glutes. And finally, the crowd seemed to shake its collective heads and the other dancers on the floor pulled their attention away from the center couple to resume their own seductions.

I kinda lost track of the two of them about this time, as the crowd again encircled the pair. So, I pulled Dom with me up the stairs and onto the catwalk above where I could keep an eye on the Cub and the Cad and still shake my own booty a bit. It took us ten or fifteen minutes to get to a spot where we could gain a glimpse of the glorious duo. By this time, the situation below had already progressed from the touching phase to the tongueing phase - the two men's lips were locked together and there was some obvious tongue action taking place. ‘You go, baby', was my only thought as I felt I could finally relax and let the tyro take things from here. Besides, I had my own celebrating to do at this Ball and I knew that my dom, Dom, had some special activities planned for me this evening - it was time for the newbie to sink or swim on his own.  

I pieced together the rest of the tale of that evening later, using the info I got from my usual sources and from what Justin told me. And unfortunately, as these things go, the path to true love wasn't that smooth - I mean, what would be the point of telling the whole tale if all you could say was that the boy walked right up to the man of his dreams, fell into his arms and lived happily ever after?  I mean, that would likely put all of us Fairy Godpeople right out of business, not to mention the fan fiction writers and romance novelists. Anyways, as expected, there were complications - a bunch of them - and since I was a little distracted (mostly due to the blindfold and leather handcuff Dom had brought with him as party favors), I'm afraid that poor Justin had to face these problems all by his little old lonesome.  

You see, amidst the admiring crowd of onlookers on the ostentatious dance floor that evening, there were two not-so-admiring oglers. The Dreadful Duo of Ethan and Ian had arrived much earlier in the evening and were leaning against the bar at the instant that Justin staged his grand entrance. The two witnessed the way the waif-in-white waltzed in and, without wasting any time, wrested away the attentions of the tall brunet wonder who they'd been admiring all evening.  

Ethan was instantly infuriated at how easily the ingenue simply walked up to Kinney and took control of the otherwise dominant stud.  He himself had tried to hit on the man earlier in the evening and got only a cursory, ‘Fuck Off' for all his efforts. And, so far, neither he nor Ian had had much luck with any of the other hotties here at the Ball, which meant that Ethan was not in the best mood when the newcomer arrived. In fact, Ethan was feeling as mad as a mule chewing on a mouthfull of bumblebees. And the more he watched the white and black figures entwined together at the middle of the dance floor, the angrier he got.  

Now when Ethan got angry, it was generally a bad thing for anyone around him, because Ethan was a real stinker. That boy wasn't one to let bygones be bygones.  He wasn't one to turn the other cheek. He definitely wasn't one to learn from negative experiences and use them to become a better person. No, he was the type to store up his anger inside until it festered like a boil on the butt cheek of a fat man. He would save up all that fury and when it had soured and festered and fermented, he would lash out at anyone and anything nearby in the most hurtful way he could think of. And right now, he was thinking about revenge!

With the most malicious of evil glints in his eye, Ethan turned to his brother, pulled his head closer and began to whisper into Ian's ear, occasionally pausing to snicker as he darted his eyes with a determined scowl towards the figure in white on the dance floor. Ian, whose heart was equally as rotten and black as his brother's, sneered and snickered along and even, once, wrung his hands together in an evil fashion. Then, without any further clues as to their intents, the two moved away from the bar area and disappeared into the crowd.

Meanwhile out on the dance floor, Big Bad Brian appeared to still be entranced with the angel in his arms. Quite out of character for him, he hadn't simply pulled the boy to the backroom after only one dance and thence had his way with the willing boy. No, Brian appeared to be enjoying the company of the younger man. The two were dancing and kissing and even *gasp* talking together and were now standing together at the bar enjoying drinks. Many observers noted, as they passed by the pair, that Kinney was holding the other man's hand - and not just in a follow me to the backroom kind of way, but in an almost intimate fashion.  

Exactly what the two were saying to each other was hard to determine since the conversation involved much whispering with mouths gently pressed against ears and was interrupted frequently by kissing, licking, nipping and other amorous interludes. However, the bartender told me later that, from what he could tell, Brian was trying to get the other man to remove his mask. The vision in white, though, was putting him off and maintaining that he wanted to keep the mask on, at least for now.  

After another spell on the dance floor, it looked like Brian was about to move things along to the, in his mind, inevitable conclusion in the backroom. However, the rather inexperienced Justin had been experiencing a minor inconvenience related to the aforementioned triple crown cockring and begged off briefly when Brian began to budge him towards the back. You see, all the bumping and grinding on the dance floor had created the expected result - the boy was so hard you could have used his dick in lieu of a crowbar. And the sweet little cock ring was adding to the experience, as it was designed to do.  

By this time, the poor boy was actually in just a bit of pain and he was sure his balls were already as blue as that ox he'd heard Brian had boffed. Not really sure what to do in this situation, and not wanting to come off as a complete idiot in front of Brian and the whole contingent of backroom bystanders, he figgered he better find me and get some quick advice before proceeding any further. So, he quietly advised his hopefully-soon-to-be-lover that he had to make a pit stop and that he would be right back.  

Justin's departure was watched not only by Brian, who was likewise rather hard and very eager to get this boy where he wanted him, namely the backroom, but also by two other men who had a much less amiable intent. Justin was doomed to failure in his quest to find me, however, because right at that moment I was a little tied up (literally) and not really available for Q&A sessions. So, Justin just wandered around looking for me for several minutes, without success, and was about ready to give up and return to Brian, pain in the dick or no pain in the dick, when the nefarious Ethan made his play.  

"Hey, Beautiful. Where are you headed?" was the greasy come on that oozed from the slimy lips as Ethan stepped out in front of Justin, effectively halting his progress.

Justin recognized Ethan immediately, of course, but didn't want to say anything because he was afraid of giving himself away, so he just shook his head and tried to move around the man obstructing his path. That was when Ian also showed up, his head appearing from behind the beleaguered blond and greasily winding his arms around Justin's waist.

"Don't run off so fast, Sweetheart,"  Ian drooled into Justin's ear. "We just want to get to know you a little better. Let's the three of us go get comfortable and you'll see just how much fun we can have." And with that the sleazy siblings dragged the struggling Justin off towards a secluded corner of the club, sneering all the way.

Chapter 11.

Brian was getting bored. Normally, Brian didn't do bored - he didn't have to. As he stood with his back against the edge of the bar he suddenly realized that he, Brian Fucking Kinney, was standing there, waiting around for this trick to come back and time was a wastin'. It had been ages since he'd had to wait for a trick to come to him. What the fuck was he doing? It had been at least ten minutes now, he'd finished his drink, and the twink hadn't yet come back. This had never happened to him - no twink had ever left him standing, waiting and not come back. This would NOT do.

Brian pushed away from the bar and started to move through the crowd, looking for the blond angel in white. He scanned the entire dance floor and looked above him along the stairways and catwalks, but there was no sign of the missing twink. He thought to himself that it shouldn't be hard to find the kid, nobody else here tonight was dressed in white - so where the fuck was he?  

By this point, Brian was thinking about maybe gettin' angry. But then, the memory of the soft, sweet lips of the blond angel came back to him and all he wanted to do was find the boy so he could nibble on those nummy lips again. He decided that, just this once, he wouldn't get angry, he would go after the boy and find him.  

And that's just what our hero did. First he got the attention of the nearest security guard and told him to be on the lookout for the missing blond. Then he rounded up a couple of his gym buddies, who both happened to be the muscle-bound, hunky type, and told them to come with him. Flanked by these back-up bruisers, Brian barged through the crowded dance floor, determined to locate his missing twink.  

They had been looking for about fifteen minutes - he'd been through the entire main room, dance floor, catwalks, bar areas and seating areas, the backroom, and both bathrooms - and still there was no sign of the beautiful blond in the white leathers. He was almost ready to give up when Hank, the head of security at Babylon, grabbed him by the elbow and shouted over the noise from the nearby speakers telling Brian to follow him.  

As they got farther away from the speakers and could finally talk, Hank informed Brian and his buddies that one of the other guards said he thought he'd seen the guy in white and a couple of little pissants heading over towards the stage. That area was supposed to be off-limits except to employees, so no one had thought to look there earlier. However, as the group began to climb the short stair up to the stage, they could hear raised voices coming from behind the curtains.  

Brian whipped around the curtain and immediately saw his twink being shoved against the rear wall of the stage by someone dressed like Zorro while a mealy-mouthed cowboy type stood nearby egging the caped-one on. Both black leather-clad buffoons were hissing at the blond boy, who was struggling to get free from the hands of the evil Zorro. But the cowboy had a firm grip on the angel's right wrist and began trying to twist it behind him while the Zorro guy was wrapping his greasy fingered fist around the boy's neck and pinning his left wrist against the wall.

It took Brian only four steps to reach the group. His large, strong hand descended onto Zorro's shoulder and spun the little man around to face him. Hank grabbed the cowboy, pulling the smaller man's arms around behind him and holding them immobile. Justin, freed so abruptly, momentarily lost his balance and began to topple, but Brian quickly slung his captive over to his big, butch buddies and scooped his blond angel into his arms before the boy could blink.  

"What the fuck is going on here?" Brian questioned the two captives.

"N-N-Nothing. We were just . . . getting to know each other," prevaricated the perverted Ethan, trying all the while to pry his arms from Hank's steele grip.  

"Bull shit! Getting to know someone doesn't usually involve choking and half-nelsons." Brian spat back at the chin-rat cowboy. "Are you okay?" he directed towards the pliant boy-toy in his arms.

"I'm fine. I just couldn't get away from these assholes. Please, let's just go," whispered Justin.  

Brian bent his head down to the coral pink lips of the blond and gently kissed him to reassure himself that the boy was truly okay. Then the man turned towards the two unapologetic abductors and a slow smirk spread over his face. He took a half step backwards so that the two gym giants behind him could be seen more prominently.  

"Well, boys. This particular gentleman," Brian said, indicating the angel in his arms, "is already spoken for this evening. However, since you're obviously a little lonely tonight, let me introduce you to my two buddies here. This is Master Slash and Master Clipper. They will be entertaining you for the rest of the night."

Brian said this with a malicious wink directed in his buddies' direction. Slash and Clipper grinned back at Brian and then turned their lustful looks towards the now cowering, courageless cretins. Slash reached down and began to eagerly finger the leather lash dangling from his belt while leering at the little cowhand with a hungry look in his eyes. Clipper, meanwhile, was already moving in on Zorro and his huge body was looming over the smaller man who appeared to be trying to melt into the wall behind him.  

"Take good care of these two for me tonight, fellas. I think they both look interested in learning a few lessons about the leather lifestyle. Have a good time with your dates, boys," Brian smirked as he turned and led Justin away from the unsavory scene. The faint snap of a leather lash could be heard echoing off the stage walls as Brian and Justin edged around the curtain and down the stage steps.

"Are you sure you're okay," Brian asked again as soon as they left the stage area.

"Yeah. I'm fine," was the faint reply.  

Brian could feel, though, that the body pressed against his was still trembling. He shook his head slightly with an almost tender smile on his full lips, then bent down and gently scooped up the smaller man into his arms.

"You're not fine. But, I can change that," Brian whispered into the shell-like ear of the intriguing blond, then began to climb the stairs to the club's upper level.  

When the brawny brunet reached the catwalk, rather than turn left to head out over the dance floor, he headed to the right and through a doorway into the club's darkened and empty office. Inside there was a large mission-style couch with comfortable, overstuffed, brown leather cushions, upon which Brian deposited the spooked youth. Justin curled up on the comfy couch, content to let the more courageous man care for him. Brian went over to a small refrigerator built into the cabinetry on the rear wall, and pulled out a bottle of water, which he solicitously brought back to the boy on the sofa. He then sat down next to the disquieted young man, wrapping his strong arms around Justin's shoulders and tracing calming patterns with his sensitive fingertips along the boy's arm and chest.  

Brian reached over and carefully pulled the mask off so he could gaze at the gorgeous countenance underneath. Justin tilted his chin upwards until his lips again met those of the man who had just saved him from certain discovery, and possibly worse, at the hands of his step-brothers. The boy then tentatively touched those tasty lips with the most tender of tiny kisses. The soft caresses swiftly turned more passionate as Brian pressed his mouth against Justin's in return. Soon both men were tasting, licking and sucking on the other's mouth, reveling in the taste and warmth of each other's willing lips. Presently, Justin felt Brian's questing tongue prodding more firmly and he freely opened to him, enjoying the new sensation and timidly returning each thrust back into the mouth of this alluring man, savoring the taste of peppermint and whisky he found there.

It had been so long since the poor orphaned boy had felt this cared for - not since his mother's death had anyone taken notice of him or touched him in such a tender fashion. Justin felt cherished and protected by this overwhelmingly virile man. The attentions of the older man emboldened the youth, who decided to dare a little more discovery, and dauntlessly dropped his hand down to undo the buttons on the silky black dress shirt Brian had donned for this evening, daring to slide the shirt off over the man's shoulders.  

The intrepid imp then boldly ran his slender fingers over the golden skin of Brian's chest and shoulders. The man's skin was so smooth and warm and soft. Justin bent his head down so that he could brush his lips lightly across the soft skin, breathing in the musky, salty-sweet aroma of this incredibly seductive man. Brian accommodated the youth's explorations by leaning his head back against the sofa cushions and arching his back upwards. When his lips softly skimmed across a sensitive nipple, the older man gasped slightly and Justin couldn't help opening his mouth further so that the tip of his tongue grazed over the nub. The moans coming from the brunet's lips encouraged Justin to continue his quest of discovery and his lips and tongue and hands continued to move lower.

Brian was trying desperately to keep from moving. The tender, tremulous kisses, light as a butterfly's wings fluttering against his skin, were torturing him. He wanted to seize this boy, throw him down on the couch and plow into him hard and fast and without letting up till they both exploded with passion. But, at the same time, he didn't want to rush this. He feared any movement on his part would ruin this unsurpassed erotic moment. Brian Kinney had lots of experience with hard and fast and mindless fucking - but he'd never experienced whatever this boy was doing. It was like the man was worshiping not just his body, but his soul (which, by the way, Brian did have, contrary to popular belief, but which he hadn't shown to anyone in far too long).

Now, our little Justin had already proven himself to be a quick study. In fact, he'd picked up most of the gang's advice about gay living quicker than a duck on a junebug. And, while he'd had little experience, personally, with the art of fellatio, he'd soaked up enough little tips in his few short visits to the environs of Liberty Avenue, that he figgered he wouldn't necessarily mind givin' it a try sometime. And, as his lips moved down the muscular chest and abs of Brian Kinney, he thought this might just be a prime opportunity to try out this tempting trick he'd heard tell of.  

So then, getting a firm grasp on his courage, Justin slipped his hand under the waistband of Kinney's black leather pants and worked his way down towards his goal. The uncertain explorations of this angelic creature were so erotic that they caused Brian's cock to practically jump up out of his pants. His dick was so eager to get into that soft, warm, virginal fist that it was moving all on its own, twitching and throbbing like a heat-seeking missile.  

The torment of trying to hold himself back was exquisite - Brian couldn't ever remember being this turned on before. His hands wanted to reach down and tear open his fly so that the younger man could just get on with it. His cock was in total agreement with that sentiment. However his brain, which was still marginally in control, kept telling him to hold back, enjoy the experience and wait to see what the boy would do.

The tyro rapidly discovered that those tight black leather pants didn't give him much maneuvering room, so he reached a tentative hand down to the button on the waistband and lifted his eyes up to regard Brian's face, seeking permission to continue. All he saw on the older man's face though was sheer lust, but since that didn't seem to indicate he should stop his ministrations, Justin grinned, returned his attention to his work and finished with the button and then the zipper. The enthusiastic cock inside, apparently possessed of a will of its own, leapt up to greet the boy as soon as it was released from the restraining pants.  

Justin gazed longingly down at that opulent organ whose fame had been bruited far and wide around not only the Liberty Avenue environs, but the entirety of gay PA.  It truly was magnificent, he thought. The cock that was now standing at attention before him surely had no equal in either beauty, size, girth or any other esthetic qualities. Plus, it felt as if there were some magnetic pull emanating from that delicious looking dick, drawing Justin's mouth down towards it, demanding that he discover all its delicate delineations. Surrendering to the sensual siren song of that oh-so-sensitive organ, Justin gladly plunged down and engulfed the wondrous thing, licking and tasting and sucking at it to his little heart's content.  

Brian was reveling in the rapture of this ravening, and while recognizing the relative lack of experience of the ravishing blond, he nonetheless realized the innate talent of the twink. The boy's natural abilities, combined with the erotic adoration he evinced towards the older man, made for one of the most fulfilling blowjobs Brian had ever experienced. Far too soon, Brian felt that special spark of warmth tingling through his balls and belly and igniting his nerve endings, sending pulses of exploding pleasure throughout his body. Justin, incredibly proud of his accomplishment, simply lapped up the salty cum like a kitten with a saucer of cream, then looked up at his lover with a sunshine bright smile.  

Brian moaned loudly, reached down and pulled the pliant youth up to him for a long and sensual kiss, tasting himself on the lips and tongue of this talented and tempting young man. He took a moment to recover, never ceasing to cover the boy's countenance with kiss after kiss. Finally, when his heartbeat had returned to normal, he began his own quest downward, eager to uncover the throbbing treasure he could feel bulging out from the white leather-covered crotch of this luscious lad. He could feel the boy's erection and he could tell that this boy's dick was so hard a cat couldn't scratch it (or so I was led to believe when I later heard the full story - I mean I don't have personal knowledge about these things, you know). Brian, by now, was more than ready to move on to the main attraction and, from the whimpers and moans coming from the beautiful angel, the boy was ready too.

*Knock, knock, knock,* The sound interrupted the intimately entwined couple at that very inopportune moment. And without waiting for permission to enter, the office door was pushed open and Hank craned his neck through the opening. Disregarding the state of undress of the occupants, Hank nodded toward Brian.

"Sorry to bother you, Boss. It's almost time to crown the King of the Ball so the emcee sent me to find you. They need you down on the stage right away, I was told," Hank informed.  

"Shit! Could their timing BE more shitty?" Brian complained. "Tell them I'm on my way, Hank."

Brian gently untangled himself from the limbs of the lad on the couch and stood up to tuck himself away. Then he reached down to help his charming companion up as well, assisting the young man in straightening his own clothing.

"I'm so sorry, beautiful. I have to be present for the award ceremony. Please, come with me and, hopefully, we can continue this afterward," Kinney crooned to the comely lad. Justin just smiled up at the man he now adored more than anything else in his life. His eyes said clearly that he would go anywhere with this man, so his lips didn't even need to comment.

Brian grasped the younger man's hand and led him out the door and down the stairs towards the stage at the edge of the dance floor. As they neared the podium where the announcer was standing, the host for the evening picked up his microphone in order to get the next stage of the festivities underway.

"Gentlemen. May I have your attention, Please. I hope you all got your ballots in on time, because it's almost midnight and that means it's time to crown this year's King of the Ball!" The crowd of nearly-naked nubile men roared their enthusiasm and all eyes turned towards the stage.  

All eyes except the two brilliant blue eyes currently peering through a white leather mask worn by a breathtaking blond beauty. Those two eyes looked down at the wrist of the man who was holding his hand and noted by the watch there that it was less than 30 seconds till midnight. The blond suddenly remembered that his ride was leaving at exactly midnight and he had promised not to be late.  

"Shit!" Justin spat out, completely ignoring whatever it was that the emcee was saying. "Brian, I'm so sorry, but I have to go," he added, then quickly rose to his tiptoes, planted one last kiss on the beautiful cranberry lips, dashed down the steps and deftly scuttled through the bodies on the dance floor heading for the exit.

"Wait," yelled Brian, who had been taken completely by surprise at the boy's actions and hadn't been able to react in time to stop the youth's retreat.

"I'm honored to present to you this year's King of the Leather Ball, for the fifth year running, Brian Kinney," the announcer blared out to the applause of the ecstatic throngs of men surrounding the stage. The emcee proceeded to pull the distracted Kinney towards the center of the stage, depositing the sparkling, bejeweled crown atop the man's head and draping a large leather cape edged with faux ermine fur over the man's shoulders. Brian meanwhile was still reaching out in the direction that Justin had fled and staring dejectedly at the disappearing form in white.

The angel in white was concurrently racing for the exit as fast as he could maneuver through the obstacle course of bodies which were all heading in the opposite direction, intent on getting to the stage or dance floor or bars. Justin was constantly buffeted and knocked to the side but kept on driving forward as best he could, determined to get to the door to meet Emmett and his ride home. Unfortunately, right as he was nearing the entryway, a large bear of a man, who had obviously had more than a few drinks already this night, came careening around the corner and crashed right into the charging youth. Slender, slight Justin stood no chance against the solid bulk of the strong man and was straightaway slammed into the sill surrounding the doorway.  

There was a crunching noise as the poor boy hit the post, along with a groan from the battered boy himself. The drunken dummy who had been the direct cause of this debacle, reached out to steady Justin, currently crumpled up due to the impact of his crotch with the post, so at least the boy didn't drop to the floor. However, as the meathead manhandled the boy back into a more or less standing position, he managed to scrape the boy's hip across a metal hook that had been snapped off by the impact when Justin hit the sill. The jagged metal caught in the creamy soft leather and as the drunk tugged at the lad, struggling to get the boy standing, the leather rent leaving a large gash in the pants from the boy's hip clear to his groin.  

Justin, still in a dither over every delay, didn't stop to worry about his dress, he merely darted forward, out the door and disappeared down the block.

Justin and I sat together in the brilliant early morning sunlight streaming through the bay windows of the breakfast nook. The boy was staring dejectedly at the remaining half of his once beautiful triple crown cock ring which was resting on the placemat on the table in front of him. The glass was cracked and at least one of the loops was completely gone, but it was still in a mostly recognizable shape.

"God, Em. I'm so sorry that I broke it. I know it was an expensive gift. If only that fucker hadn't knocked me against the door," Justin repeated for about the fifth time since I'd arrived at his home this morning.  

"Justin, sweetie, please stop. It's okay. Really. I'm just glad it didn't shatter into a thousand pieces slicing your scrumptious dick off in the process. And from what I've heard, I'd guess there's someone else out there equally interested in that dear dick, who would have been similarly devastated if it had been been damaged." I had already spoken to some of my tightest gossip buddies this morning and got the whole dish on what Justin and Brian had been up to last night while I was otherwise tied up . . . er . . . I mean, engaged. "From what I heard, honey, you must have had quite the Ball experience. And everyone does say Brian's balls are nice . . ."

Justin blushed. It was just so adorable and so innocent and so cute. Not to mention, he was hotter than a billy goat with a blowtorch!  

"Come on, child. I want to hear all about it," I prompted. Justin required no further persuasion. He was instantly babbling like a spring brook, telling me EVERYTHING about last night. Somebody really needs to explain the concept of TMI to the boy - but since I loved hearing all the juicy details, it certainly wouldn't be me, honey. I sat back and thoroughly enjoyed listening while the excited blond told me the whole tale.  

"It sounds to me like our boy Brian has it bad for you, baby!" I commented when Justin had finally run out of either things to tell or breath, I wasn't sure which. "Are you going to see each other again? "

"I . . . don't know. We didn't really talk much. Our mouths were pretty much always kinda busy," he said shyly, smiling at the sumptuous scenes in his memory. "In fact, I don't think I ever even told him my name, now that I think about it. And, except when we were in that dark office, I kept my mask on the whole time - especially after I knew Ethan and Ian were there - I didn't want anyone to know it was me. So I doubt Brian would even recognize me if he saw me."

"Well, that's an easy problem to solve," I asserted, digging into my bag for my cell. "I'll just call him up and tell him right where to find his missing Prince."

"Please, Em, no!" Justin grabbed at my hand, wrestling the cell phone away.

"Why the hell not?"

"Brian Kinney wouldn't want me. If he knew who I really was, I mean. I'm just some nobody kid - he's rich, successful, famous all over the land, and he can have any man he wants. What the fuck would he want with me?"

"Well, darling, since you are just about the hottest piece of ass I've ever seen, I can think of at least one thing he might want with you," I started to joke, but then noticed that the boy was serious.

"Please. Don't tell him, Em. Really. I'd rather just remember the one fantastic night we had together. I don't think I could take it if you told him who I was and then he rejected me. Please, promise me you won't tell him who I am."

Justin did have a point, I conceded. Brian Kinney did have a reputation for kicking ‘em to the curb once he was done with someone. I looked over again at the sweet, sensitive, sublime young man sitting in the sunlight, sincerely staring at me, and I saw that I couldn't serve him up to the lion like that. ‘Kinney doesn't know what he's missing in this boy,' I thought, but I agreed with Justin that it was probably for the best that we keep mum.  

"Okay, I won't tell him," I reluctantly agreed, but not without some misgivings.  

You see, the other thing I'd heard about last night, which I hadn't yet told the boy, was that after Justin's hasty departure Brian Kinney had just about gone nuts. Or at least that was what the gossip mongers on the Avenue were saying. The rumor I heard was that Brian had virtually leapt off the stage, trailing his Kingly cape and trying to work his way towards the door. However, his hounding, howling fans couldn't keep their hands off his royal handsomeness and hindered him from following that hotstuff honey he'd been holding.  

Big Hairy Al told me that he'd seen Brian yelling at the door security about letting the boy get away and was demanding that he be found. Anyway, apparently the whole King of the Ball ceremony had been completely disrupted and Brian had refused to name a Prince for the night - which meant that the traditional BDSM demo was cancelled and lots of leather daddies left completely let down by the lousy ending. The whole evening went to hell in a handbasket after that.

But if Justin wanted me to keep his little secret I would. So, I leaned over and gave the little whippersnapper a quick kiss on the cheek, gathered my belongings together and started for the door. I was due at Debbie's for Sunday Brunch and still had to get to Teddy's to pick him up.  

Justin was seeing me off and had just opened the front door, when we were both struck dumbfounded by the most amazing sight either of us had ever seen: A posse of the biggest, loudest, shiniest, black and chrome-covered motorcycles was screaming up Justin's serene suburban street and screeching to a stop right in front of the silent Nellah-Taylor residence.  

The hurly-burly instantly got the attention of Credulous Craig and Bemused Brenda, who came rushing out of their room, intent on finding out the source of such unholy noise. Many of the neighbors from the surrounding houses were also issuing forth from their residences, curious about what exactly the Taylors were up to now. In fact, there were more folks standing outside on this normally silent suburban street on this very early, sunny morning than you would normally see in a month of Sundays, since this was the most outrageous thing anyone in the hoity-toity burbs had ever imagined.  

Once the twenty or so Harley Hogs had come to a halt and their engines hushed to a hum, two humongous, hard-bodied hooligans dismounted and handily hauled two smaller hunched-up humans off the hogs, setting them down on the sidewalk where they lay like small humid humps. Justin and I edged a bit closer to the group, eyeing the heaving burdens on the ground. When we were only about twenty yards away, one of the big bruisers looked up, noticed my fabulous self and smiled up at me while raising his hand in a friendly salute.

"Hey, Em! How's it going?" the big guy greeted me. That's when I recognized him as my sometime-spotter from the gym, Bruce.

"Oh! Hey, Bruce. What in the name of all that's queer are you guys doing in the burbs?" I couldn't help but ask, venturing closer and noting at the same time that the other hovering hulk was Trevor, also a gym buddy.  

"Just came to drop off our dates from last night," snickered Trevor, indicating the shivering, sniveling unfortunates still sitting on the sidewalk. "Boy, get up!" Trevor demanded, pulling rather roughly on a leash attached to the collar of one of the young men lying at his feet.  

A very faint, "Yes, Master Slash," was heard as the boy in question rose to his feet.

A collective gasp was heard round the neighborhood as everyone finally got a good glimpse of the object of Master Slash's, I mean Trevor's, attention - It was Ethan, no longer dressed in his cowboy costume, but attired instead in a lovely, and very little, black leather jock strap, leather wristbands and a spiked leather collar. The no-longer-boastful-boy, was standing very submissively at Slash's side, with his head bent and eyes cast down, waiting for his Master's next command. Behind me I heard a quickly stifled whimper and turned to see Craig shushing his soon-to-be-bride and trying to hasten her into the house.

"You too, Mousie," ordered Bruce, leaning over to assist the other slave up. And, as you probably already guessed, the other cowering pile of fear on the sidewalk was none other than dear, dreadful Ian, now known as ‘Mousie'. Mousie was still wearing the black leather pants from his Zorro costume but had lost his shirt, mask, cape and hat, and was instead sporting leather wrist restraints which held his hands together behind his back and which were then tied to a thong attached to Bruce's belt.  

Bruce appeared to be quite taken with his new boy. He wasn't nearly as forceful with Mousie as Trevor had been with Ethan. "That's a good little Mousie-boy," Bruce said as he gently stroked the twin's hair. Ian was looking up at his Master with an almost adoring look in his eyes. "Yes, Master Clipper.  I'll be good. I promise," came the eager reply from little Mousie. Justin and I couldn't help but look at each other in amazement and then we both broke out laughing at this submissive spectacle.

Without further ado, Clipper and Slash removed the restraints from their slave-boys and moved back towards their bikes. "We'll be back tonight for you two boys. Be ready at six-thirty - both of you," directed Slash/Trevor. "And don't forget that if you aren't ready on time, you WILL be punished, Pumpkin" he added with an obvious wink in Ethan's direction. I was, by this time, standing close enough to little ‘Pumpkin' to see a momentary glint of pleasure light up those otherwise dull brown eyes, before he nodded to Master Slash and returned to his submissive stance. Then the engines of the hogs roared again, and the troop was off with a wave, heading back to the more comfortable environs of Liberty Avenue.  

As soon as the coast was clear, an earsplitting wail was heard as the front door was thrown open and Bungling Brenda burst onto the scene, crying her eyes out - whether at the terrible treatment of her twins or at her own tormenting embarrassment, it was tough to tell. She proceeded to bundle up the still cowering boys in blankets and rushed them back towards the front door and then into the house, safely away from the astonished and amused eyes of the crowd of neighbors.  

After I'd stopped laughing enough to say goodbye to Justin, I gave him a quick peck on the cheek and jumped into my van, off to my brunch with a brain-full of amusing stories to relay to the gang at Debbie's.

*************************

An hour later, sitting around the always crowded but always homey kitchen table in Debbie's kitschy cottage, I was just getting started on the titillating tale of the tethered twink twins, when Brian Kinney, himself, entered and sat next to me. Not letting this fashionably late appearance interrupt my entertaining tale, I trudged on, turning all those gathered into tittering, tickled, laughing balls of amusement. Brian was even smiling a little at the retelling of the twin's not-so-triumphant return to burb-dom.  

"I'm glad to see the guys enjoyed the dates I set them up with last night," Brian smirked. "Not that those two boys deserved to enjoy themselves after what I caught them doing."  

Brian went on to fill in the rest of the story about how he'd found the Nellah twins messing with his ‘angel' at the Ball the night before. This of course led to Brian relating his take on everything else that had happened. I could hear from his tone that the otherwise un-rattle-able Kinney was still upset at the loss of his ‘Vision in White'. His eloquence alone, when he would normally be terse and snide at these brunch affairs, told me just how upset the man really was. But I had to just sit there, guiltily, listening to him go on and on about the wonderful, beautiful boy he'd met and then lost. I wouldn't break my promise to the little lost boy.

Everyone else around the table offered endless suggestions on how to find the lad. Brian finally admitted, though, that he hadn't gotten the boy's name, let alone his address, and that he really hadn't gotten a good enough look at him in the darkened office to even give a full description of the boy to an investigator. The poor brunet looked thoroughly dejected and depressed as he detailed his useless detective efforts to date. Apparently, he'd interviewed everyone who was there and nobody knew who the white-clad winsome youth was.  

"All I have, really, is this," Brian said, pulling a broken piece of hand-blown glass with a streak of blue at its core out of his jacket pocket. "I don't really know what it is, but someone said they saw this fall out of the man's clothing as he left the club last night. I don't have a clue how this will help me ID him, though." And with that crestfallen conclusion, the Stud finally fell silent, hastily pulling his ‘indifferent' mask back on to hide how much he truly longed for the lost youth.

Now, I ask you, how could any self-respecting Fairy Godperson leave matters like this? I had two lonely, lovestruck men, each lost without the other, one looking desperately for his love and the other lost in low-spirited lamenting of what could have been. Somehow, I had to get these two back together again, without breaking my promise to Justin, and without letting Brian know that I could tell just how much he cared about this unknown little twink.

Chapter 13.

By then it was only five days till the Nellah-Taylor wedding and I still hadn't come up with a good plan on how to get the two lovebirds together. I hadn't realized how hard this Fairy Godperson gig was gonna be when I took on the job. But then again, how could I know that both my charges were going to be so stubborn and blind and just plain idiotic. I mean, just how clueless can you be, guys? I'd already tried a couple of times to get the two of them together, but one thing or another always messed things up. Maybe these two didn't really belong together after all? Anyways, by this point I was as confused as a blind lesbian in a fish market.

My first matchmaking attempt had occurred the Wednesday after the Ball. I had managed to finagle an excuse for Justin to get out of the house so he could join me for dinner at the Diner. The boy had once again shown up in his familiar, faded, fashionless facade complete with the fearful glasses and feature-hiding clothing. When I asked him why he wasn't wearing his contacts, again, he simply shrugged and mumbled about not wanting to lose them. Argh - What does a fashion savvy Godperson have to do to get this boy to flaunt his assets a little?  

The timid tad then hid himself in the far corner of the booth and barricaded himself in with a bevy of beverage glasses, condiments and menus until all you could see of the boy was the tip top of his tousled blond mop. When the gang showed up, everyone virtually ignored the little lump in the corner, including Brian. I didn't blame him though - as far as anyone could see, there was nothing to connect this shy mousey wallflower to the gorgeous, outgoing and shining star that had captured everyone's attention at the Ball.  It didn't help at all that Justin barely said a word during the entire meal. ‘Strike one,' I thought.  

On Friday, I convinced Justin to join the gang at Woody's again. I even persuaded him to ‘borrow' back some of the clubbing clothes Ian had taken from him - this wasn't much of a problem now that Ian's time was taken up, almost exclusively, with his new friend Master Clipper. However, although the boy was attired in the right clothes this time, he was still wearing those egregious eyeglasses. It seemed to me that putting on those specs sapped all his self-confidence right out of him - it wasn't only that he looked different with them on, but, when he wore the glasses, he seemed to actually become a shy, shapeless, un-hot, bookworm kind of boy. I knew the super-hot twink was in there somewhere, but it was going to be tough to get him to acknowledge his own hotness.

As expected, when Brian arrived that night at Woody's, already in pursuit of a tall, dark-haired, green-eyed adonis, he took no notice whatsoever of the retiring recluse on the farthest bar stool, studiously studying the bottom of his beer bottle. When I tried to get the little goofball to dance, he turned me down and continued to sit at the bar, slowly sinking deeper into depression. And Brian went on his oblivious way, taking his tricks to the backroom then tossing them out as fast as he could get off. ‘Strike two', rang in my head.

I tried talking to the man a few days later, to see if he was still interested in the disappearing blond. In true Kinney-esque fashion, though, he was already trying to hide the fact that he'd ever cared about the lost lad at all. His reaction made me madder than a bobcat caught in a piss fire. If the silly sot would just see how stupid it was to shroud all his feelings with senseless denials, someone might sense a way through all the shit he kept slinging. If you asked me, poor, pure-hearted Justin was just the person to do it, but it would never happen if Brian wouldn't let anyone in.  

By this time, what with the wedding so near, I was busier than a one-armed monkey with two peckers. So, I'd decided to put aside my Justin and Brian dilemma for a time and concentrate on the job at hand - namely getting Brenda the Bitch married to Craig the Cretin and off my back. I guess I shouldn't be so hard on the old girl - she really had had a hard time ever since the ‘outing' of her two adored offspring. She was insistent that this wedding had to be just perfect in order to reestablish her neighbors' and friends' respect. Unfortunately, that was making Brenda even bitchier than normal.  

So, that's what was doing on the Tuesday before the wedding, when I got a frantic call from the here-comes-the-wide-bride, babbling about how the bridesmaids shoes hadn't been dyed correctly and didn't match their dresses. I was already knee deep in hors d'oeuvres at the time and was trying to tell the shrew that I just couldn't drop everything right this minute to drive over to her house to see to the shocking shoe situation.  

By some weird coincidence, Brian happened to be standing in my shop just when this call came in (he'd actually been there to talk about my planning the Kinnetik Anniversary party), and since I'd put the call on speaker phone, he'd heard the entire conversation and was laughing his head off by the time I hung up. Either Brian had recently suffered some undisclosed head trauma or else he was just looking for more fodder for his portfolio of hetero jokes, but to my utter surprise, the man actually offered to drive over to the Nellah-Taylor residence and pick up the offensive shoes for me so I could deal with the dyers in the morning. I gratefully accepted this unheard of offer and sent him off forthwith.

That's when Lady Fortune finally made her appearance in this farce. Guess who just happened to answer the door when Brian arrived to get the screwed-up shoes - you're right, of course, it was our beautiful boy, the soon-to-be Justin Nellah-Taylor. And taken completely unaware, the surprised schoolboy wasn't able to hide behind his beer or a menu or anything else this time. He had come face-to-face with his fantastic, full-blown fantasy man right there in his family's home!

"Hey! You're Honeycutt's friend, uhh . . . Jake, right?" the not-completely-unobservant Kinney commented.

"Justin," the boy corrected in his most timid voice.

"Right, Justin. Well, Justin, I just came by to pick up some shoes for Emmett," Brian continued in his usual assertive manner. "Are they ready?"

"I . . . I . . . I don't know," stammered the super-shy little shaver. "Ummm . . . Come in, please. I'll . . . uh . . . find Brenda and find out for you." Justin ushered the sexy stud into the sitting room, smiling sillily and almost stumbling as he tried to walk backwards so he could stare at the man all the while. "Um . . . You can have a seat while I figure out what's going on . . . If you like."

"Thanks," Brian said, smiling at the stuttering, unsure, shrinking-violet, sidling out the door. ‘He's kinda sweet', he thought, then immediately tried to wipe the silly, lesbionic sentiment out of his mind.

Several minutes later, the boy still hadn't returned and Brian was starting to get a tad annoyed. Finally, though, a large laundry basket full of shoes came barrelling through the doorway, completely obscuring the identity of the force carrying the load. The basket began to totter and tilt as the person carrying it almost tripped over the table in the center of the tiled floor, but Brian quickly steadied it and tried to take it out of the hands carrying it.  

"Let me," Brian offered.

"No. I've got it," the voice behind the basket replied.

"No, you don't," Brian said trying to hold on to the hamper heaped with heels.  

However, when he pulled the basket towards himself, Brian completely unbalanced the boy behind the basket and the whole shebang tumbled into the man's lap, knocking him back into the waiting couch behind him. The two men landed in a jumble, covered in women's shoes, staring into each other's eyes in just a bit of shock. Then, a small smile turned up the corners of Justin's lovely lips and a tiny chuckle escaped. The laughter was instantly contagious and Brian found himself laughing along with the boy, their chortling escalating as they both realized the ridiculousness of their situation.  

As the laughter died down, Brian caught himself looking at the young man next to him - really looking at him for the first time. He thought he saw . . . something. This boy reminded him of someone, but he just couldn't put his finger on it right away. The tension-relieving laughter had already broken the ice between the two, however, and Brian felt no qualms in sliding his arm around the boy's slender waist as they sat up and started gathering in the scattered shoes. Justin couldn't help himself, he felt the familiar, strong arm encircling him and just had to lean into the embrace - he wanted desperately to turn to Brian, reach up to those tantalizing, talented lips and taste them once again. As he hesitated, though, the evil stepmother bustled into the room, interrupting what could have been a very intimate moment.

"Justin. What the hell are you doing? Get those shoes picked up and get going. I need those shoes delivered to Mr. Honeycutt immediately. Can't you see how incredibly busy I am and how stressed this makes me. Having you just lying around, wasting time is completely unforgivable. Get going you lazy little fairy!" Brenda was ranting and raving with small spots of spittle spurting from her lips, unaware of the anger her words were igniting in the older man sitting on the couch next to her soon-to-be-step-son.  

"It wasn't Justin's fault, Lady. I accidentally knocked him off balance. And I don't appreciate your language, either . . ."  Brian was going to continue, never one to stand for insults from the horde of homophobic heteros. However, Justin reached up and tugged at Brian's sleeve and shook his head slightly when he at last caught the man's eye. Brian reluctantly cut his angry diatribe short but didn't remove his angry gaze from the disconcerted hetero housewife now standing speechless in her own home.  

Justin rapidly moved to retrieve the remaining footwear and return them all to their designated receptacle. Brian then picked up the basket without further comment to the blustering Brenda and began to head for the door.

"Justin, you coming?" Brian asked over his shoulder as he neared the exit.  

Justin looked over at the red-faced harridan fuming at his imagined insolence. Then he looked over to Brian, pausing in the doorway as he smiled at the stymied boy. And with a sunshine-y smile, he headed toward the man he adored.

"Where do you think you're going, young man," Brenda was howling. To her utter disbelief, neither man was paying her any attention as they strutted down the driveway, deposited the shoes in the trunk of Brian's corvette, and got in the car together.  

"Well, that was fun," Brian commented, looking at Justin and both men began to laugh again.  

They spent the rest of the drive to my shop laughing and talking and generally enjoying each other's company. When the two of them walked into my shop, carrying a load of lousy loafers, I couldn't believe my eyes.  

"Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit," I exclaimed. "What have we got here?"

"I had to rescue Justin from his homophobic step-mother. She's quite the piece of work, isn't she?" was Brian's not-so-favorable reaction to the politeness-challenged Brenda.  

"Well, I can't disagree with you on that account," I concurred.

"Anyway, here's the shoes you wanted, Em," Brian added. He then turned to Justin. "Sorry if I fucked things up for you at home. I just . . . I couldn't handle seeing her treat you that way. It reminded me of my Dad - not a good memory, by the way. Sorry, though, if it'll cause you problems."

"No. I should thank you," Justin asserted bravely and the look of adoration in his eyes when he regarded Brian was plain to see. "Nobody's stood up for me like that in a long time. It was . . . really nice. Thanks."   

"Anytime, kid. So, I'm off Honeycutt. See you later!" Brian started to move towards the door.

Ack! I knew I'd never have another chance like this and I just couldn't let the man leave without doing something to get these two star-crossed lovers together. I hadn't had time to think of anything though, so I just spouted the first thing that came to my mind.

"Wait. Brian . . . uh . . . I'm really too busy to take Justin back home, right now. And, uh . . .  well . . . if Brenda's as angry as I think, it's probably a good idea to let her cool down before you head back anyway, Justin. Would you mind, Brian, taking Justin over to the Diner and getting him something to eat, or something, while I finish up here? I'll meet you guys there or at Woody's later, as soon as I can." ‘Please, please, please, let this work,' I was thinking with all my fingers and toes crossed.

I saw, to my relief, Brian look over at the boy, smiling at him, and then he turned back to me and nodded. "No problem. Come on, Justin. Later, Em." And the two of them headed out the door, Justin shooting back a somewhat worried glare in my direction as he left.

So, am I brilliant or what? I knew that if I just left the two of them alone, those boys would come together like two magnets. I mean, Darling, Justin was just hotter than donut grease at a fat man convention - you just had to get past those dowdy glasses and frumpy clothes. And Brian, well, he was finer than a frog hair split eight ways. The two of them together would just be hotter than the hinges in hell. And from the way they'd been lookin' at each other when they walked in here, I knew they were halfway towards hookin' up already. My plan was to just lay low and let them get under each other's skin for as long as possible. Then I could swoop in, close the deal and send them off to happily-ever-after.

Chapter 14.

After Brian and Justin left, let me tell you, I was more nervous than a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.  I figgered I was likely running out of time to get them two hitched up.  I'd had this bad feeling for the last couple of weeks after talking to Brenda the Breeder - ever since the incident with Ethan and Ian and their new homeboys, Brenda had been convinced that Justin was a ‘bad influence'.  Apparently the fact that both her boys were queerer than a three dollar bill had escaped her attention until Justin came along.  Now, though, she was blaming everything on ‘Jenn's little fairy boy' and I feared that after the wedding things might go badly for the boy.  So, I was practically desperate to find out if this thing, whatever it was, between Brian and Justin, would amount to anything before something irremediable happened to the young man.

I just was too worried about what was happening to stay at the shop after they left, so I shoved the salad rolls I'd been working on into the fridge and snuck over to the Diner to check up on my Fairy Magic.  I managed to sneak in the back way, thanks to Debbie, and hid in the kitchen, peeking out through the order window at the couple sitting in the middle booth.  So far, everything looked just peachy - Brian and Justin were sitting across from each other in the booth, Justin digging into what looked like enough food to feed half the homos at Babylon, while Brian toyed with a small side salad.  Both boys were smiling and talking and seemingly getting along just fine.  Debbie came over to try to discover what I was up to, but I just shooed her away and kept my eyes on the prize.

After twenty minutes or so, Brian pulled out his wallet and threw down some bills on the table and the two rose and headed towards the exit.  I waited a few minutes then followed as surreptitiously as a tall, flaming, gay man wearing chartreuse leather pants possibly could.  As expected, the duo went directly to Woody's, and I again slipped in the back - although I didn't really know why I was being so sneaky at this point, as the two men seemed completely caught up in each other and had no attention to spare for the rest of the Avenue.  

Once at Woody's the pair parked themselves in a particularly cosy booth at the back and continued their chummy conversation.  I managed to install my not-so-inconspicuous-self at a table two down from them, close enough that I could hear some of their conversation without (hopefully) being spotted.  And I was simply and utterly amazed at what I heard once I sat down - Brian Kinney, the man who had no heart, was telling this nobody boy-toy about his childhood.  

Now, I had been acquainted with Mr. Kinney for more than five years at that point and I'd only heard snippets about the sorry childhood of the Stud-who-would-be-King.  We'd all got the impression that Brian's life had been pretty hard as a boy, but he'd NEVER opened up and told anybody (well, except maybe for Mikey, a little bit) more than a word or two about his sorry situation.  And, here he was, baring his soul to this insignificant little imp of a boy.  How this know-nothing neophyte got through that impenetrable wall of Kinney's - a wall sealed up so well it was tighter than a skeeter's ass in a nose dive - nobody would probably ever know.  But, truth be told, he'd done it and I was so proud of him my chest puffed up just like a horny toad on a dry log.

I sat there in awe, listening as best I could to the conversation two booths away until the couple impetuously got up and moved towards the back of the bar where the jukebox was located.  I just knew that this was it - I could feel it in my Fairy Godperson bones that THE moment was upon us.  I watched as Brian led the beautiful blond boy over to the area in front of the jukebox and pulled him into his arms, bending his legs slightly to even out their heights.  The beautiful duo swayed together to the music for a while, chatting intermittently, but, to my complete consternation, NOT kissing.  

Looking around posthaste, I grabbed the first likely looking dance partner to come my way and pulled him over till we were right next to the target twosome. I thought it a particularly good sign that neither Justin nor Brian noticed me approaching.  Biding my time, I danced along with my partner of the moment and waited for the perfect opportunity to surprise the spellbound duo.  

When the music abruptly changed to a more upbeat rhythm, I pulled out my signature move: The ‘arms-in-the-air, hips-out-to-there, swing and swoop' - conveniently swooping right into Justin behind me and knocking the poor boy off balance so forcefully that he toppled to the floor.  (My hips have been classified as ‘dangerous weapons' under the terms of the Geneva Convention, you know). The unsuspecting youth was unceremoniously upended and utterly undone by the unconventional move.  Justin dropped to the floor like a lead balloon and the resulting bump caused the offensive, oppressive and obstructive ocular-wear, to drop off the obviously overwhelmed and formerly outcast youth, removing the outward traces of the ostracized young man and revealing the outstanding blue-as-the-sky orbs of the now obviously amazing young man.  

Brian instinctively reached down to aid his dance partner, but as he raised the young man to eye level, he finally realized where he'd seen those eyes before. It was his angel in white.  God, how could he have missed it before?  This boy, hidden behind the baggy jeans and bottle lenses, was the beautiful boy he'd been lusting after for weeks now, ever since the Ball.

"Justin!"  Brian whispered, suddenly aware of how close the youth was to him, but nonetheless attempting to pull him in even tighter to his body.   "It's you!"

"Brian,"  the boy responded, realizing that he'd been recognized at last and not exactly regretting the fact.  "I should have told you. . . ."

"Shhh."  Brian ran his index finger across Justin's full lips, preventing him from saying anything further.  

With the corners of his mouth turning up slightly into the beginnings of a smile, Justin tilted his chin upwards at the same moment that Brian's face bent down. The crushed-cranberry lips of the sensual brunet hesitated millimeters away from the soft coral pink lips of the younger man for a heartbeat, then without perceptible movement on either man's part, their mouths met in a delicate, barely-there kiss.  Slightly pulling away, Brian brushed his lips back and forth across the other's man's lips as if to reassure himself that they were really there. Then Brian smiled back at the beautiful blond and dove in for a second, more passionate kiss.

The area around the embracing couple had become completely silent as the usual Woody's crowd stared in disbelief at the image of Brian Kinney and the Blond Twink making out, completely oblivious to their surroundings.  You see, pretty much everyone who'd spent any time at all on Liberty Avenue was more than familiar with the sight of King Kinney fucking, ramming, and plowing an endless stream of hotties - public sex was sorta Brian's trademark.  In fact, Kinney's favorite spot against the wall in the backroom of Babylon actually had a small plaque above it reading, "Reserved for Kinney, All Hours".  Nobody would have thought it at all out of character if the King had decided to just throw this boy down on the floor of the bar and take him right here.  But Brian's current behavior had the regulars flummoxed.  In the collective memory of the entire assembled throng, not one of them could ever remember Kinney tenderly kissing, fondling and caressing someone like he was doing now.

Personally, I was thrilled - this time it looked like a home run for the Fairy Godperson!  I went to work shooing off the ogling bystanders so the happy couple wouldn't be disturbed.  After I'd managed to clear out most of the area between the jukebox and the booths, I waited for five or ten minutes, hoping the pair would come up for air.   

Maybe those boys had discovered how to breathe through osmosis or something, though, because they still looked like they were permanently joined at the lips.  I finally determined that I was going to have to break this up, at least till I could get them off to a more private location, and mostly since I myself had become so aroused from watching them all this time that I was sure my woody could have been used to hammer nails into wood.  So, as gently as I could, I pried their bodies apart, gripping each man by the wrist and towing the dazed looking pair back to their booth, depositing the two side by side on the vinyl covered seat.

"Well, aren't you two going to say anything," I prodded when the love struck pair simply sat staring into each other's eyes, their fingers entwined, without speaking for long enough to make me feel awkward.

Brian blinked, as if just now realizing that there were other people in the world other than Justin, and turned towards me looking confused and maybe a tad annoyed.

"Honeycutt, start talking," Brian ordered, and I knew the jig was up - I was gonna have to confess.  

And so I did, telling Brian all about how I'd been helping Justin for weeks now and my part in the whole Ball debacle, although he stopped me tactfully when I started to get sidetracked relating the fun times Dom & I had been having, which had caused me to lose track of Justin for that time.  The more I talked, the more Justin seemed to blush, and damn if those rosy flushed cheeks didn't make the boy even more adorable.  Brian's gaze seemed locked on the youth's face through my entire story, a mischievous smile adorning that normally solemn face, while his hands, whenever they weren't clasped together with Justin's, were constantly tracing small patterns across the blond's arms and neck.

"So, we have you to blame for all of this, Honeycutt?"  Brian asked, and from the way he spoke I couldn't tell if he was angry or happy with my exploits.

"Well, yes," was my hesitant response, while I waited to see what Brian was going to do.

"And what about this?"

Brian reached into the pocket of his brown suede jacket that had been resting on the seat beside him and pulled out a small object which he set on the table. Justin blushed even redder and motioned to me to hand him his jacket, which was on my side of the booth.  The beautiful blushing boy then pulled out the other half of the broken glass cockring and laid it on the table as well, pushing the two broken glass shards together until the shattered ends met up almost seamlessly.  

Brian broke out laughing, rather boisterously I thought, as soon as he saw exactly what the object in front of him was.  "A crystal cockring - nice," the laughing man added while smiling down at the man now firmly encircled by his arms.  "Much better than a glass slipper, for my sweet prince.  And Justin, I'm so glad to find out that you enjoy playing with toys, because I have a whole drawer full at home I'm eager to introduce you to."  

"I can't wait," was the soft reply from the youth beside him.  

"Well, I can see my job here is nearly done,"  I interjected before they could start sucking face again.  "Just one more little bit of Fairy Magic, and I'll be on my way."

So saying, I delved into my bag and pulled out Justin's gross old glasses, which I'd retrieved earlier from the dance floor, and carefully placed them on the floor next to our table.  Then I picked up the Cosmo I'd been drinking and sauntered around to stand on the other side of the ludicrous lenses facing the boys still in the booth.  

"Since I'm fresh outta Fairy Dust, this will have to suffice," I explained as I dunked my fingers into my drink and sprinkled the Cosmo droplets onto the glasses below.  Then I waved my arms over my head in my best imitation of a magical spellcaster and yelled, "Bippity, Boppity, Bye-bye!"  And with the last ‘bye', I lifted up my gorgeous gucci loafer and brought it down forcefully on the detested eyewear, smashing the lenses to pieces and breaking the frames.  

"There, now you can't ever transform back into that boring little bookworm boy. It's just like Magic!" I exclaimed.  "You will now forever be the yummy youth we see before us.  I forbid you to ever wear those or any other horrible glasses ever again - and you don't want to run the risk of raising my wrath so you better behave.  Now, I'll just flutter off like a good fairy and leave you two to get back to the good stuff." And I did just that, skipping off toward the far end of the bar where I'd spied a particularly butch looking macho-type who looked like he was in the market for a nice nellie bottom boy for the evening (I was in the mood for a bit of magic myself).

That's basically the end of my story - I became a Fairy Godperson, granted Justin's wish to meet the man of his dreams, who just happened to be a King, I magically transformed the boy into one of the hottest twinks ever to be seen at the Leather Ball and broke the evil curse of those horrible glasses.  My Aunt Lula would be so proud of me, of course I'm never going back to Hazelhurst, Mississippi, so she'll probably never know.  But y'all do and that's what's important.

So, there isn't really anything more to tell about.  The rest, as they say, is history.  Well, except for the kissing and fucking parts.  But you don't want to hear about that, do you?  Oh really - you wouldn't mind so much?  Okay, if you insist. . . .

After I left them, Justin and Brian stood up from the booth and fell into each other's arms and as they reached for each other a wave of love swept over them. Now, since the invention of the kiss there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure, and this one left them all behind. . . . . . . .  

Ha, Ha, Ha - gotcha!  Brian's kisses being pure?  You were really gonna buy that shit?  Suckers.  

Actually, from what Justin told me the next day, there were a lot of kisses; hot, wet, pounding, sucking, crushing kisses, and there was definitely some passion, but he didn't mention any pure, chaste kisses at all.  

He did tell me that as soon as the two of them got back to Brian's loft, Brian pinned him to the wall next to the door, crushing his mouth with a hard, demanding kiss and literally tearing his shirt off so he could run his hungry hands over the silky, ivory skin unimpeded by the cloth.  Moving down from those bruised-cherry lips, Brian began licking and nibbling at the creamy skin of Justin's jaw and neck, savoring each tender inch.  Justin's head fell back, his eyes fluttering closed, lost to the ecstatic feelings Brian was generating throughout his body.  

Brian's questing mouth continued down over the boy's shoulder and collarbone, tasting the skin of Justin's chest and trailing his tongue downwards leaving wet paths of saliva wherever he kissed.  Inhaling the musky, sweet scent that was Justin, he could feel the aroma triggering the pleasure centers of his brain, igniting his nerve ending and releasing endorphins throughout his body.  His dick was so painfully hard from the stimulus that he knew he wouldn't last much longer, so he pulled away from Justin's body just long enough to take three or four deep breaths and swallowed, allowing the rising tide of passion to recede just a bit.  Then he dove back at the willing body, latching on to one already erect nipple and playing it with his tongue until Justin could no longer hold back a weak moan.

Justin moaned again and pressed his hips forward grinding his cock against Brian's thigh.  

"Brian, please. . .I need . . . more," the enraptured blond whispered as he ran his fingers through the sweat-dampened brunet tresses on the back of Brian's neck.

The older man immediately acquiesced to Justin's demands by reaching down, sliding one arm behind the boy's knees while the other gripped his shoulders more tightly, and lifting the smaller man into his arms. Hugging the light body tighter to his chest, he went back for another taste of those pouty, accommodating lips, demanding access with his tongue and thrusting deeper into Justin's mouth, trying to taste all of him at once.  Then, without pausing his urgent tongue fucking of the willing young mouth, he carried Justin towards the bedroom at the rear of his loft.

Breaking the kiss finally, as he playfully dropped the blond onto the royal blue linen sheets of the bed, Brian quickly undid his belt and his fly, pushing down the pants and his briefs with one rapid movement and stepping out of them while toeing off his shoes.  Justin lay sprawled across the bed, enjoying the view as Brian stripped, rubbing idly at his bulging crotch through his pants.  The now bare Brian beamed down at the beauty below him then bent over to buss the blond's already bruised lips, bringing the brunet to his knees between the boy's thighs.  

As Brian extended his hand to the fly of Justin's cargo pants, he felt the moist spot from Justin's leaking cock, and couldn't stop a groan of desire from escaping his lips.  His hands were fumbling at the boy's waistband, so eager to get rid of the encumbering pants that he couldn't move his fingers fast enough. Finally, slipping the button through the hole and yanking down the zipper, he bent over to mouth the wet, hard bulge straining through the boy's briefs, reveling in the whimpers and other incomprehensible noises pouring from his lover's lips at the contact.

Sliding his hands around the boy's waist and then slipping them between the smooth warm skin and the cloth, Brian slowly nudged the briefs and pants down past the boy's hips, freeing the fully engorged cock which jumped towards its liberator as if demanding further attention.  Brian obliged willingly, extending his tongue to lick at the dripping tip, greedily lapping up the salty pre-cum and causing Justin's dick to twitch even more.  Encouraged by the increasing volume of the boy's moaning, he engulfed the throbbing erection, moving his tongue rapidly as he sucked and slid his mouth up and down the smooth shaft.

When the youth began to arch into Brian's mouth, the man backed off, releasing the pulsing organ before the boy could climax.  Brian was a consummate lover and knew better than Justin did himself what the boy needed and how exactly to bring him the most pleasure.  He knew that Justin would not be sated with a simple blowjob.  Brian wouldn't be either.

Moving to the side so he could fully remove the chinos and briefs, he looked down again at the lust filled blue eyes and the full pouting lips of the man in his bed and was reminded again of the shimmering white-clad angel from the Ball. He plunged forward to bite those needy, beautiful lips which he couldn't seem to get enough of - not at the Ball and definitely not tonight.  He realized he was panting and his own cock was dripping profusely.  He wanted this boy so badly - he'd never felt this way before, but God, he had to have him, now.  Fuck trying for restraint or attempting to make this last - the reality was that this fuck was going to be hard, fast and furious.

Neatly snagging a condom and the tube of lube as he moved to kneel between the wide-spread legs of his lover, he bent to whisper in the boy's ear.

"I don't know if I can go slow, Justin. I'll try.  I just need you so badly.  But I don't want to hurt you so, please, let me know if you need me to back off," Brian breathed, ending his comments with a series of feather-light kisses down the side of the pale, slender neck.

"It'll be okay.  I want you too, Brian.  Just,  . . . not too hard, please," came the euphoric response.

Brian lost no time in sheathing his dick with the condom but rather than open the lube right away, he instead brought the fingers of his right hand up to Justin's mouth and tapped lightly with a well manicured nail against the boy's bright white teeth to gain entrance.  Justin opened gladly and sucked at the fingers that were thrust within.  

"Make them good and wet, Justin." the man directed as he languidly stroked his other hand over the boy's belly and hip.  

When the fingers were dripping with moisture, Brian pulled them back and snaked his arm down past the crotch adorned with masses of soft golden pubic hair and the straining, rock hard cock, sliding his hand under the sensitive balls and ending up directly on target at the tight pucker of Justin's hole.  Brian used the spit slicked fingers to carefully prod at the virgin opening, then pressed in with one finger past the tight ring of muscles.  Justin gasped and his body writhed beneath him, but he stilled as soon as Brian's firm, warm hand began to lightly stroke in circles on his stomach.  

"Relax.  It'll be easier if you don't fight me."  Justin heard and he tried to remain still and let his body relax into the soft mattress.

When he felt the tension decrease, Brian proceeded to slide in another finger and then a third, stroking the velvety insides of Justin's tight hot hole, loosening the muscles and preparing the boy for the main event.  Justin was now writhing under him in spite of his hand on the boy's hips trying to keep him quiet.  The unbridled enthusiasm of this young man made Brian smile and he felt a wave of warmth surge through his groin.  Everything this boy did was so enticing and erotic and exhilarating that Brian suddenly had the foreign thought that maybe tonight wouldn't be enough to satisfy him where this man was concerned.  

But, he didn't have time to analyze that thought for long, as the wiggling ass below him was a good indication that the boy was ready for more.  Brian slid his fingers out, eliciting a groan from the pillow area, then flipped the lid of the lube and squeezed out a generous dollop which he let sit in his palm for a few moments allowing it to warm slightly.  Then he efficiently coated his shaft as well as the boy's now throbbing pucker, and aligned himself, ready to thrust into that heavenly, tight, hot, hole.  

"Relax, Justin.  I want you to enjoy this," the King said as he pushed the head of his cock partially into the welcoming entrance.  Seeing his lover grimace at the unanticipated pain, Brian paused momentarily, continuing to rub circles of relaxation on the smooth, taut abdomen until he felt the muscles again relax.  

"Good boy," Brian crooned as he thrust further into the tight little ass.  "It only hurts a little at first.  That's a part of it,  But so is the pleasure.  Just relax and let me take care of you.  I want you to always remember this so that, no matter who you're ever with, I'll always be there."

As he persistently thrust into the welcoming warmth, Brian watched as Justin's expression turned from pain to delight, he increased his pace, withdrawing and then driving in again and again.  Brian felt as if he was losing himself in the ecstasy.  He sensed two strong legs wrapping themselves around his back, causing him to penetrate deeper with each surge.  The two men's bodies seemed to fit together so perfectly and they worked together as if they'd been doing this for years - Brian had never been so complete as he was right at this moment with his orgasm nearing and this amazing, beautiful man writhing against him.

Within too short a time the man felt the familiar drawing in feeling beginning in his balls and knew it was already too late to try to hold back, to try to draw this out any further.  He could never stop now.  Brian threw all restraint away and joyously plunged into his lover one more time, feeling the explosion of all his nerve endings as his cum burst forth filling the condom.  As the last spasm of his own climax racked his body, Brian grasped the hot hard shaft of his lover, lightly pumping it once and then again to hasten the boy to his own glorious end.  Justin instantly started to cum, long streams of jizz shooting out to cover the bodies of both men.  And, just as the final spurt jetted out, and Justin felt Brian collapse on top of him, he felt the man press his sensual mouth to his ear, and he heard an almost noiseless whisper:  "I love you, my Prince."

****************************

The end.  Or the beginning.  Depending on how you look at it!  Love, Auntie Em.