Porterville

This story contains graphic sexual scenes between males. If material of this nature offends you then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age in most states you are not allowed to read this story by law.

This story is purely a work of fiction. Any resemblance to person's living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely coincidental.

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Mark Stevens

PORTERVILLE

CHAPTER THREE

Britt backed his car out into the street and slowly drove to the out skirts of Porterville. He took the highway heading east and continued his conversation with Devon. Half an hour later Devon told him to take the next left turn. "You remember where Porter Lake is, don't you?" he asked.

Britt nodded. "It's been a few years, but I think I can still find it."

Britt made his turn and grinned at Devon. "This probably won't surprise you, but my first encounter with another guy was out here at the lake."

"Somehow I can believe that," Devon laughed. "Tell me about it."

"Not much to tell really. I was seventeen. It was the summer between my junior and senior year in high school. I hadn't been driving very long. I drove out to the lake one evening just to sit and watch the people. This guy came up, leaned against my car, and started talking to me. He told a few dirty jokes and asked if I ever played with myself. Well, first of all, being seventeen and full of hormones, listening to his jokes had me hard and aching for some relief. One thing led to another, and he was suddenly inside my car. He reached over and felt the bulge in my pants. There was no one around us, and he suddenly reached for my zipper. He pulled my cock out and started stroking."

"Did you last long?"

"Hell, what do you think? It was the first time another guy ever touched me, and it drove me crazy. I shot every where."

"That was really your first experience?" Devon asked.

Britt nodded. "Yep, it was. Oh there had been several others I jacked with. All we did however was get together, look at pictures and jack off. And the pictures were of women. When I was a kid here in Porterville, male pictures were unheard of. There was no place where you could buy them."

"Not much better now," Devon said. "Thank goodness for the Internet."

"Like I said, a few of us would get together and look at these pictures and jack off. To be honest with you, it was watching the others play with their cocks that got me off. There has never been anything about a woman's body that could get me excited."

"I hear you there," Devon agreed. "I will tell you, I tried it with a girl once."

Surprise was in Britt's eyes. "Really?"

Devon nodded. "Yeah, just wanted to see if I could make myself do it."

"Well, did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Did you fuck her?"

"Would you believe I couldn't even get hard? I tried. Boy did I try, but it just wouldn't do a thing."

"Did your date think anything about it?"

"I'm sure she must have," Devon said. "I told her I had a lot of things on my mind, and that I was too damn nervous."

Britt smiled. Taking his foot off the gas pedal for a moment he said, "Something tells me that wouldn't be the case now." He reached over and placed his hand on Devon's crotch. He wasn't surprised at all to feel a thick bulge there.

"I think the same thing could be said of you."

Britt's mouth felt dry as he said, "Why don't you check it out?"

He felt the brush of Devon's fingers as they gently squeezed him. Those same fingers also felt the manhood stir and give a leap. Britt saw a place beside the road where he could pull over, and he stopped the car. He shut the car engine off and turned to Devon. It was unclear who actually made the first move, but before either one knew what was happening they were wrapped in each other's arms. Britt took Devon's face between his hands and pressed his lips against Devon's mouth. Suddenly they were allowing emotion to lead them along.

Finally Britt pulled away and broke their kiss. He hugged Devon to him, holding him tightly against his chest. "God, I have wanted to do that ever since I saw you last night in the bar."

"Same here, Britt. When we sat across from each other in the booth, I wanted to pull you to me and taste the sweetness of your kisses."

"Well, there's no doubt what your kisses do to me." Saying that, Britt took Devon's hand and placed it on his throbbing cock and asked, "Feel what you have done?"

"Damn, you're even harder than you were before," Devon exclaimed. "And thicker," he added.

Their lips met once more, causing them both to be oblivious of anything around them. They moaned and let their emotions run free. Suddenly both men had their shirts unbuttoned.

"Oh, Britt, I need to hold you. I need to feel that hard cock of yours between my fingers. And I want to suck you, want to take your cum down my throat."

"I thought you'd never say that," Britt said running his fingers through Devon's chest hair. .

"Let's go to the cabin," Devon said. "It will be much more comfortable there."

"Will we be alone?" Britt asked.

Devon nodded. "None of the help stay there unless we're there. However, it stays ready all the time for entertaining by the folks."

Britt started the car. Giving Devon a grin, he said, "Then I'm damn ready to be entertained by you."

Britt followed Devon's directions and soon pulled up in front of the "cabin". Definitely not the average cabin, he thought.

The two men walked to the entrance of the "cabin", and Devon inserted a key inside the old lock of the big heavy wooden door. The two walked inside.

Devon closed the door behind them and took Britt into his arms. "Come here, you. I want to feel your hot body next to mine."

Britt did as he was asked and went willingly into Devon's arms. They held each other for a time until Devon pulled back. He took Britt's hand and led him up a winding staircase to the second floor.

At the top he stopped and looked at Britt. "Are you okay with this?"

"I am. Are you?"

Devon took the hand he was holding and placed it against his groin. "What do you think?"

"That I want to get on a bed with you, take your cock inside my mouth and feel it shoot down my throat."

Britt followed Devon into a bedroom where it didn't take them long to shed their clothes and stand naked.

"God, your beautiful," Devon said almost reverently.

"I'm nothing compared to you, Devon McKenzie," Britt assured him. He looked at Devon, and what he saw made him absolutely crazy with desire. Blond headed and blue-eyed, Devon had a hot body. His eyes began with Devon's face and trailed slowly down his chest, enjoying the treasure trail of blondness before him. It made Britt weak with desire.

Devon had about the same thoughts. As he studied Britt, he discovered a firm solid chest covered with thick dark brown hair and a treasure trail leading downward to a thick bush.

"Oh, fuck," he said. He dropped to his knees and gently took Britt's dick between his fingers. He worked the skin on the hard shaft up and down slowly, causing Britt to moan with desire.

Much later they lay on the bed, wrapped in each other's arms. For a time neither one spoke a word.

Finally Devon said, "Britt, may I ask you something?" He pulled the man he was holding closer to him.

Britt leaned into Devon and smiled. "Ask anything you like."

"I really enjoy being with you. Do you think we can see each other while you're in town?"

"I'd like that," Britt answered. "I enjoy being with you as well." Britt looked thoughtful and said, "I'm not sure about your parents, however. I don't think they approve of me."

A scowl appeared on Devon's face. "To hell with the folks!" he exclaimed. "My life is none of their concern."

"I think we both know different."

"What I am trying to say is that I will continue working at the plant for them, but other than that, my life is my business."

"Well for what it's worth, I agree with you and whether they like it or not, I would love more of you."

Devon laughed as he looked at his naked body. "I think you've seen about all there is to see of me,"

"True and I did enjoy the view. Very much!"

They talked well into the early morning hours. Finally as the hands on Britt's wristwatch pointed to three a.m. they left the cabin. A short time later Britt pulled in the circle drive.

Devon turned and faced him. "I had a great time, Britt." He leaned across and brushed Britt's lightly with his own. "Thank you."

Britt returned the kiss and said, "I enjoyed everything about our time together. I'll stick around as long as you will allow me."

Devon opened the car door. As he got out he said, "Then plan on sticking around for a hell of along time. Goodnight, Britt Williams."

"Night, Devon. Give me a call." He fished a business card out of his wallet. "My cell number is on here. Give me a call tomorrow."

Devin grinned. It's today now. May I call you today?"

"Please. You call me anytime you like. I will likely spend the day at the Beacon."

"I don't want to bother you." Devon shut the door and leaned inside the window.

Britt put his car in gear. Grinning he said, "Call me, okay? I want to hear from you."

"I will. Night."

"Goodnight, Devon."

Although it was late when Britt crawled between the covers in his bed, he was up and down at the Beacon by ten o'clock. He showered, downed two cups of coffee and left his mother's house. He was beginning to have doubts whether he would ever find anything that would lead to any type of story line. Perhaps it was like his mother and others had said, there was simply nothing in Porterville history that was worth digging up, much less capable of leading to a good fictional plot.

"Good morning, Alice," he greeted as he came inside the front office of the Beacon. "How are things going this morning?"

She returned his smile. "Kind of quiet so far," she answered. "Still hoping to turn up something, are you?"

Britt nodded. "There has to be something," he said. "I just haven't found it yet."

The smile on Alice's face suddenly disappeared. She remembered something her mother had said the evening before. "Mother said the strangest thing last night at dinner. I told her you were here working on a story line, and she said, `Tell him to check out the cemetery.' She says things like that now and then, sort of off the wall."

Surprise showed on Britt's face. "The cemetery?"

She nodded. "That's what she said, but whether you should put any stock into her suggestion, I don't really know."

"I may have to check the place out," Britt called over his shoulder and disappeared down the hall out of sight.

He spent the morning sitting in front of the computer, going through file after file and still came up with zilch. Even though he was discovering many things about his hometown, nothing reached out to him, nothing claimed the attention of the author inside his mind.

As he continued his research on the computer, one word kept running around in his mind. Cemetery. At first he pushed it out of his thoughts, but the word refused to leave his brain. Cemetery. An hour later he decided he was getting nowhere so he closed down the computer and stood to his feet.

"Going to lunch?" Alice asked as he passed by her desk.

"Later," he answered. "I may be barking up a wrong tree, but I think I'm going to take your mother up on her suggestion."

Surprise showed on her face. "Are you serious? You're really going out to the cemetery?"

Britt nodded. "I think I will. I haven't been there since my father died. Maybe it's time I paid my respects." He gave her another grin and headed for the door. "I'll catch up with you later perhaps."

As he sat behind the wheel of his car Britt's cell phone rang. Devon was calling, and he greeted him warmly. "Hey, what's up?"

"Up?" Devon asked on the other end. "To be honest, nothing is up at the moment. Last night, however, was a different story."

"Yes, it was," Britt agreed. "In fact if memory serves me correctly, I think you were `up' as you put it, at least three times."

"So how are things going today?" Devon asked. "Have you found out any interesting details about our little hometown?"

"Not really. Guess where I'm headed to at the moment?"

"Haven't a clue."

"The cemetery," Britt answered.

"The cemetery?" Devon's voice held a huge degree of surprise. "Why the hell are you going out there?"

"I'm really not certain. Just a thought that was placed in my brain, so guess I'll check it out. Like I told Alice at the Beacon, I haven't been there since my dad died, so guess it's about time I paid my respects."

"Well all right. I guess whatever floats your boat, as they say." Devon changed the subject. "You have any plans this evening?"

Britt pretended to search his appointment book. Finally he said, "I believe I'm open."

"Good. I'll be by around seven-thirty to pick you up. If that's okay with you," he added.

"Sure. Do you have anything in mind for tonight?"

"I'm packing a dinner of sorts, picking you up, and we're heading for the cabin. Any objections?"

"Not from me," Britt assured him. "I'll see you this evening."

Britt closed his cell phone, started the car's engine, and slowly drove to the outskirts of town where the local graveyard was located; where all of Porterville's past were put to rest. A few minutes later he stopped in front of the big iron gate. He shut the engine off and got out of the car. He didn't have a clue what he was looking for as he started off on foot.

The graves at the front were the remains of the early settlers of Porterville. The markers dated all the way back to the 1800's. Britt knew none of the people listed although one or two of the family names sounded familiar to him. As he walked along reading each marker he came to, he was surprised to discover that many children were out there. They certainly didn't live long back then, he decided.

Although Britt didn't recognize most of the names, he found it fascinating just reading the history the stones told. As he read the dates on the markers, the author inside him started having a hay day. Alice may not have put much stock into her mother's suggestion, but perhaps the old lady, may have had the right idea all along.

Britt became preoccupied reading the markers and wasn't aware of how much time had passed. Sometime later he was startled to hear a voice speaking to him.

"Well well, if it's not our well known author. Tell me, Mr. Williams, do you expect to find something here for your story?"

Britt looked up and was surprised to discover Elaine McKenzie standing before him. He looked beyond her and saw her car parked a ways behind. He had been so interested in reading the grave markers that he hadn't heard her drive in.

"Mrs. McKenzie, what a surprise seeing you here. Do you visit often?"

"I pay my respects," she answered. There was a hint of coldness in her voice that forced a chill to travel down Britt's spine even though it was a very warm June afternoon.

"I'm sure that's very decent of you." The same degree of coldness could be heard in his own voice.

"So, to whom are you showing your respect?" she asked. She no longer tried to masquerade the contempt from her eyes.

"My father is buried out here," Britt answered.

"Yes, he is," Elaine McKenzie agreed. "About four rows over, I believe."

"Yes, he is." Britt was trying to keep his voice respectful, if only for Devon's sake. He was, however, finding it more difficult by the second.

"And you are paying your respects on this side of the graveyard because?" she persisted.

"Excuse me, Mrs. McKenzie, but I wasn't aware I had to account for my whereabouts to you. The last time I checked this was a public cemetery, one opened to anyone who chose to visit and pay their respects." There was no mistaking the cold note in his voice this time, and they both heard it.

"You're right, of course. Please, carry on with your `respects'." Elaine Porter McKenzie turned on her heel and began walking in the direction of her car. Suddenly she stopped faced him once more. "Mr. Williams, just what is it you expect to find out about my son? You do have an agenda, do you not, where Devon is concerned?"

"The only agenda I have for your son, Mrs. McKenzie, is to be his friend."

"You are offering friendship? Just what makes you think my son needs your friendship?"

"Mrs. McKenzie, I don't wish to make an enemy of you, and that's the truth. I am quite old enough, as is your son, that we can choose whomever we wish to befriend, and however you may look at it, you have no choice in the matter."

"You are quite mistaken about that, Mr. Williams. Quite mistaken," she repeated. She turned her back once more. As she walked the short distance it seemed her back became straighter making her have the appearance of a much taller woman.

Britt Williams watched as the woman drove silently from the graveyard. He felt another chill work its way down his back, causing him to shiver. What was it about that woman that struck him as odd? he wondered. Something was not right, but what was it? Why was she so determined to keep him away from her son?

Britt's interest in the history found in the cemetery was momentarily lost. He decided to walk by his father's grave before he headed back to town. He walked past a few rows and suddenly found himself standing in front of a vaguely familiar grave marker. He read the heading.

Daniel Williams

1937 – 2002

His father had only been sixty-five when a sudden heart attack had taken his life. The older Britt became, the more he realized just how young his father had been at the time of his death. There had been no warning. One day he had been laughing and joking about drawing his first "old timer's check", and the next, he was gone. One of the things about his father that was constantly on his mind was the fact he hadn't seen the man in over two years. Now that his father was gone, Britt missed him more than ever. There was so much he would like to say to the man.

Britt stood silently for a few moments, entertaining several thoughts and recollecting several memories he had of his father. Daniel Williams had died never knowing his son was gay. Britt had wanted to tell him, but each time he tried, it was as if his father knew what he was trying to say, and he would put a wall up between them. Britt couldn't tell him what was on his heart. Catherine Williams had a pretty good idea her son enjoyed the company of other men and had kept those thoughts buried deep inside her. It was after the funeral when they had some time alone, sorting out things, that Britt had been honest with his mother.

Britt came back to the present. He reached down and touched the tombstone gently. Then he turned and walked back to his car. Something kin to depression had settled in. Suddenly he felt the need to escape quickly.

Britt had Devon on his mind as he drove back to town. He wondered if he should give him a heads up about running into his mother at the graveyard. He was quite certain Elaine McKenzie would tell her son about seeing Britt, and he was equally sure the woman would tell her son how rude and inconsiderate Britt had been.

Britt thought back to their meeting. Had he been rude, he wondered? She certainly had, and he was fairly certain he had returned a lot of what she had dished his way. He had been entirely truthful with her, however, when he had stated he did not wish to make an enemy out of her. Not that she was, nor would she ever be high on his list, but he felt he owed it to Devon to give her as much respect as he possibly could.

As he drove into the city limits of Porterville Britt's cell phone rang. He knew, even before he answered, that it would be Devon on the other end.

"Hey," he greeted.

"So, how were things at the graveyard?" Devon asked.

"Interesting, to say the least," Britt answered.

"Meaning," Devon persisted.

"Meaning I ran onto your mother while I was there."

To say Devon was surprised was an understatement. "My mother? What the hell was she doing out there?"

"Paying her respects was the way she put it," Britt answered.

"Her respects?"

"That's right. Personally, I think she saw me there and stopped to find out what my intentions were where you were concerned."

"Your intentions," Devon repeated. "What the hell?"

"She ask me what my agenda was and why I was pursuing a friendship with you."

"That's none of her damned business."

"I think I said pretty much the same thing. To her, I mean," Britt added.

"Good for you," Devon declared.

"I'm glad you called. I was wondering if I should give you a heads up on this. I don't have a doubt she will say something to you about our meeting."

"Just let her make something of it," Devon said, anger coming out in his voice. He was quiet for a moment and then said, "Britt, please don't let her upset you. I think too much of you and even though we've just met, I don't want to lose your friendship."

"You have no cause to worry on my account," Britt assured him. "I am not going anywhere, much to your mother's sorrow."

"Good. I don't want to lose you."

They talked for another moment or two, and when Britt pulled into his mother's drive, they ended their conversation. Before he hung up Devon added, "I'll be by for you at seven-thirty. Bring your appetite."

Britt hurried up the walk and let himself inside the house where he had grown up. Closing the door behind him he called, "Mom, I'm home."

Catherine Williams was in the living room, and he joined her. He sat in the other recliner, the one his father had liked best, and grinned across at his mother. "How are things with you, Mom?"

"Okay. I just got home myself a short time ago. We're trying to get this quilt finished at the center. The girls and I stayed a little longer than usual."

Britt smiled thinking of the "girls" his mother referred to. There most likely wasn't a one of them under seventy. "Did you finish it?"

She shook her head and said, "Not quite. We're going back in the morning. I think a good hour will see it finished."

"Then what?" he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. "There's always another one waiting," she answered. "We're quite famous around these parts for our quilting. It keeps us busy."

"That's good, Mom. I'm glad. I know I neglect you and don't come home as often as I should. I just wish I could get you to move to the city. You wouldn't have to live with me, you know. At least you would be close by, and I could check in on you."

"Leave Porterville?" she asked. "I could never leave here. This is my home. Always has been, and always will be."

"I understand that, Mom, I do. I just hate having so many miles between us."

"And, if I moved to the city, near you, can you honestly say we'd see any more of each other than we do now?"

"I would promise, Mom, to do better."

"You're busy, Britt," she told him. "You have your own life, your writing. And I have my life here in Porterville. I have my friends, the center, and my church. I am busy as well."

"I know you are, Mom," he agreed. "Well, it's nothing that has to be decided on now. Just promise me, though, that should the need ever arise, you will consider it."

Catherine Williams squared her shoulders and said, "Well as you said, it's nothing we have to decide this very moment. So let's discuss more important things. Did you discover anything interesting today?"

"Would you believe I've spent the afternoon at the cemetery?"

His mother was surprised. "Why the graveyard?" she asked.

Britt shrugged his shoulders. Suddenly his stomach gave a twisted churn, reminding him he had skipped lunch. He stood to his feet. "I thought I might learn some more Porterville history out there." He headed for the kitchen. "I've got plans for dinner, Mom, but if you've got something to snack on, think I'll eat a snack."

"There's sandwich meat in the frig," she told him. "What are your plans for dinner?" She followed him into the kitchen.

"Devon is feeding me this evening," he answered as he searched inside the refrigerator for the "fixings" his mother had mentioned.

"Devon McKenzie again?"

The tone in her voice puzzled him. "That's right. Is there a problem with the two of us having dinner together?"

"Of course not, Britt," she assured him. "I was just surprised. I didn't realize you knew the man that well."

"Well, until I came back, I didn't know him. However, we've talked several times, and we've discovered we have a lot in common. We've decided to pursue our friendship. I hope that won't be a problem for you."

"It won't be for me," she said. "I'm not so sure, however, that Elaine McKenzie will feel the same way."

"Oh, I'm sure you're right about that." Britt made him a sandwich and poured a glass of milk. He sat down at the kitchen table. "I ran into her today, and she made no bones about disapproving of our friendship."

"I'm sorry, Britt," Catherine Williams said. "Elaine McKenzie is quite a piece of work, I know, and I'm certain she will go to great lengths to interfere with your friendship with her son if she possibly can."

Britt took a bite of his sandwich. "Sounds as if you know from personal experience, Mom."

"I've known Elaine Porter McKenzie all of her life. She has always been the way she is."

"She does appear to be one cold individual," he agreed.

"She wants to be in control of every thing and everyone she's around," Catherine Williams said. Her eyes snapped as she spoke.

Britt was surprised by her tone. "Has she ever tried to control you, Mom?"

"That woman has at one time or another, tried to be in control of everyone. I certainly would not want to be in her husband's shoes, and I especially feel sorry for her son."

Britt saw his mother's face take on a look he had never seen before. He wasn't sure why, but it made him feel strange. He was suddenly reminded she had been born and raised in this town, had never left it, and therefore, had to know about everything there was to know about Porterville. Unlike him, she had never left the area; at least for more than a week or two at a time in her entire life.

"What's on your mind, Mom?" he asked as he finished his sandwich. He drained his milk glass.

Catherine Williams came back to the present. "I was thinking about Donald Porter, Elaine's father. He was a cold excuse for a human being. She reminds me of him in every way."

"I don't guess I remember him," Britt remarked. He placed his glass in the sink.

"He's been gone for years. I remember he thought the entire town should jump at his every word."

"His daughter feels the same way," Britt smiled. "Did I mention that while I was at the cemetery this afternoon she came paying her respects to the dead?"

"Did she now?"

Britt nodded. "She was there all right. She wasn't too happy that I was walking around looking at different markers. She ask me if I thought I was going to find something to write about looking in such a private place. She implied I was being very disrespectful."

"The nerve of that woman!" There was a sharp ring in Catherine Williams's voice as she spoke.

"She also wanted to know what I hoped to gain from befriending her son," Britt continued.

"She's a pompous ass." Catherine got to her feet and walked across the room to the kitchen counter. She opened the cabinet and took down the bottle of wine she kept there.

"You are upset, aren't you, Mom?" Britt teased. "Almost nothing upsets you enough to cause you to take a drink."

"Would you like a glass?" she asked, turning to face him. She sat the bottle on the counter top.

Britt shook his head. "No, thanks. Don't think I care to mix wine with the milk I just drank. Thanks for asking." He gave her a grin and reached out to give her a hug. "Love you, Mom."

She returned his hug. "I love you, too, Britt." She pulled back and smiled at him. "I'm so glad you've come home for the summer."

"Me, too. I just wish I were able to spend more time with you. I promise, I will do better."

"Nonsense," she said. She poured some wine into a glass and took a drink. "I'm enjoying having you here. Just knowing you are down the hall when I wake up during the night is such a wonderful feeling."

They went into the living room and enjoyed a good visit. It was a very enjoyable time for both of them, and the time passed quickly. Finally Britt had to get ready for his evening.

He showered, shaved, and a little later, he joined his mother who was in the living room. She had the evening paper in her lap but didn't appear to be reading it. She looked up as he came into the room, and the look on her face caused his heart to race.

"What's wrong, Mom?" he asked. He was suddenly worried. "Are you ill?"

Catherine Williams silently handed him a folded piece of paper. She didn't utter a word.

Britt folded the paper back and read the words printed there. They simply said, "LEAVE WELL ENOUGH ALONE BEFORE SOMEONE GETS HURT!"