Escaping Curtis Brown

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Bullied young man escapes his past and becomes something new.
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JimBob44
JimBob44
5,055 Followers

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, using Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned.

*.*.*

He was used to the constant bullying. That didn't make it hurt any less. It just made it an expected torment.

Curtis Brown was short, only five four. Furthermore, he was scrawny, weighing only ninety six pounds. He was cursed with flaming red hair, but thankfully, his pale face had only a smattering of freckles. His mother, also a red head, had impressed upon her youngest that it was important to keep his pale features protected by sun block.

He was sensitive, poetic, and artistic. He could sit for hours and just watch the clouds, imagining various shapes. He could think of stories to go with each cloud, imagining the happier destinations they'd travel to once they blew over Lowenburg, Arkansas.

He was eighteen years old now, and had graduated from James S. Conway High School. There was nothing to do in the small Arkansas town; there was very little employment available, there was very little amusement available.

Listlessly, he walked along the asphalt road, staying in the grass. The black asphalt had been absorbing the sun's rays for several hours now, would burn right through the soles of his cheap flip flops. He walked, no real destination in mind. He did think briefly of going to the library, but Mrs. O'Brien, the head librarian made him uncomfortable. The morbidly obese woman smirked at him, giving him a knowing leer. Under her breath, she'd make snide comments about him.

So he listlessly plodded along, cheap flip flops slapping against the brown grass. His shoulder length hair was damp with sweat and he brushed his hair back with a small hand.

There was a small brick home with a cheerful garden in front. Curtis stopped and admired the floral arrangements in the various boxes. The owners had taken the time to arrange the groupings in colorful patterns

"Like my flowers, huh?" an older man asked, smiling.

"They're gorgeous," Curtis said, then winced.

Glen, his step-father, was always picking on him for saying things like 'gorgeous' or 'adorable' or 'precious' instead of more manly adjectives. He should have said 'nice' or 'colorful' or even 'pretty.'

"Thank you; takes a lot of work," the man smiled.

"Oh I bet," Curtis enthused.

"Ought to see the back yard," the man nodded over his shoulder.

"Oh! May I?" Curtis asked.

"Sure," the man said and walked to the gate.

Curtis followed the handsome man into the back yard. The yard was awash with vibrant colors and Curtis felt the sting of tears. The beauty was overwhelming.

The man put his hand on Curtis's back and pointed out a few of the flowers. Curtis sighed as the man pointed to some orchids inside of a small greenhouse. They wandered through the sweltering interior and Curtis admired the delicate flowers.

"You uh, you want come on in? Have a drink?" the man asked, hand on Curtis's slim hip.

"Whew, it is hot, isn't it?" Curtis agreed and followed his host toward the sliding glass doors of the small home.

The blast of chilled air was welcome; the greenhouse had been nearly suffocating. Curtis breathed out a gasp and pulled the front of his tee shirt away from his sweating chest.

"Got uh, got beer, got some vodka, some whiskey; what's your pleasure?" the man asked, smiling.

"Oh, I uh, whatever you're having," Curtis said.

The man fixed them each a drink. Curtis didn't know what kind of drink it was, and didn't really like it. It tasted like medicine to him. But he did take a sip and smiled approvingly.

"Hey, name's Sam," the man said.

"Huh? Oh, I'm Curtis," Curtis said, holding out a small hand.

"Have a seat, have a seat, huh?" Sam said, indicating a small couch.

Curtis did sit on the plush microfiber couch. Sam sat next to him and took a hefty gulp of his drink. Sam's arm draped casually across Curtis's narrow shoulders.

"A little cocktail in the afternoon," Sam sighed. "I mean, it's only two here, but its five o'clock somewhere, right?"

"You always hear people say that but what does that mean?" Curtis asked and took another sip of his drink.

"Well, not supposed start drinking before five o'clock," Sam explained. "Supposed be sign of an alcoholic if you drink before then."

"Oh!" Curtis nodded.

"So, uh, Curtis, you uh, you got a girlfriend?" Sam asked bluntly.

"Huh? Oh, oh no," Curtis said, sadly shaking his head.

He'd asked Tina Sperry for a date. The Asian-American girl had smiled her sweetest smile but refused.

"But we can still be friends, right?" she had asked in her breathy little voice.

"Oh, but of course," Curtis had enthused.

At graduation, Tina Sperry had waddled across the stage to get her diploma, her tiny frame stretched obscenely by nearly eight months of pregnancy. Stan Norton, the hulking football player, the absolute worst of Curtis's tormentors had bragged about busting Tina's cherry, but now swore that he could not possibly be the father of her unborn child.

"Fuck, everybody knows, can't get knocked up it's your first time," Stan had declared.

"No? Pretty boy like you?" Sam asked, breaking Curtis out of his reverie.

"No. I mean, I asked a few out, but since I'm not some football star..." Curtis explained, voice trailing off.

"Yeah, girls can be like that," Sam agreed. "Little bitches, huh?"

A few moments of silence was broken only by Sam's sipping of his drink. Curtis took another hesitant sip, fighting against the shudder.

"You uh, you not, you into boys?" Sam asked.

"What?" Curtis gasped.

"Hey, hey, it's cool if you are," Sam said.

"I'm not," Curtis denied hotly.

"Really? Too bad," Sam said easily.

"Why? Are you?" Curtis spat.

"Me? Yeah, love sucking cock," Sam said casually.

"Huh?" Curtis gasped, shocked.

"Mean, nice fat dick, nice heavy balls, mm hmm, good mouth full of man juice?" Sam said. "Shit! Gets my dick hard just thinking about it, know what I mean?"

Curtis left quickly, scampering for the front door of the small home. Sam made no move to stop the young man.

And, the next day, Curtis walked up the narrow sidewalk, face flaming brightly. Sam smiled a knowing smile as he opened the door.

"I'm not here, I mean, I'm not here for that," Curtis mumbled as he entered the house. "I'm just here to apologize. That was rather rude of me, to just leave like I did."

"It's all right," Sam shrugged.

He fixed them some iced tea. Even if it was five o'clock somewhere, Sam decided that eleven o'clock in the morning was still too early for a drink.

Sam pulled an unresisting Curtis onto his lap and kissed the young man's pouting lips. His left hand was on the small of Curtis's back, his right hand was on Curtis's thigh, just below the hem of Curtis's cutoff jean shorts. The second time he kissed Curtis, Sam wormed his tongue into Curtis's mouth.

His hand touched Curtis's hard cock through the denim material.

"Like that? That feel nice?" Sam husked.

Curtis mutely nodded his head.

"Then bet this..." Sam said and unzipped Curtis's shorts.

He freed Curtis's five inches of hard fat dick and stroked the smooth shaft a few times. Then he kissed Curtis again, jamming his tongue into Curtis's mouth almost ferociously.

He urged Curtis to sit on the arm of the couch, legs spread. His cutoff jean shorts lay on the floor as Curtis balanced on the padded arm rest. Sam leaned over and took the head of Curtis's cock into his mouth. His hands felt, squeezed, and stroked Curtis's thighs lovingly. Then he sank his mouth down over Curtis's cock. One hand continued to rub and play with Curtis's smooth thighs. His other hand, he wormed a finger into Curtis's tight anus.

"Oh, Mr. Sam!" Curtis cried out.

"Mm hmm," Sam agreed and waggled his tongue around the five inches of hard eighteen year old cock in his mouth.

He thrust two fingers in and out of Curtis's tight ass while sucking and stroking Curtis's cock with his tongue.

"Oh!" Curtis gave out a loud grunt and Sam's mouth filled with sweet spunk.

"Now, that feel good?" Sam asked when Curtis no longer spurted any juice.

"Uh!" was all Curtis could manage.

"Know, it'd feel good to me too," Sam suggested, getting to his feet.

"Huh?" Curtis asked, opening his green eyes almost sleepily.

Sam dropped his nylon shorts to the carpet and pulled on his six inch erection. Curtis stared at the man's fat cock, hairy balls.

"I uh, oh I just don't know about..." Curtis protested weakly as Sam guided the young man to kneel on the floor between his splayed legs.

Sam bit the inside of his cheek, to distract himself. The sight of the sweet, innocent looking red head as he licked around the fat plum shaped head, the sight of those sweet lips stretching to accommodate his cock head was more than enough to send Sam over the edge. The feeling of Curtis's shaking hand as he held Sam's fat meat, the feeling of Curtis's hot tongue, the feeling of Curtis's wet lips tickling his cock was more than enough to send his spunk bubbling up.

Sam thought of Mr. Vernille, his next door neighbor. The man had a beautiful garden, many gaily colored flowers.

And snarled hatefully at Sammy whenever Sammy ventured too closely to his precious flowers.

What a hateful, odious man. Sam had mixed some motor oil and water, then waited until nightfall. It was nearly four o'clock in the morning when he snuck out of his parents' home and doused the flower beds and walkway of Mr. Vernill's yard.

In less than a week, the man's Beautiful flowers were just withered clumps of vegetation. Sammy smirked at Mr. Vernille as the man ranted and raved and accused Sammy of doing something to his prize winning flowers.

"Shit, how he do anything?" Sammy's father had demanded of the fat slob. "Boy even looks cross-eyed at them flowers of yours you jumping his shit."

Crisis momentarily avoided, Sam looked between his spread legs and watched as Curtis bobbed his pretty head up and down the length of his six inches. He smirked; Curtis's own fat dick was hard, throbbing as he sucked and slurped on his very first man's cock.

"Aw shit, oh, sweet little boy, here it...oh!" Sam cried out and began to pump a stream of bitter, salty semen into Curtis's hot mouth.

Curtis squealed in his throat as his mouth filled with a salty, bitter, slimy substance. He swallowed and continued to suck and stroke the fat cock, coaxing more semen from the man.

Gently, Sam pushed Curtis's head from his wilting cock.

"Yeah, boy, that was nice," Sam wheezed.

He pulled the boy onto his lap again, relishing the feeling of the boy's naked buttocks against his crotch. He hugged the boy as the boy put his head on his broad shoulder.

Curtis's head was buzzing, whirring. He couldn't think, he couldn't even feel as he sat on another man's lap, naked buttocks rubbing against another man's cock.

After a few moments, Sam slapped Curtis's buttocks.

"Hey, it's five o'clock somewhere, huh?" he decided.

"I have to go," Curtis suddenly sobbed out.

He quickly pulled his shorts on and scampered from the house again.

"Yeah, sure, see you tomorrow," Sam said as he stroked his renewed erection.

Curtis's mind was a fog as he scampered down the road. Finally, he reached the main highway and had to make a decision. Turn right, and go to the trailer where his mother and step-father lived, turn left and go to the trailer where his older sister and her boyfriend lived, or go straight across to the small convenience store and buy a soda, something, anything to wash the taste of another man's semen from his mouth.

He loved his mother but actually despised Glen, his step-father. He also loved Tracy, his sister. But loathed Frankie, Tracy's loutish boyfriend.

"They good and cold," the clerk called out as Curtis selected a Mountain Dew from the cooler.

"Yes ma'am," Curtis forced a smile to his face.

The clerk rang up the can of soda and waited.

"Oh, and give me one of them scratch-offs, please, the two dollar ones," Curtis politely asked.

"Why I like you, Honey, you nice and polite," the woman said and grabbed a ticket.

"Well, thank you, but manners don't cost anything," Curtis said.

To win, he needed to match three dollar amounts. The three dollar amounts could be up and down, side to side, or diagonally. Curtis Guzzled the soda, even swished the ice cold liquid around in his mouth, and removed the taste of Sam's manly essences from tongue and throat.

Then he sat on the curb in front of the store and, using a quarter, scratched off the covered portion of his ticket. His heart caught in his throat as he saw the fifty thousand dollar amount in the top two boxes.

"Oh shit!" he squealed when he saw that he had just won fifty thousand dollars.

"Anything over a hundred bucks? Need go to the courthouse redeem it," the clerk said when Curtis scampered back into the convenience store.

"Oh, okay," Curtis said.

"And need be at least twenty one. Why, how much you win?" the woman asked.

"Uh, five hundred," Curtis lied.

Curtis knew, if he asked his mother to redeem the ticket, she and Glen would demand the lion's share of the winnings. After all, he was living, rent free, in their trailer.

"Uh huh, but it's me does all the housework, most of the cooking," Curtis thought. "Might as well be Cinderella, I swear."

Tracy was delighted to see her beautiful baby brother. She'd been six when their mother had announced that she was going to be a big sister. From that moment on, Tracy had dashed home from school every day and asked if her baby brother or baby sister had come yet. When Curtis Arnold Brown did finally arrive, he was the most loved baby in the world. Tracy had made sure to learn as many songs as she could, as many nursery rhymes as she could and chattered nonstop to the little bundle.

"What you want, faggot?" Frankie sneered as Curtis entered the trailer.

"Frankie!" Tracy spat at her boyfriend. "What'd I tell you 'bout that shit, huh?"

"Whatever," Frankie belched.

Curtis showed Tracy the winning scratch-off, and promised her half if she'd redeem the ticket for him. Frankie snatched the ticket off the kitchen table and stuck it into the front of his jeans.

"No, Bitch, think I'll redeem it, keep it all," Frankie leered.

He thrust his crotch toward Curtis.

"GO ahead, try get it. Know you want to," Frankie guffawed.

Tracy brought the cast iron skillet down on Frankie's head with all her might. With an 'oof!' Frankie collapsed to the filthy linoleum floor of the trailer.

Tracy pulled the ticket from Frankie's blue jeans, made sure he was still breathing, then brought the cast iron skillet down on Frankie's kneecap.

"No, Tracy! You'll kill him!" Curtis begged as Tracy brought the skillet up for another blow.

"God damn sure the fuck want to," Tracy snarled.

She thrust the skillet into Curtis's hands. She yanked open a cupboard underneath the small sink and grabbed a few black plastic garbage bags. Then she marched to the rear of the trailer.

"Keep an eye on the ass hole," she ordered Curtis. "He moves? Brain him."

Frankie was just beginning to come to when Tracy dragged two garbage bags to the kitchen.

"You," she snarled, kicking Frankie's stomach with her tennis shoe. "Had enough of your macho cave man bullshit. I'm leaving, hear?"

"God damned fucking cunt, kill your fat ass," Frankie roared and tried to get to his feet.

His left leg gave out and he clattered heavily to the floor again. The pain was so intense he couldn't even scream out.

"Rent's due Tuesday, Loser, good luck paying it," Tracy snarled and marched toward the door. "Come on Curtis."

Abbie and Glen simply shrugged when Tracy and Curtis entered the trailer. Glen did cast an appreciative eye towards Tracy's chubby backside, nicely rounded breasts.

"Curtis and I got somewhere be," Tracy said and pulled her baby brother back out into the Lowenburg heat.

The courthouse did redeem the winning ticket, minus taxes. The local radio station broadcast the news; the disc jockey joked as he asked Tracy Brown if she remembered promising him half of the ticket should she win.

"Uh huh, and when was that?" Tracy smiled. "I must have me some of that Magnesia 'cause I sure don't remember that."

Tracy and Curtis went quickly to Lowenburg's brand of the Arkansas First National Bank and put forty thousand into Curtis's bank account. Tracy kept the four thousand, three hundred and twelve dollars left after taxes and put it into her own meager account. Then she made sure to impress upon the teller, then the bank manager that Frankie Stiller was to have no access to her account.

Listening to the radio broadcast, Frankie remembered why he had a splitting headache that no amount of beer seemed to chase away. Tracy's fruit loop little brother had come over, lisping and simpering that he'd one fifty thousand dollars.

"God damn mother fucker yeah!" Frankie laughed out loud.

He got to his feet; four cans of beer necessitated he empty his bladder. He gasped out loud when his knee jerked and spasmed and he hobbled to the bathroom.

"Bitch ain't here," he thought and lifted the toilet seat.

Then he realized, as bad as head and knee were hurting, sitting would actually be more comfortable. But to show Tracy he didn't give a damn about her, he refused to flush.

"Fifty thousand, fifty fucking thousand dollars. Shit! Know what we could do with that?" Frankie laughed again and opened another beer.

Then he called his buddies Po-Dog and Adam. The two men agreed to come over at once.

"Fifty, damn!" Po-Dog whistled.

"And uh, hey, since y'all ain't dating Tracy no more, it all right I get some of that ass?" Adam asked.

A glare from Frankie silenced the idiot's question.

"So, go ahead, give her a call," Po-Dog nodded toward the phone.

"Hang on, we holding him hostage, shouldn't he be all tied up and shit?" Adam asked.

"God damn, your momma drop you on your head? We ain't really holding me hostage, dumb ass," Frankie snapped.

"Yeah, Momma dropped him and Daddy said looked like fun so picked him up and dropped him again," Po-Dog snickered.

"Fuck both of y'all," Adam snapped.

"Hello?" Tracy asked.

"Hey Baby, listen, it's me," Frankie said, putting on his most pitiful, whining voice.

"Aw, what's the matter huh?" Tracy played along.

"Honey, listen, there's these two guys here? They heard about you winning that money and they holding me hostage," Frankie begged.

"Oh no! Oh Sweetheart! Hey, put me on speaker, okay?" Tracy gasped.

"That's the round button, huh?" Frankie asked, forgetting to sound frightened.

"Uh huh," Tracy said and waited. "Okay, I'm on speaker?"

"That's right Bitch, you on speaker," Po-Dog barked, sounding menacing. "Fifty thou or your boy getting it, feel me?"

"Uh huh," Tracy smirked, recognizing Po-Dog's voice.

"Baby please," Frankie whined.

"Okay, y'all listen up," Tracy said. And uh, Po-Dog? Call me 'bitch' again and I will slap the living shit out of you, feel me?"

"God damn bitch! Half that money's mine! Called communal property," Frankie screamed.

"That's community property and it only applies if we're married, shit head," Tracy laughed and hung up.

"Man, Frankie! Hate having kill you, dude," Adam said sadly.

"Jesus, Adam, your momma did drop you on your head," Po-Dog said.

Hitting the 'End' button on her phone, Tracy realized, sooner or later, Frankie would remember, it had not been her ticket but her baby brother's ticket. As soon as he remembered that, he would send Po-Dog and most likely that brain dead Adam after Curtis. She left her bedroom and cross the hall to Curtis's room.

"Sweetheart, listen, you need to run," Tracy said sadly.

JimBob44
JimBob44
5,055 Followers