PART 13
"Whaddya mean, 'he's disappeared'?"
"Uncle Seth, Brandon's father, has been trying to call him the past several days, and he hasn't been answering his cell phone, so he tracked down his roommate, and he said that Brandon hasn't been around since the second day of school. It's not like Brandon to just run off like that. Something's wrong, Jeremy. I just know it."
"Have you called the FBI?"
"No. Kenny is here on the speaker phone with me. Let me have him talk to you about that."
"Hey, buddy. Listen, I know a guy who works in the Dallas Field Office. I'm gonna call him. That way, this won't get lost in the bureaucracy."
"What can I do to help?"
"I know you need to get back to the ranch," replied Amy, "but do you think you could stay over for a day or two, or at least until we find him?"
"Of course. I'll come right over."
"No. What we'd really like you to do is head up to Uncle Seth and Aunt Cathy's farm. Somebody needs to be there in case he calls, and they could really use some support right now."
"Yeah, sure. I'll check the flights and rent a car."
"That won't be necessary. Daddy's company has a corporate jet right there at the airport. Just sit tight, and the pilot will come get you. And Daddy will arrange to have a car waiting for you."
When Jeremy arrived at the small airfield in Tyler, Texas, a driver met him and took him to the Miller farm just outside of Kilgore. Jeremy had met the Millers briefly at the wedding, or non-wedding, but he had not really gotten to talk with them much. It would be a misnomer to call them "simple folks." They were what people used to call "the salt of the earth," good people. They greeted him warmly and opened their home and their arms to him. There was no word from Brandon that night.
The next day, Jeremy wanted to sit by the phone with the Millers, but he knew that farms don't run themselves, so he offered to help with the chores so that Mr. Miller could be with his wife inside. Kenny called, but it was only to report that there was nothing to report. Then, he called back on Jeremy's cell phone a bit later and told him to step outside where the Millers would not hear.
"From what we've been able to piece together," said Kenny, "some fraternity plebes were given an initiation assignment. 'Fuck a fag,' they call it. They were supposed to identify someone they thought was gay and let him know that he was not welcome on their campus. We don't know yet whether these four boys actually raped Brandon, but we do believe that there was some rough stuff."
"You don't think they...."
"Most likely, he just got scared and ran away. At this point, we are proceeding on the assumption that he is alive, and we're going to keep looking until we find him, but as you may know, the longer he stays missing, the less likely it is that we'll find him."
Kenny agreed to call back the next day at the same time--or sooner if he had something more concrete to report. The next morning, Jeremy cooked a hearty country breakfast for everyone, but hardly anyone ate much. Then, he headed to the barnyard to take care of the chickens and other animals. His cell phone rang.
"Jeremy, I think we may have something. His car was spotted by the LAPD, and...."
"Los Angeles? Why would he go to Los Angeles?"
"I don't know, and I can't say for sure that he is there. All we know is that his car is there. That's not the same thing."
"Well, yeah."
"Still, it's the best lead we've had so far."
"The poor kid is probably starving. From what Seth...Mr. Miller...has told me, he had very little money, and he must've used up nearly all of that on gas. What's he gonna live on out there?"
"I hate to say this, Jeremy, but if he gets desperate enough, he's likely to do what lots of pretty young men do to make money."
"Oh, God, Kenny. No!"
"Let's hope that it hasn't come to that."
"Well, I'm not waiting around to find out. I'm getting out to L.A. as fast as I can."
Jeremy went into the farmhouse to relay what Kenny had told him, minus the scary prospects. He told them that he would go straight to Los Angeles to look for Brandon himself. The pilot who had flown him to Tyler had told him that he would wait around as long as he needed him, so Jeremy called him on his cell phone and told him to get ready. Jeremy threw his clothes together, and Seth drove him to the airport as fast as his old Chevy pickup would take them. Just as Jeremy was getting ready to walk out onto the tarmac, Seth pulled him back and spoke directly into his eyes. "I don't know exactly what your relationship is with my son, and I really don't care. All I know is that he worships the ground you walk on...and he's missing." He gripped Jeremy's hand with both of his and, with lips trembling and eyes watering, pleaded, "Bring my son back to me. Please."
"I will, Mr. Miller. By God, if it's the last thing I ever do, I will."
In a seedy motel off of Santa Monica Boulevard in Los Angeles, a middle-aged man carrying 40 pounds too much weight slapped Brandon around and threw him on the bed. It was all part of the arrangement. He fucked his face so hard that Brandon choked, and he spanked his ass raw and pounded his hole hard enough to tear the membranes of his rectum. Bareback. That, too, was part of the arrangement. When he was done, he wiped the sweat off of his balding head with Brandon's underwear and got dressed. On his way out, he picked up one of the two c-notes he had left on the table.
"Hey, we agreed on 200," said Brandon.
"You were a good piece of ass," acknowledged the man. "I'll give ya that." Then, he stuffed the bill in his pocket and spit, "But you whine too much."
It was the fifth trick Brandon had turned that day and the third time he had been stiffed. After the man left, he got up, cleaned himself up as best he could, and went back out on the street.
Jeremy called Kenny from the airplane just before they got ready to land in L.A.
"He's there, Jeremy. The FBI agents have spotted him on Santa Monica Boulevard."
"Did they pick him up?"
"No, since you're so close, I thought it would be better if you got to him first, so I asked them just to keep an eye on him until you got there. Mr. Leveque has a car waiting to pick you up, and the driver has the information on exactly where to take you."
As far as Jeremy was concerned, the car couldn't go fast enough. The looks of the neighborhood frightened him--not for his sake, but for Brandon's.
"In there," said Harper, the agent who met him. "Room 409."
With no elevator to be seen, Jeremy bounded up the stairs as fast as his legs would take him. Moans, groans, and curses emanated from the room, and they weren't sounds of pleasure. The door was locked. Jeremy threw his full weight against it, which was more than enough to shatter the thin wood into pieces. On the bed, a 40ish-looking Hispanic man covered in tattoos hunched over Brandon, who was bleeding at the mouth. Jeremy grabbed him under the arms and hurled him against the wall. He reached out to Brandon when the man grabbed a lamp, ready to charge at Jeremy.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you!" called Agent Harper, standing in the doorway with his revolver pointed directly at the assailant. "If I were you, I'd haul ass out of here before I got arrested for having sex with a minor."
"A minor! He told me he was...."
"And you believed him? What an idiot!"
The man couldn't pull his clothes on fast enough. He was still zipping up his pants when he reached down to the table for the money he had placed there, but Harper squeezed his wrist so tightly that he dropped the money to the floor. When Harper released him, the man took off like a bat out of hell.
"Thank you," said Jeremy.
Harper winked and replied, "I'll be just outside when you're ready."
Brandon, tears streaming down his cheeks, threw his arms around Jeremy and held on for dear life. "Oh, Jeremy. They, they...."
"I know, Brandon. I know. Forget about that for now. The important thing now is that you're safe. Right now, we're gonna take you some place to have you checked out. Then, we're gonna clean you up and take you to a nice hotel where you can get plenty of rest tonight. And tomorrow, we're gonna take you home to your mom and dad. They're worried sick about you, Brandon."
"I know. I was so stupid, Jeremy."
"Unh. Uhn. None of that. I don't need to hear any apologies. I just want you to get better and come home. That's what we all want."
On the way to the nearest emergency room, Brandon called his folks and had a long talk. Jeremy assured them that Brandon was all right, but that he needed a good night's rest before coming come. Naturally, being his parents, they wanted him home immediately, but mostly, they wanted what was best for their son. The hospital treated his wounds, which were extensive, but not severe, and released him. Jeremy took him to the Beverly Hills Hotel and made sure that he got a good night's sleep. He slept until nearly 11:00, when Jeremy had brunch delivered to the room, and then he slept again until 2:30. Finally, the driver took them to the airport."
"What about my car?" asked Brandon.
"Don't worry about that, Mr. Miller," said the driver. "Mr. Leveque is taking care of everything."
On the plane, Jeremy watched Brandon as he slept. He wanted so badly to touch him, to hold him, to make love to him. There was no one else on the plane but the two of them, the pilot, and the co-pilot, so why not? But he knew that Brandon was in no condition--either physically or mentally. Still, his loins ached.
"Is there anything I can get you?"
"Huh? Uh...." Jeremy had been so preoccupied that he had not even seen or heard the co-pilot approach. "Oh...uh...no, I'm fine, thanks. No, wait," he corrected himself, standing to face the co-pilot as the hunk in the blue uniform headed back toward the cabin. "I could use something to drink."
As Jeremy approached the co-pilot, the young man could not help but notice the bulge in his jeans, conspicuously worn thin at the crotch. "Certainly, sir. What would you like?" Jeremy selected a bottle of the finest imported cognac. "Excellent choice, sir."
"Care to join me?" asked Jeremy.
"It would be my pleasure, sir, but, unfortunately, I can't right now," he smiled as he nodded toward the cabin. Jeremy chuckled knowingly.
"Your young friend there is awfully damn cute," he continued.
"Yes, he is," Jeremy acknowledged.
"I can certainly see why you would care for him so much," said the co-pilot, eying Jeremy's inflated crotch.
Jeremy rubbed his meat self-consciously, to which the co-pilot simply smiled.
"It's too bad he's not feeling well. This would be an excellent opportunity for the two of you to get your membership in the mile-high club--unless you're already members, that is."
"No, we're not," laughed Jeremy somewhat sheepishly. "At least I'm not, and I doubt that Brandon is either."
"Well, I'd be happy to help you get your wings," said the co-pilot, smiling lasciviously at Jeremy.
When Jeremy did not refuse, the young man approached him and rubbed his bulging crotch through his sexy jeans. Jeremy moaned with relief and anticipation. The co-pilot massaged Jeremy's muscular chest, arms, and back. He took the bottle of cognac from him, laid it aside, and kissed him feverishly. "Uh, Brandon...."
"Just pretend for the moment that you're with him and let yourself go." The hunk sat Jeremy down in one of the comfortable leather seats and removed his shirt. He let out an audible gasp at the sight of Jeremy's solid, toned torso. He kissed him again and then worked his tongue down Jeremy's neck to his nipples, where he licked and sucked greedily. He bit through the sexy jeans on Jeremy's growing manhood and chewed on the denim-covered meat. Then, he unzipped the Wranglers and gasped again at the sight of Jeremy's huge hose. "My god!" he exclaimed. "Your boyfriend is one fuckin' lucky dude! Holy shit!" And with that preamble, he devoured the Wyoming sausage. No preliminaries. No slow licks and nibbles. Just pure dong-swallowing lust. He had Jeremy's juices boiling in no time.
"Not yet, cowboy. As much as I'd like to swallow that hot nectar, that'll only get you one wing. If you want both, you're gonna have to go all the way," and with that, the stud dropped his blue slacks with the gold stripes down the sides and offered up his bare ass. Jeremy quickly licked around the man's hole and spit onto his dick. Then, he nudged the tool in as deep as it would go.
"Oh, my god, man. I can't believe you got that whole goddam thing in, but I sure as hell am glad you did. That feels soooooooo fuckin' great. Oh, fuck! Fuck me, dude. Fuck me good."
Jeremy needed no coaxing. He pumped his rod back and forth in the co-pilot's fuselage. "Unh. Unh. Unh. Unh. Unh. Damn, you're tight," Jeremy exclaimed. "Fuckin' tight ass. Oh. Ah. Ah. Ahhhhhhhh." Jeremy shot his pent-up load deep into the man's guts. The co-pilot simultaneously spilled his seed on the leather chair. Then, he licked up his own cum and swallowed it.
"Fuck, man. I think you not only joined the club; I think you just got your fuckin' captain's wings! Like I said before, your boyfriend is one fuckin' lucky dude! If you wanna shoot for astronaut before we land, you just push the call button, and I'll be here on the double."
As grateful as Jeremy was for the relief, he so wished that it had been with Brandon instead of the handsome young co-pilot. As he continued to watch Brandon sleep, he slowly leaned over and gently kissed him on those sweet, innocent lips.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have woken you."
"Mmmmmm. No, that was wonderful. What a way to wake up. Do it again."
Jeremy kissed him again, and Brandon grappled onto his head to prevent him from giving up. He buried his tongue in his mouth and kissed long, deep, and hard. When Jeremy finally managed to break the grip, he said, "Whoa, stud. You've been through a lot lately. I don't want you to strain yourself."
Brandon rubbed the snake growing in his pants. "The only strain I'm feeling right now is this one right here."
"Jeez, Brandon, I've wanted to make love to you so bad, you can't imagine, but I didn't want to hurt you."
"I should be all healed in a few days, and then we can fuck the goddam shit out of each other. Until then, I think I could handle a little blow job."
"You sure?"
Brandon whipped out his fully engorged cock. "Does this look like I have any doubts?"
Jeremy took the prize in his hands and licked and sucked gently.
"Oh, God, Jeremy. Lick my balls." As Brandon stretched out so that Jeremy could lower his pants, he rubbed some of his bruises and winced at the pain.
"Brandon!"
"It's OK, Jeremy. Really. Just keep licking. Damn, it feels so fuckin' good. And you look so fuckin' good with your face in my crotch. Have I ever told you how fuckin' gorgeous you are?"
"Not in so many words," laughed Jeremy, "but I kinda got the hint that maybe you felt that way."
Then, turning serious, Brandon said, "I love you, Jeremy. I've loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you. You're beautiful, but not just on the outside. Your beauty comes from the inside."
Jeremy rose up and again kissed Brandon on the lips. Then, he gazed lovingly into Brandon's eyes and returned to making love to him with his mouth over his manhood. When Brandon released his love seed into Jeremy's mouth, he again winced in pain with each spasm of delight, but he never questioned whether it was worth the sacrifice.
By the time Brandon finished, Jeremy was hard once again, and Brandon could not help taking notice. As Jeremy stood up, Brandon grabbed his ass and pulled his crotch into his face. He rubbed his face all over the crotch, sniffing and biting at the tube underneath the denim. He unzipped the jeans and pulled out the stiff rod. He licked the shaft and then the balls. He ran his hand between his legs and stuck a finger up his ass. Jeremy squirmed with delight. Brandon bathed Jeremy's dick in his saliva and sank the tool deep into his throat. "Mmmmm." He stroked the shaft inside his mouth and then with his hand as he sucked tightly on the corona. "Oh, jeez! Oh, shit! Oh, God! Fuck!"
As Jeremy's tender cock quaked in Brandon's mouth and his knees went weak, Jeremy threw his hands up to the overhead compartment to brace himself. A moment later, Jeremy and Brandon sat stunned, their dicks still hanging out, as the co-pilot stood beside them, smiling broadly.
"Shouldn't you be flying the plane?" asked Jeremy, somewhat annoyed.
"You did call, sir."
"Huh?"
The co-pilot pointed to the red light flashing from the overhead compartment. Brandon laughed so hard that he ached, and Jeremy and the co-pilot could not help but crack up as well.
When the plane landed at the airport in Texas, the Millers, of course, met them and were shocked to see the marks and bruises on their son's face. He did not tell them about the bruises on the rest of his body, but they no doubt imagined. Brandon and Jeremy were equally shocked to see someone else at the airport.
