You want a story, huh? A spooky story, because it’s Halloween?
A sexy story? So you want a spooky, sexy story?
Well, I know one of those, and it just happens to be true! And I know it’s true, because Barry told me it really happened to the cousin of his friend’s roommate from college!
His name…well, we’ll call him Allen. I don’t know if I remember his real name. Allen was out driving on Halloween a few years ago, and it was that year when it was really, really raining hard? It was raining so hard that most parents didn’t want their kids going out Trick-or-Treating. So the school organized this big trick-or-treating event right at the school. Teachers showed up, and kids went from classroom to classroom trick-or-treating, and then they had a big party in the gym, with bobbing for apples, and a haunted house, and dancing to songs like the “Monster Mash” and everything.
So anyway, Allen was bummed that no kids were gonna be trick-or-treating his house. He likes kids, you see. I mean, like, REALLY likes them, y’know? Not all creepy…he was a nice guy, I hear. He just looks at them and thinks about it when he jerks off and stuff, y’know?
So to get in the Halloween spirit, he went to see a scary movie at a cool theater in town.
What? No, I don’t know what movie he saw. Stop interrupting.
So Allen’s driving home, and he has to pass by the school, and it’s really late. The school was dark, and everyone had gone home. Except, as he’s driving by, he glances over, and he sees this one little brown mouse boy, dressed in a ninja costume, standing there in the shadow of the school entry awning. And the kid is shivering, and the awning really isn’t keeping him too dry.
And he thinks, what the Hell? Why would the teachers not call this kid’s parents? Why has no one come to get him?
And, to his credit, all he’s thinking about is, I gotta help this kid.
No, he didn’t use his cel phone. This story is, like, from way back, when Barry was in college. We didn’t have cel phones like they do today. Nobody had one. It was, like, pre-Cambrian with dinosaurs and everything.
So he pulls into the school’s driveway and stops his car and rolls down the window and calls over to the boy, “Hey, kid! You okay? Is someone coming to get you?”
Now, from what I hear, Allen was a big guy…big, scary wolverine. But this kid comes over to the car, shivering and scared, but he comes over. “I’m…I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” the boy says, in a cute lil voice.
Allen’s heart totally melts. The kid’s so skinny that the ninja costume’s all baggy on him. “Well, look, kid. My name’s Allen. I know you’re not supposed to talk to strangers…but is your Mom or Dad coming to get you?”
The kid bit his lip and looked down the road, then back at Allen. “I only got a Dad, and he drinks a lot. I don’t think he’s coming.”
Allen feels really pissed about this. It’s like they say…you need a license to drive a car or own a dog, but any asshole who can pump out sperm can father a child. And here’s Allen, who loves the heck out of kids, and he just gets pissed as Hell. “Why didn’t the teachers call your Dad for you?”
And the little guy looks down as his feet and mumbles something, and Allen has to ask him to repeat it a couple of times, and finally, he hears the lil mouse say “I was too ashamed to ask them.” And Allen’s heart totally melts again. And he asks the kid’s name, and the kid says his name is Jordy.
“Well, Jordy, part of me wants to call the cops on your Dad for being so crappy to you…”But the kid looks so ashamed and scared that Allen knows he’s gotta get this kid home first and then figure out how to really help him. “If you’ll trust me, I promise I’ll take you home safely.”
And the boy…Jordy…looks up at Allen…and studies his face for a bit…and then smiles this shy little smile. You know…the kind that…when you see ‘em, you know they’re really precious, because you know they don’t happen often enough for this kid. “I trust you, Allen,” Jordy says. “I can tell you’re a really nice guy.”
So he jumps in the car with Allen, and Allen turns the heat up high, and he takes off his bomber jacket and puts it around poor lil Jordy, and then they drive off. And Jordy’s telling him “Turn left here” and “Go straight here” and stuff.
Now, I haven’t said it, but Allen’s town was really rural, like one of those New England towns where there’s a little center with shops and things and a movie theater, but then out of town, it gets really forested, with winding roads, and few street lights. And he knows the neighborhood Jordy’s directing him to. It’s way off from the town center, where a lot of the poorer families live in these old houses that were nice once, but that never get fixed up and are just kind of decaying and falling apart.
On the drive, Jordy’s talking with Allen. He says how he’s 11 and a half and his last name is Greene. He tells him about how much he likes English but hates Math, and he wants to be a Broadway star when he grows up. And they’re on a stretch of unlighted road, and Jordy kind of snuggles into Allen’s side. He was driving a car that had long bench-type seats instead of individual seats, and no one wore seatbelts back then. And Allen, he just kind of puts his arm around Jordy, feeling how cold the boy still was. And he gets nervous. “Wow, you’re really cold. We gotta get you warmed up.”
And Jordy smiled again. “I was right,” he said. “You’re a really nice guy.”
And then he feels Jordy put his little hand right on his thigh.
And he manages to pull over without crashing the car.
And he’s sitting there, headlights turned off, on a dark stretch of road. Only the sound of the car heater and the voomp-voomp of the windshield wipers going back and forth. And Jordy snuggles up to him…cute, frail little Jordy, as cold as ice. And Allen says, “Jordy, you shouldn’t put your hand there.”
Jordy says, “But you like it, right?”
And Allen groans. “Yeah, I do.” And he can feel how hard his cock is getting, straining against his jeans. “But…it’s…it’s not right.”
Jordy smiles. “You’re not doing anything wrong, Allen. You just wanna help me get warmed up.”
And then Jordy moves his hand right onto Allen’s cock, and kind of squeezes it through the wolverine’s jeans.
After that, caution was pretty much thrown to the wind. Allen got those jeans open and pushed them down to his thighs, and soon the chilly paws were stroking his hard cock, up and down, but they warmed up pretty quick. And when Jordy leaned over and took Allen’s cockhead in his mouth, it was nice and warm and wet. And Allen petted Jordy’s ears, stroked his hair, and crooned to him, telling him what a sweet boy he was, and how his father should feel so lucky to have such a beautiful boy in his life.
And then Jordy stood up, pushed down his black ninja pants and his little blue and red underroos, and sat in Allen’s lap. Allen groaned, kissing Jordy’s lips, over and over, feeling the boy’s fingers fumbling with his cock, guiding it…and then Jordy sank down onto him.
Allen doesn’t know how long they were parked there. He remembers not even thrusting…just holding Jordy, kissing him, telling him how beautiful he was, admitting how much he’d wanted to do something like this for years but how he’d never acted on those impulses, always waiting for a kid to show him it was okay. And Jordy didn’t say anything…he just groaned as he rocked on Allen’s cock, milking it with his tightness, crying out with a high noise like a bird whenever Allen’s thick head stroked over the tiny, immature prostate inside.
Allen knew he was crying from the sheer pleasure of it, and he held Jordy like he never wanted to let go. He wanted to promise Jordy that he’d take him away, that Jordy would never be neglected by a drunken, deadbeat Dad again. Whenever he tried to say to Jordy that the boy could come home with him instead, the little mouse would kiss him again, and then tongues would be in each other’s mouths, and the conversation would be over for a bit.
When Allen came inside Jordy, he says it hit him like a wave, and it must’ve leaked back out, because his groin was soaked with cum. Jordy moaned and tucked his head under Allen’s chin. They sat there for a while before Jordy finally eased himself up and off of the big wolverine’s cock. They got some napkins out of Allen’s glove compartment and cleaned up a bit. They grinned at each other, snuggled together, lost in the afterglow for a time. But then Jordy sighed. “I have to get home, Allen. You have to drive me.” He points down the dark road. “After about a mile, this will turn into a dirt road, and then end. But there’s a left you can take. Take that left, and my house will be the only one you’ll see on your right, right across from the cemetery.” Jordy yawned. “Is it okay if I stretch out on your back seat and take a little nap?”
Allen smiled. “Course it is.”
He helped Jordy scramble over the backseat, and the boy stretched out, wrapping himself in the bomber jacket as a blanket. Allen watched him doze off, then turned on his headlights and drove down the road. Sure enough, it became a dirt road, and then it ended, but there was a road to the left. Allen turned left, and then he saw the gates of the old cemetery to his left. And sure enough, on the right, there was one house. The porch light was on, and Allen pulled up in front of it. He stared at the house, not sure what to do. Should he go up and confront the father? Should he just let Jordy out? As much as he wanted to punch the boy’s deadbeat Dad, he was suddenly nervous, after the sex. What if the Dad called the cops on him? Then everything might come out.
He swallowed, then turned around in his seat to wake Jordy up…only to find that his back seat was empty!
He blinked. Had Jordy fallen off the seat onto the floor? He checked. Nope. Had the boy gotten out of the car when he’d pulled up and he’d been too lost in thought to notice? He didn’t think so, and he couldn’t imagine Jordy leaving without saying good-bye. Finally, however, he figured that this must be what happened. But he didn’t feel right leaving without making sure Jordy had gotten into the house okay.
He turned off the car, got out, shivering without his bomber jacket, which was also missing, and ran up to the porch. He knocked, and, after a minute or so, the door opened. Allen knew that the short, paunchy mouse in front of him must be Jordy’s Dad. There was a reek of bourbon, and Allen felt rage welling up, but the man’s face was so haunted, that Allen felt oddly uncomfortable. “Uh…hi…I’m sorry to bug you…but…”
The man looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. “You must be the guy who drove Jordy home?”
Allen swallowed…had Jordy said anything? “I…yeah, I did.” He swallowed again, then steeled himself. “Listen…you can’t just get drunk and not drive him home like that. What if…?”
The man put up his hand, and Allen trailed off. “Believe me…I’ve heard it before.” Allen felt furious for a moment, but the man looked so miserable that he pitied him a bit, too. “Believe me, I’ve more than paid for it,” the man sighed.
Allen clenched and unclenched his fists. This was a battle for daytime, in the courtrooms. “Look…let me just say goodnight to Jordy and get my jacket back, and I’ll be on my way.”
The man let out a bitter laugh. “Goodnight to Jordy? Sure.” The mouse pulled on his coat, stuffed a baseball cap over his hair and ears, and started to leave the house.
Allen blinked. “What? If this is some kind of joke, I’m not laughing.”
The man shook his head. “No joke. I’ll take you to Jordy to say goodnight.”
Confused, Allen followed the man through the rain, across the street, and into the graveyard. Were the neighborhood kids having some kind of spooky party out here? It didn’t seem likely. Allen followed warily, thinking maybe the man was going to try something funny. But finally, the man just stopped and pointed down a row of gravestones. “Last on the left.”
Allen blinked. “What’re you talking about?”
The man looked at him miserably. “Jordy died ten years ago on Halloween night. I got drunk and never picked him up from his party. As he was walking home through the rain, he got hit by a car. Ever since then, every Halloween, he finds a nice guy to drive him home.”
Allen stared at him, then walked down the row of gravestones and found the last one on the left. His car’s headlights were angled so he could just make out the gravestone. Jordan Greene. He looks at the dates. The death date was ten Halloweens previous, and, judging by the birth date, the grave’s occupant had been 11 and a half when he died. But that’s not what convinced Allen of the man’s story. No, that was all convincing, but the clincher was what he found ON the gravestone, not written on it.
He found his bomber jacket, all folded up, waiting for him.
And that’s the story, and it’s totally true. It’s late, and we should probably get some sleep, even if I feel all spooky now. If I can’t doze off, I might come and crawl into your bed. Though we may not get much sleep.
Happy Halloween!