LEO AND CHARLIE

LEO AND CHARLIE

JOSHUA DAY

This is a wonderful book. It explores erotic love, conspiracy, mystery and adventure. The author unleashes a frightening vision of Human evil and the hypocrisy of evildoers as his plot strips away the darkness and exposes gay bashers to the light of day. This is a risky and ambitious work that admirably treads the tight rope between appearance and reality, memory, history, magic and mundane.

About The Author

Joshua Day is a prolific writer. He has penned two other novels and several short stories. One novel is about the American Civil War. His other novel deals with growing-up gay in the 1920's South. His writing style is refreshingly well structured and articulate. The author breaks new ground with this manuscript and leaves the reader wanting more.

e-BOOK

Maverick Publishing

HOUSTON, TEXAS

LEO

And

CHARLIE

JOSHUA DAY

An Erotic Tale

e-Book 2004

www.mittymax.com

LEO AND CHARLIE

JOSHUA DAY

e-Book

Maverick Publishing

HOUSTON, TEXAS

LEO AND CHARLIE

JOSHUA DAY

AN EROTIC TALE

Charlie waits four years for Leo, and in all this time, he never touches the boy. He wants Leo to be old enough to make a decision without the influence of his sexual urges. So on the night of Leo's eighteenth birthday, Charlie sits in the school gymnasium and listens as Leo delivers the valedictory address. Charlie knows that on this night he'll claim the prize

that he well deserves. But will this sexual affirmation be the end of him?

JOSHUA DAY

CHAPTER ONE

The aircraft whined, climbing almost straight up. The engine was cut, and it dove downward, whizzing like an old man with Tuberculosis. It disappeared behind the trees, but shortly, its engine restarted, and the craft pulled from its cover with smoke trailing from its rear. Training for war is dangerous, Leo thought.

He stood up from his pick sack and saw his daddy far in front. No way could he keep up with that man. Leo was sixteen, and if the war lasted two more years, he was going to volunteer. Volunteer hell, he’d be drafted, and maybe he'd fly one of those little Pipers and knock some Germans out of the sky. But Charlie told him that the Pipers weren’t flown in the real war. The little fighter planes, which were quick as cats, did the fighting. He'd have to talk some more with Charlie and get his advise. And from the looks of a thunderhead forming in the southwest, Leo might get his chance to talk to him that afternoon. Gad, I wish it would rain, thought Leo. I hate farming. Be glad when I finished school . . . No, he was going to join the army air force, or something . . . Shit, he didn't know what he wanted. "Come on, rain," he said, looking back at the darkling sky.

Ten minutes later, lightning streaked in the west, and thunder threaded and warned like an old grandpa.

"Head for the barn, Leo," his father called. "That cloud could have a tornado in it."

I don't care if it has two tornados, Leo thought, just as long as I get out of picking cotton.

At the barn, Sam Frankford, Leo's daddy, weighted the cotton and Leo empted the sacks in a corner. "Think it will rain the rest of the day, Dad?"

"Might as well. Cotton's already too wet to pick."

"Do you care if I go over to Charlie's place? His nephew is a fighter pilot. That's what I'm going to be."

"Been watching those planes fly out of the arsenal, have you? One went down last week. Let me tell you, if one of those little Pipers went down with nothing shooting at it, just think how much more dangerous it'll be with Hitler's bunch on your tail. Best thing you can do is get used to mule farts."

"Ah, Dad."

"Hell, go on over to Charlie's and get yourself lightning struck. You ain't worth a shit, anyway."

After walking a mile, the ground dried out. That meant old Charles hadn't got a drop. Not that he needed it. Charlie got a pension from the first war. Said he was injured in the back. But it was only when someone mentioned plowing a mule that Charlie walked with a limp. Leo questioned his friend about this. Charlie said he'd go to bed and stay before he'd follow a farting-mule. Perhaps that's why Leo liked the man . . . them having the same disposition about farming and all.

The boy came to the mailbox with reflectors. Charlie had the only box on the mountain with reflectors. The mailman never ran at night, but old Charles said if the mail happened to be late, he didn’t want them to miss his box. Might have his pension check.

Charles Whitlow shone in big red letters against a dark background. No way could anyone miss that thing, Leo thought as he brushed aside the weeds that stood on the path that led to old Charlie's.

He rounded the curve and saw the forty-six-year old man heading for his chicken house, walking as straight as an Indian Chieftain. Evidently, he wasn't sure who the boy was, because the man bent his back and hobbled on.

"You don't have to walk like that, Humpy. It's only me."

"Damn, boy, you should start whistling as you came down the path and save me all the trouble."

"Your in the wrong business, Charlie. You should be an actor instead of . . . What the hell is your business, anyway?"

"It'll be kicking your ass one of these days. Rained you out, did it?"

"Praise the Lord for that," Leo said.

"I'll be back. Have a chair on the porch, there."

Leo took a seat in the swing and started it back and forth. As the contraption creaked he looked at the ceiling and saw the wasp nest that had been hanging there since the Civil War, or could've been there since the Flood. He'd offered to knock it down, but Charlie didn't want the wasps disturbed "Never can tell who them little fellows might be," Charles said. "May be my dead grandpa, for all I know."

The man was funny like that, always had respect for critters, and that included snakes, poison ones, too. Leo had seen Charlie handle rattlesnakes. In the summertime, one could never tell when a serpent would slither across the man's yard. He reminded Leo of a Holy Roller, but Charlie didn't go to a church of any kind. He wasn't a Christian. Leo did have a suspicion of what the man was, but he'd not discussed that with him, not yet. He might bring it up that afternoon. No, about the only thing Leo knew about old Charles for certain was that he was a generous and kind man. The world couldn't have too many folks like him. If Hitler had traits comparable to Leo's friend there wouldn't be a war going on. Over in Germany men like Charlie would most likely be exterminated. He'd read that somewhere. And Charlie had told Leo that Hitler stacked up Jews like cordwood and sent them to the gas chamber. Leo hadn't read anything about that in the newspaper. Sometimes he believed Charlie made stuff up, then again, he was a mighty smart man. Leo had heard that crazy Hitler was trying to start a master race. Only blond and blue-eyed kids need apply. Hell, Leo thought, I'm a black-headed and brown-eyed boy with a big dick. He wondered if that counted. He couldn't wait to get to Germany and straighten things out. The damn war would be over before he turned eighteen. Most likely he'd smell mule farts for the rest of his life. Shit.

"What ye thinking about, Leo Frankford?" Charlie asked, returning with a bucket full of eggs.

"About the war. What part of Germany is you nephew stationed in?"

"He's not in Germany. He's in England."

"I thought he was fighting Hitler," Leo said.

"You don’t know a damn thing," Charlie said. "Don't your parents teach you anything?"

"Mother's dead, has been for six years, and Dad don't have time for me. I've told you that a hundred times."

"I knew your mother had pass away. She'd been dead about a year when I moved into these parts. A few months later you came nosing around. You thirsty, boy?"

"Yeah. You got any rot-gut?"

"I've the best of whisky in the house, but you're not getting any."

"Why?"

"You're so young you still have that little puppy smell about you. You was to go home drunk, old man Frankford would come over and whip my ass, and rightly so."

"How am I suppose to grow up when you and Dad, and everyone, treats me like a child?"

"For one thing, you are a child," Charlie said. "Let's go inside. I've something to show you."

Once inside, they claimed the steep stairwell to the dank room where Charlie slept. The man opened a drawer and pulled out a document. "I've bad news concerning my papa: He's dead." Charlie paused, looked through the window at the dying vegetation and the brown fields below. "Oh well, he's better off, I suppose. One thing for sure, I'm better off. Leo, I'm what you might call a rich man, at least rich by standards here. Did I tell you that my father owned oil fields in Texas?"

"Four hundred times."

"And like you, I'm a motherless child," Charlie said, putting his will back in the draw.

"And if it weren't for that stingy-ass brother of mine I'd be a millionaire. As it is, I'm far from property's door. Let's celebrate. I'll cook us some catfish . . . "

"And pour us a drink of whisky," Leo said.

"Whisky for me, lemon aid for you."

After they ate the catfish and a salad, made of the few vegetables that Charlie gathered from his pathetic garden, they sat by an outside bonfire, and while the man drank his liquor and the boy drank his lemon aid, the man rehashed his early years in Texas. Later when Charlie's tongue was loosened, he retold his World War I stories.

"After the war you returned to Texas?"

"Yeah. I helped papa with his oil business for a while, until me and my brother got into it. Then I decided to move on."

"Why did you come here-- Alabama of all the places?"

"I don't know," Charlie said. "The day I left home I knew I was going to have back problems, and I figured Alabama would be a good place to practice my acting, as you call it. Actually, sometimes my back hurts like Hell."

"Like Hell, you say," Leo said.

"When I first arrived here, I got a room in Huntsville. Stayed there for three months. Learned the lingo, then went to the veterans affair office."

Leo stood up, walked a few feet, picked up a rock and flung it at the darkness. '"We will fight them in the air; we will fight them on the beaches. We will never surrender."'

"Shut up, Sir Winston," Charlie said, "and sit down."

"Have you ever fucked a woman?" Leo asked, flopping down by the bonfire.

"That's some more of your business."

"I mean, what do you do for sex?"

"What do you do, smart ass?"

"I fuck my fist," Leo said.

"And chickens."

"No, not chickens."

"Well, whatever?" Charlie said, looking displeased with the direction the conversation had taken.

Leo laid back and thought of his and Charlie's strange relationship. He couldn't understand why the man waited. He should know by now it would be safe; whatever he did would be safe with Leo. He had an erection, and he knew Charlie was looking at it. Leo sat up and rubbed his crotch. "I need a blow-job, bad."

"Don't say that, boy."

"Why? Charlie, I know you're a homosexual. Why don't you take it? I won't care, and I won't tell."

"As I told you, you're young and still have that puppy smell. Anyway, you'd loose respect for me."

"I'll come closer to loosing respect for a hypocrite," Leo said as he arose. "I'm going home."

"Don't go, not yet. Why are you going?"

"To fuck my fist," Leo said, disappearing in the darkness.

CHAPTER TWO

Charlie listened as the boy's steps faded into stillness. He'd never met anyone like Leo. Charlie knew the boy wasn't queer. No, he was just an outspoken, extroverted, handsome and horny boy, but he was too young, just too young. Give him two more years to age and ripen, and Charlie would pluck him from the vine. But in two more years a girl would probably be getting all of Leo's attention. He won't have anything to do with an old man like me when that happens, Charlie thought, at least not sexually, and not sexual would be okay with Charlie. He loved Leo so much that he didn't would to lose him as a friend. He wanted the boy around as much a possible. But the day would come when Leo's striking form would cease to grace the path that led to Charlie's house. Until that day, he was going to enjoy the delights of being around the lad.

Three months before Leo's seventeenth birthday, he cornered his father by the hog sty. "You spend a fortune on this sticking hogs," he said. "Why don't we kill them while they’re skinny and young? Be tender and better tasting, and we could save on the hog feed."

"Hell, boy, you eat more than these pigs. I'd rather feed um than feed you."

"I've a solution for that," Leo said. "I'll be seventeen-years-old come May. My home-room teacher told me they'd let me in the army if you'd sign."
"Why in the world do you want to get yourself killed? That's what would happen. You get over there running that big mouth, and a Jap or German will close it forever. Why do you want to leave me? Your mother's dead. Shit, you're all I got."

"I want to fly, Dad. Why can't you understand that?"

"There's a lot of training in flying," Mr. Frankford said. "I think one has to attend some kind of school. You don't even pickup a book here. You'd never hack it."

"I don't have to pickup books. My grades are the best in the tenth grade."

"Fine," Mr. Frankford said. "Keep up the good work and maybe you'll make a lawyer. We could use the money."

"You're not going to sign for me?"

"No, I'm not. I don't want to loss you. Anyway, I need your help."

"Well, goddamn," Leo said, kicking at the hog sty. "You might as well sign, because I'm going when I'm eighteen."

"Then it'll be on your hands, not might."

"I'm going to Charlie's."

"You stay over there more than you stay at home," Mr. Frankford said. "Hell, go on, before I have to whip your ass."

When Charlie saw him coming, he knew something bothered Leo. But what a handsome lad, he thought. God help me to resist his charms. The boy swaggered up, and with his eyes flashing, looked at Charlie.

"What's wrong, this time?"

"Dad won't sign for me to enlist, but I don't care where he does or not. Mr. Clark said he'd sign for me."

"Who is Mr. Clark?" Charlie asked.

"My English teacher. I got that man eating out of my hand."

A pain shot thought Charlie. He'd never been jealous of Leo. The though had never crossed his mind that the boy would peddle his charms to other men. I've waited too long, Charlie thought. That dirty schoolteacher has done violated my treasure. Charlie stood with lowered head, his face burning, and his heart pounding.

"Don't worry," Leo, said, as if reading Charlie's mind. "That old man has tried, but I haven't let him . . . not yet."

"What does that mean?" Charlie asked.

"I'll do anything he says to get him to sign, that is if I can get him away from Buster Sharp. The man's about to drain Buster dry, but I can tell Mr. Clark likes me better than he does that gawky boy. Old Buster hates my guts for that, too. So far, I haven't let that teacher touch me."

"No. Don't do it, Leo," Charlie said on the verge of tears. "I couldn't stand for that man to touch you. Don't do it."

"Well, if it's going to upset you that much, I'll reconsider. I knew you loved me. Maybe you will help me get in the army."

"I don't know. It'll be lonely here without you. Why must you go?"

"I've told you and Dad a thousand times why."

"The war's winding down, Leo. By the time you completed basic training it could be over. And I've never known someone flying a fighter plane at age seventeen."

"They'll think I'm eighteen."

"You have to do a lot of lying and aging, then."

Leo walked up to Charlie's, and, with his face inches away, put his hands on Charlie's shoulders. "Will you help me?"

Charlie felt weak-kneed. He couldn't keep from trembling. Oh how he desired the boy. He wanted to take him in his arms, but no, he couldn't. "What will you do if I don't?"

"I'll go to old man Clark . . . tonight."

The words alarmed Charlie more than any battle in World War 1. He'd never been much afraid of anything, not the generals, not the Germans, and certainly not his brother. But this boy, this wet behind the ears puppy, had him on the verge of a complete breakdown. He laid his head on Leo's shoulder and wept.

"Come on, Charles, I wouldn't hurt you. I'm only joking about that old man."

"I'm a old man, too," Charlie said, "and you've beg me to do you for nothing. How am I different from Mr. Clark?"

"You don't seem old to me," Leo said, "plus you're my friend; friends help each other."

Charlie gained his composure, somewhat, and pulled from the boy. "As I said the war's going to be over in a couple of months. They'll be discharging a lot of men when that happens, especially young ones like you. There's another way we might solve your problem. I know this man in Huntsville who owns a little Piper, and what have you. He gives flying lessons. This is your change. I'll pay for the lessons."

CHAPTER THREE

Leo started flying. He'd walked to the bus stop at Logan Crossroad and rode into Huntsville. Charles paid for it all, and to his relief, Leo quit mentioning military service all together. It was just at well, for the war ended a few months later. The flight instructor at Huntsville said the boy was a born flyer, and before long Leo began to solo.

One day in June while Mr. Frankford plowed in his cornfield, Leo flew over and started barnstorming. He got so low that the propeller of the Piper Cub cut some green corn. Mr. Frankford's mule runaway, as did the mules other farmers whose field were nearby. Leo flew over Charlie's place and caught the man down at the creek taking a bath. Leo buzzed Charlie and ran him butt naked to the house. The boy's fun caused a stir on the mountain. Farmers were going to take old Frankford to court to pay the damages, but good ole Charlie stepped in and paid, thus saving Mr. Frankford a goodly amount.

In May of 1946, Leo graduated as valedictorian from high school. His speech had his father in tears, and had many whispering that they didn't know Leo was such a smart boy. Charlie observed the performance for the rear of the gymnasium, and thought: These mountain folks are just learning what I've known for sometime. Leo is best looking and smartest boy in these parts. Charlie's mind returned to February when he'd brought Leo a car. It wasn't a new car, a 39 Ford Coupe, but a nice car. All the boys about were driving, mostly because their father's owned vehicles, but Mr. Frankford had never owned a vehicle and probably never would. Charlie remembered thinking that Leo was most likely the first boy in history who learned to fly before he learned to handle a car. However, the boy was proud of the coupe and became an expert driver in no time. Leo thanked Charlie over and over; nonetheless, the boy had become fond of girls, and girls were fond of Leo. Even as he spoke, Charlie saw a petite blond looking at Leo as if in a trance. And who could blame her? But this night belonged to Charlie. Like Mr. Frankford, he didn't own a car, so Leo came over and picked him up. Charlie told the boy to take that Huff girl, but he refused. He wanted Charlie to be at his graduation. Thus, he sat in the hot gym among stinking men and women, young fickle girls and cute horny bucks. But Leo outshone them all, made the other boys look like mud, and Leo would be Charlie's, at least for the night. But first, they had to get rid of old man Frankford. Perhaps Leo could drop his father off first, and than Leo would be all Charlie's. Alleluia. It was the night of the boy's eighteenth birthday.

CHAPTER FOUR

Headlights flashed passed as Leo drove them the down blacktop road. Soon, however, the traffic thinned, and the road turned to gravel. Leo put his hand on Charlie's knee and asked: "How was my speech?"

"Wonderful, absolutely," Charlie said. "I knew you had the looks to be a movie star.

Now I know you have the talent."

"A turn of phrase can works magic on a backwoods audience," Leo said. "You cold, Dad?"

"About to freeze my ass off," Mr. Frankford said from the backseat of the Ford Coupe convertible. "Take me home."

This night is working out perfect, Charlie thought. I can suck the boy's dick without his old man any the wiser.

As the automobile hummed up the steep driveway in front of the Frankford house, its lights reflected off the upstairs window of Leo's bedroom. Charlie wondered what it would be like to be Leo's bride, to spend a marriage night in that upstairs room with the boy's exotic odor permeating one's nose. To be entrapped in his well-shaped legs, to rub

the black hairs on those legs and to feel Leo's huge organ working its way inside one.

Charlie would never spend a night in that room. He knew that, but this night he'd discover what he'd be missing.

Mr. Frankford hopped from the backseat as he spit a stream of snuff. "Y' all better let up that top before you catch your death of cold."

"I'm having Leo take me straight home," Charlie said. "I'm cold myself."

Mr. Frankford went bouncing and coughing to the house, and Leo turned the car around and raced the moon down the road.

The boy talked of things that were not related what-so-ever with sex. He's cooled his lust on girls, Charlie thought. He wants do nothing with me. Still when they came to Charlie's home, Leo drove past and went to the pond where Charlie took his baths. The moon shone in the water; stars twinkled above. When Leo rubbed his crotch, Charlie thought his heart would beat a hole in his chest. The boy unbuttoned his britches and his thick weapon leaped out.

"Do me," Leo said. "It'll be my graduating gift."

"Has that thing been inside that Huff girl?"

"Hell yes, but I want you to do me. Just this one time, go down on me."

Leo took Charlie's hand and put in on the dick. The warmth and width of the boy's penis astounded him . . . but no, Charlie would take it easy, take his time and soak in all the boy's treats, for this would probably be the first and last time. So he began to undress Leo. First, he undid the bowtie that was fastened to the white shirt. Leo had cast the tuxedo coat aside upon entering the car. With the shirt removed, Charlie rubbed the boy's arms, letting his hands slip under the armpits to rub the pitches of black hair. Charlie turned to the boy's pants. The tool temporary disappeared inside the boys slacks to

reappear surrounded by a field of resplendent pubic hair. With his hand rapped around Leo's phallus, Charlie buried his nose in that field, smelling Leo's intoxicating odor, his fresh valedictorian sweat and the musky boy smell between his legs. Charlie's mouth was at the root of the prize, and as the moon shown down, the penis looked like a building towering above.

"Take it," Leo said.

"I don't think I can get it in my mouth," Charlie replied.

"Then lick it. Start at the hairs and work your way up."

Charlie did the bidding. His tongue started just above Leo's brown-hole and glided across his oval jewels. It slithered up the pole, which was now jumping and dodging as of it was trying to leave Leo's body. The top of the dick slimed down, and the head of the thing seemed small to be the nerve center of such a huge complex. Charlie's mouth covered the top, but low and behold, the thing went off. He thought he'd choke, but eventually, he got his throat in place and swallowed. Leo's semen was warm, sweet, and like an elixir, it soothed Charlie's stomach.

"Now what?" Charlie asked.

READ THE REST OF THIS EXCITING STORY

JUST CLICK BUY IT

USE YOUR CREDIT CARD

Only $4 US

e-Book

1-800-260-3890