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The Pale Blue Sky

by Jack Lynch

Part 4 - Carey, Chapter 8


Double burger, large fries, and a large soft drink. Carey had been famished but, strangely, the moment the counter server handed him the bag and drink, he lost his appetite.

Following a lame attempt to pack for college, Carey decided to get something to eat. After leaving the fast food joint a few blocks away from home, he thought he might take the food home and eat it later. For curiosity's sake, he took the long way, returning to the boulevard where he'd first seen the man and the boy.

When he reached the intersection where he'd first encountered them, neither was there. Feeling a bit fatigued, he sat down on a bus bench near the corner. He closed his eyes for a minute listening to the traffic whiz by. The sound had a calming effect that made feel drowsy. When his chin finally hit his chest, he jerked his head up. Opening his eyes, he saw the man and the boy taking up their previous positions in the median. The man put his cooler down and unfolded his cardboard sign. The kid flopped down on the ground keeping his eyes and head facing down into his lap.

After a minute or so, the kid glanced up and, sensing Carey was watching, turned his head slightly and looked at him out of the corner of his eye. Carey set the bag of food and the drink down and slid over to the opposite end of the bench. The kid raised his head, looking at Carey on the bench, and cocked it quizzically to one side.

After a moment, he got up and walked to the edge of the curb just across from Carey. His dad glanced over briefly while he continued to hold his sign and watch the cars passing by. After waiting for traffic to pass by, the kid walked across to the bench where Carey was sitting.

He stood looking alternately at Carey and the food and drink.

"Help yourself."

The kid's eyes narrowed in a look of skepticism.

"Go on," Carey encouraged.

The kid dropped to the bench on the end closest to the food and drink. He slowly and carefully unfurled the top of the bag and opened it as if he might be handling a bomb. His eyes gazed down into the bag. Reaching in, he pulled the burger from the bag, slowly unwrapped it, looked at it as if he was examining a foreign substance, and then furiously tore into it. Chewing, swallowing, biting off chunks of burger and chewing some more. In between, he pulled fries out of the bag and crammed them into his mouth. Not even bothering with the straw, he popped the cover off of the soda and drank in big gulps.

Eventually, the eating slowed down. The food had evaporated before Carey's very eyes. The kid gave a big belch, chuckled, and resumed eating.

Close up, Carey allowed his eyes to fully take in the boy's features. He certainly gave off a strong smart ass vibe, a constant expression of scorn on his face. Cute and bad all wrapped up in one. Scraggly looking, greasy long hair, dirty blond, well over his ears and onto his neck, falling into his face. From time to time, he either jerked it out of his eyes or swept it back with a hand. Fine features, narrow almond shaped eyes, ordinary nose, thin lips, pointed chin. Pale, sickly looking, even though his skin was unblemished; not even a visible mole or any freckles. His smell, sort of like dust or dried dirt with a mixture of sweat, possibly a hint of piss.

After the food was consumed and most of the drink was gone, the kid stuck a finger in his mouth and wiped excess food away from the inside of his cheeks and along his gums. He tipped his head to the side and squinted at Carey. Clearly thinking.

"I saw you," he said.

"You saw me sitting here?"


A long pause. His eyes narrowed again. Evaluating or judging? Carey was confused.

"You saw me the other day when I gave your dad some money?"

"No." The kid smirked, "I saw you in the woods."

Carey's face felt hot.

"You did?" He asked with alarm.

"You get your jollies off from watching?" The kid asked accusingly.

Carey just looked at him. He was speechless.,

"Fag!" The kid yelled sharply.

"I'm not a fag!" Carey retorted.

"Ya! You are!" The kid yelled more loudly.

"Am not!"

"You got off watching me get fucked, didn't ya?" The kid said as he glared at Carey.

"You're a whore!"

He brushed his hair back from his eyes after which it immediately fell back.

Turning his head and staring straight ahead, "Well, ya," the kid said with a smirk and a lot more quietly.

A long silence ensued. They both watched the traffic go by as they observed the boy's father collect a few dollar bills and some change. The kid tipped the cup back and sucked out the remains of the drink and chewed on some ice. He threw the paper wrappings from the burger back into the bag, crumpled it into a ball and dropped it onto the bench.

As he got up and started walking away he said, "Tomorrow. Two o'clock."

Surprised, Carey responded, "Here?"

"No, the lake."

With nothing further to say, he crossed the two lanes and returned to the spot where his father was stationed. He slumped back down to the ground, knees up, head down.

He emptied his pockets of everything except his ID and a few dollars. He wasn't going to take any chances. That kid could easily be setting him up. Carey had a feeling he was volatile and capable of anything. His smart ass attitude was intimidating.

Carey decided his peace offering was going to be more food. Perusing the refrigerator, he found a plastic container of fresh egg salad. He made an egg salad sandwich, placing it into a lunch bag with some potato chips and a soda.

Being a warm summer day, he wore a sleeveless t-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts and sandals.

Just before two o'clock he turned off the trail onto the hidden path and followed it down to the lake shore. When he got there, the boy was nowhere to be seen. Standing on the fallen tree trunk, he perused the shoreline and lake before jumping down and sitting with his back against the tree trunk.

Quiet. Lapping water against the shoreline and a gentle breeze rustling the trees.

Thud! With a bang, the kid jumped off of the tree trunk onto the ground next to Carey.

"Jesus Christ!" Carey jumped up with a start.

The kid laughed and snorted as he flopped down against the tree trunk. With his heart pounding from the scare, Carey sat back down next to him.

"What'd ya bring me?" The kid asked as he grabbed the bag.

Opening it, he took out the sandwich, chips, and drink. Deliberately, he unwrapped the sandwich, looked at its contents, and took a big bite.

"Ok," with a nod.

He ate slower this time. Hungry, but not with as much desperation.

Looking out to the lake, "What's your name?"

"Carey. What's yours?"


Carey chuckled.

"As in the Greek god?"

"No," with a smirk. "As in Apollo Creed."


"My parents are Stallone freaks," he said with a huff.

Carey chuckled. They were silent for a moment.

"When you ate that food I gave you yesterday, you seemed pretty hungry," Carey said.

Looking down, "Ya, I hadn't had anything to eat since the day before."

"Does that happen a lot? Going hungry?"

"Once in awhile," Apollo replied in a small voice, devoid of the smart ass tone.

He brushed the hair out of his eyes and looked across the lake.

"How long have you been homeless?"

"A year or so."

"Where do you stay?"

"Here and there. A shelter sometimes. In the park. Under the bridge downtown."

Carey was speechless. He let out something between a sigh and a gasp.

"They gave us an apartment for awhile last winter. Then they needed it for an immigrant family."

"So, it's just you and your dad?"

"And my mom," Apollo replied.

"I haven't seen her with you. Where is she?"

"She works at a strip joint."

"Is she a stripper?"

"Used to be," Apollo said. "Then her body went to shit." He grunted. "Now, she's a cocktail waitress."

Silence. Now it was Carey's turn to gaze across the lake.

Finally, "You've got some life."

Apollo smirked as he finished the rest of the sandwich.

"Ya. Lifestyles of the rich and famous." Another smirk. "My parents never wanted to play the game."


"They were hippies." Pause. "Or thought they were." Glancing at Carey, "I grew up on a commune until I was eight."

"What was that like?"

"It sucked. But what did I know?"

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen." Looking down, "Well, almost eighteen."

Bull shit, Carey said to himself. He looked more like fifteen. Of course, deprived of food during years when he needed it the most, it was possible.

Apollo stabbed at the dirt with a stick.

Turning to Carey, eyes narrowed, "The other day you were naked. What was that about?"

Carey blushed as he drew his knees up to his face.

"I dunno."

He took a deep breath.

"I like to get naked and, um, get off."

"You do that a lot?" Apollo asked, eyes narrowed, somewhat incredulous.

"That was only the second time."


"Am I bent?"

Apollo chuckled and shrugged his shoulders.

"I dunno. I hardly wore any clothes when I grew up on the commune. Nobody did."

Carey was startled.

"What was that like?"

He shrugged again.

"Didn't seem like any big deal."

Pawing at the dirt some more.

"Just made it easier for people to grab me for sex."

"How old were you…?"

"I sucked my first dick when I was six. Ate pussy, too. Got fucked. A lot"

Carey shook his head slowly.

"Oh man," he said in a mournful voice.

"Ya. Life on the commune. All pure and simple," Apollo said with more than a hint of sarcasm.

Carey felt sad and awkward. Another ache somewhere in his heart. More silence.

"So you like to do it?" Apollo asked.

"Do what?"

"Jerk off."

"I dunno. Who doesn't like to jerk off?"

Apollo shrugged.

"Wanna do it?"

"Jerk off? Now?"

"Ya. Why not?" Apollo asked, somewhat indifferently.

A pause. Carey swallowed.

"I will, if you will."

Without responding, Apollo sat up, grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt and pulled it off. Carey could already feel himself stiffening as he watched him. Before he even pulled his own shirt off, Apollo had kicked his shoes off and unbuttoned his pants. In one stroke, he pulled them off along with his underwear and kicked them off with his feet. He fell back against the tree trunk and stared out at the lake.

Reaching down to open the straps on his sandals, Carey's eyes were riveted on Apollo. Completely naked, he possessed an almost indescribable kind of raw beauty. Pale and unblemished skin, light pink nipples, a little big for his flat chest. Perhaps slightly swollen. Narrow smooth shoulders, ribs barely visible, small tummy and a round "inny" belly button. Light hair on his legs, a small patch of grayish brown pubic hair. Perfectly tight balls. That amazing sausage like cock, over-sized and thick on Apollo's narrow frame.

Carey leaned his hips to one side and then the other as he pulled his shorts and underwear off. Now he was completely naked, too.

He lay back against the tree trunk next to Apollo. The sides of their arms brushed against each other. Carey felt a tingle from the touch. He reached his hand down cupping one underneath his balls and wrapping his fingers around his cock with the other. As he slowly pulled on his cock, he turned slightly toward Apollo.

Apollo looked down at his own cock. He reached down with one hand and slowly flicked it back and forth. In seconds, it stiffened to a full erection. It didn't get much longer but it was amazingly thick and rock hard. Rather than wrap his fingers around his cock like Carey did, he delicately put two fingers on the bottom side of it and one finger on top. He lightly massaged it, almost tickling it with his fingertips.

As he stroked his own cock, Carey was fixated on his jerk off companion. Alternately, Apollo pulled hard follow by opening his four fingers, cupping them, and lightly running them up and down the shaft. Letting go of his balls, he brushed his other hand across his stomach, up to his chest where he lightly squeezed a breast, and then down along the side of his hip. Back to his balls. Eyes closed, then open slightly to gaze across the lake. Hair fell across his face. Creamy tender looking thighs. Sweet enough to kiss, Carey thought.

As the pace of their jerking became faster, Apollo turned his eyes to watch Carey. If nothing else, this heightened Carey's excitement. Uncontrollably, his stomach clenched, he gripped his cock and flexed his hips. Ropes of cum flew out of his cock.

Apollo continued stroking for a few more seconds before he got red in the face, gasped, and ejaculated huge gobs of cum all over his stomach.

As their breathing returned to normal, Apollo did the sweetest thing. He moved over slightly nudging his body against Carey and tucked his head between Carey's shoulder and his neck.

Carey took a deep breath in an out. Shed of his stinky clothes that smelled like dirt and sweat, Apollo smelled different. His skin smelled kind of like oatmeal. Carey put his nose into Apollo's hair. It smelled like, well, hair but different. Perhaps a bit sweeter even though it was dirty and greasy.

Carey closed his eyes. What a moment. He was in heaven.

Almost in a whisper, "About that guy the other day…"

"Oh ya, Apollo replied.

A pause.

"I turn tricks once in awhile."

"You do?"

"Ya, when it gets tight for cash, my dad makes me do my part."

Carey smirked in disgust. He brought his hand up and began to slowly stroke Apollo's hair. Apollo seemed to enjoy it. He closed his eyes.

"How much do you get?"


Eyes still closed.

"Where do you find these guys?"

"Ya know that adult book store on Broadway? I just hang around outside.

Carey turned his head away, mortified.

"Oh God!"

Apollo chuckled. "Those dirty old men come out all horned up. Makes it easy. They love my sweet ass."

A pause.

"I'll let you do me for forty, if you want," he said as he sat up slightly and looked at Carey.

"No way!" Carey shot back.

Apollo laid his head back against Carey.

Then quietly, "I'll comp you, if you want."

"Comp me?"

"Let you do me for free."

Carey pulled away.

"Not even! Fuck off!"

Pulling Carey back down, Apollo snuggled back in.

"Mmmm," he murmured.

It was quiet. Water lapping against the shore. Could this last forever, Carey thought? That would be perfect.

Suddenly, Apollo sat up and turned to Carey. No smile. No real expression. Just a look.

Carey looked back at him.


Without a word Apollo stood up. His now limp cock bounced softly. He grabbed his underpants and used them to wipe the jizz off of his stomach. He tossed them at Carey. They landed right on his face.


As Carey watched, Apollo pulled his pants on, commando style, followed by his t-shirt. He stepped into his ragged shoes.

Shaking his hair out of his eyes, Apollo said, "You're different. I actually like you."

And, just like that, he disappeared up the path.

Exhausted, Carey finally got up, dressed and went up the path himself. At the last moment, he grabbed Apollo's underpants and jammed them into his pocket.

Over the next couple of days, Carey periodically checked the median along the boulevard. Neither Apollo nor his dad appeared. Likewise, he went looking for Apollo at the secluded spot by the lake with the same result.

A soft knock at the door a few days later. Carey had been sorting through his stuff as he tried to decide what to take to school and what to leave behind. When he answered the door, he was surprised to see Apollo's dad standing there.

Shyly he asked, "You seen Apollo?"

Stunned and hardly knowing what to say, he responded, "No."

Disappointed and muttering to himself, the man turned and walked away. As he watched him go, Carey just knew Apollo was gone, probably forever.

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