Conflict-an Ending

Conflict - An Ending

Jesse sliced off his penis with such a quick violent motion-and the knife was so sharp-that it was dangling by its head in his hand before the pain hit, but when it did, it was excruciating. He screamed, then swooned, striking his head on the bathtub as he fell. Blood streamed from his groin, running between his legs, puddling around his butt, which was pressed to the floor.

When he was awakened by Jesse’s scream, it took a moment for Jerry to remember where he was. He looked over, expecting to see Jesse in bed beside him, but Jesse’s side of the bed was empty.

“Jesse-where are you, man?” There was no answer. “Hey, Dude. Was that a scream that woke me up? Are you O.K.?”

Jerry called to Jesse a few more times, but there was no answer, so he reluctantly got out of bed. Seeing the light shining under the door of the bathroom which connected to Jesse’s room, he went to the door, opened it, to find Jesse lying on the floor, blood pouring from his crotch, pooling under him on the floor. Jesse’s cock, having flown from his hand when he fell, was lying on the floor next to the toilet. The knife was about a foot from Jesse’s right hand. Stepping carefully to avoid the blood, Jerry reached down, took hold of Jesse’s shoulder, and shook him.

“Wake up, Jesse. What the fuck did you do, Dude. Wake up,” but Jesse, having received a concussion from striking his head on the tub, remained unconscious. Jerry panicked. He thought about calling 911, but, because of his distrust of the cops, didn’t want to take the chance of getting blamed for what had happened to Jesse-if Jesse died, they might accuse him of cutting Jesse. The cops, after all, knew Jerry. He had been in their custody more than once; so, he called Roger.

When Roger, awakened, answered the phone with a growl, Jerry said, “Hey, man-fuck-Jesse cut himself; I mean he cut off his cock; there’s blood everywhere; what the fuck am I going to do? And, I can’t wake him up; I don’t know if he’s dead, or what.”

“Wait-what? Slow down; is this Jerry? What about Jesse?”

“Shit, man. He cut off his cock. He’s lying on the floor in the bathroom all covered in blood.”

“He cut off his cock? Why? What the fuck did you do. What’s your part in all this?”

“Hell, we had sex-like you wanted us to have. I know you wanted me to break Jesse in for you, but hell, I thought he liked it. He must have cum about ten times; but, he did get a little weird afterward. He went on about not being queer and all that.”

“Well, I guess you’d better call 911,” suggested Roger.

“Not me. I’m gonna book. You do what you want, but I’m leaving.”

Jerry hung up the phone in the middle of Roger’s protest, went back into the bedroom, grabbed his clothes, dressed hurriedly, and walked through the kitchen toward the back door, but, as he passed the counter, he saw the $150 that Richard had left Jesse, picked it up and placed it in his pocket. Then, thinking that there might be something else of value, he went to Richard’s room where he found-and took-Richard’s spare Rolex, and some of Jesse’s mom’s jewelry, which included a large diamond ring. He emptied Richard’s briefcase, and stuffed it with his loot, after which, he quickly returned to Jesse’s room to grab some of Jesse’s clothes. He had no intention of returning home. He had enough of San Jose. The $150 would get him to LA, where, if everything went well, he could sell the watch and jewelry, and ,when the money from that was gone-he would sell himself.

Roger started to call 911 himself, but thought that he should first see for himself what had really happened at Jesse’s house, besides, he wasn’t sure of the address; he’d been there; he knew how to find the place, but he wasn’t sure of the house number. Previously, Jerry had directed him to the house. Roger quickly dressed and sped over to Jesse’s house. It took him about fifteen minutes.

When Roger tried to open the front door, he found that it was locked, and no one answered his knock, so he ran around to the back. The back door was standing open as Jerry had left it. Roger ran through the kitchen into the hall. The light was on in both Jesse’s and Richard’s bedrooms, but Roger knew which was Jesse’s room. He went through the room to the bathroom beyond. Jesse was still unconscious on the floor. The pool of blood beneath him had grown substantially. Roger tried, but couldn’t wake him. He determined that Jesse still had a pulse, although it was weak. Quickly searching through the house, he found a first aid kit under the sink in Richard’s bathroom and taped a large gauze pad to Jesse’s crotch, applying enough pressure to impede, if not staunch, the flow of blood. Picking up the phone, Roger started to call 911, but, being afraid that they wouldn’t arrive in time, picked up Jesse-and his cock-off the floor, placed them in his car, and raced for the nearest hospital. By the time he arrived, Jesse’s breathing was ragged.

The emergency room receptionist looked up to see a man, apparently in his thirties, carrying a naked adolescent boy. A blood soaked bandage was taped to the boy’s crotch. Blood stained the front of the man’s clothes.

“Quick,” he said. “He’s lost a lot of blood. Hurry, or he going to die.”

It was obvious, even to the receptionist that the boy was close to death, so she buzzed open the door and directed Roger to take Jesse into one of the emergency rooms. She didn’t even make him fill out the forms first. A doctor and two nurses, in response to the receptionist’s summons, met him at the door. “Put him down on the bed,” said the doctor, directing Roger to one of emergency rooms. “What happened to him?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. Somehow, he cut off his penis. Here it is,” Roger said, opening his hand. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”

“Some plasma-stat,” yelled the doctor, “and get his blood typed.”

“Can you sew his penis back on?” asked Roger.

“I don’t know. We’ll do what we can, but, for now, our priority is trying to save his life. For now, I’m going to need you to go back out to the lobby, so that we can work. You’ll need to give some information to the receptionist.” He placed Jesse’s cock in a saline solution.

When Roger went back out to the receptionist, she asked, “What is the patient’s name?”

“Uh-Jesse McCartney.”

“Do you have insurance, Mr. McCartney?”

“I’m not Mr. McCartney.”

“What’s your relationship to the boy, Mr.-uh...?”

“Nelson-Roger Nelson. He’s a friend.”

“Where’s his parents, Mr. Nelson, and do you know if they have insurance?”

“Look-I don’t know if they have any fucking insurance. If need be, I’ll pay for it; but his father is well off. I’m sure that he must have insurance. He’s in Acapulco for a few days. The boy’s mother is dead.”

After asking Roger to wait in the lobby-because of the nature of Jesse’s injury and the question of Roger’s relationship to Jesse, the receptionist phoned the police and asked a security guard to keep his eye on Roger. He was seated there, leafing through a magazine, when two uniformed police officers walked up to him a short time later. “Mr. Nelson?” one of them asked.

“Yes, I’m Roger Nelson.”

“Could I talk to you over here?” the cop asked, indicating with a nod of his head the hall outside of the lobby.

Roger had avoided the scrutiny of the police, despite his having sex with pubescent boys; now, because of a boy that he hadn’t even fucked, he was being questioned by the police. He wondered what it was about this boy that had motivated him to take such risks. Jesse was handsome-yes, even hot-but it was more than that; Jesse had vulnerability-even innocence-that none of the street kids had, and, intelligence, which was evident whenever he spoke, although he attempted to hide it by imitating the speech of his peers, .

When Roger and the two cops had reached the hallway, the officer said, “What happened here, Mr. Nelson?”

“I’m not exactly sure. Jesse cut off his penis, either by accident or on purpose. I don’t know; I wasn’t there.”

“If you weren’t there, how did you happen to bring him to the hospital?”

“I got a call from a boy who had been spending the night with Jesse. He told me that Jesse had been injured-and I knew Jesse’s father wasn’t home-so, I went over there.”

“Where’s the other boy?”

“I don’t know. He wasn’t at Jesse’s house by the time I got there.”

“What’s the other boy’s name?”

“Jerry Polanski, or something like that. Some Polish or Russian sounding name. I could never keep it straight. I always just call him by his first name.”

“And, how do you know these boys,” asked the cop, suspiciously.

“Oh, I’ve know Jerry for quite awhile. I don’t even remember where I first met him, but I only met Jesse yesterday. He’s a friend of Jerry’s. Jerry introduced him to me. Jesse’s father had left him at home alone for the holidays. I had them over for Thanksgiving dinner.”

“What else went on at your house while the boys were there?”

Not appreciating the cop’s tone, or where this line of questioning was leading, Roger replied, “We watched football on TV, for Christ’s sake; my mom was there the whole time. You can ask her what went on, if you like.”

“All right, Mr. Nelson. Don’t get upset. We’re just attempting to find out what happened. We’ve got an injured kid, one that might die-a kid who has received what might be considered a sexual injury. It’s our responsibility to investigate all possibilities. Now, you say this happened at the victim’s house?”

“Yes-that’s what I said,” replied Roger, curtly.

“Would you ride out there with us, Mr. Nelson?”

“Must I? I’m worried about Jesse. I hate to leave the hospital until I know he’s going to be all right.”

“There’s really nothing that you can do here, for now, and we might need to ask you some additional questions when we get to the house. You say that there’s no one there, right?”

“Unless Jerry’s come back, there probably isn’t. I think Jesse’s father supposed to be gone until Sunday or Monday. O.K., I’ll go, but I want to check on Jesse first.”

“The cops wondered at Roger’s concern about a kid he had only just met, and were suspicious of Roger’s involvement with the two boys. One of them went to the patrol car to run a computer check-which turned up nothing-on Roger, while the other walked with Roger to the receptionist.

When Roger inquired about Jesse, the receptionist phoned the emergency room. A few minutes later, a nurse came out to the lobby.

“How’s Jesse?” Roger asked.

“He’s stabilized somewhat, but isn’t out of danger yet. There’s a head injury as well that worries us. We’re waiting for the cat scan to come back now.”

“What about his penis? Are they going to be able to reattach it?”

“Possibly. They’re taking him up to surgery now, but it’s too early to tell.”

After checking on Jesse, Roger went with the two officers to the patrol car, where they placed him in the back seat. He felt trapped since there was a barrier between the front seat, where the cops were, and the back seat where he was seated. The back doors couldn’t be opened from the inside. He directed them to Jesse’s house.

Since he had exited by the front door, it was open, so they entered the house by it. The covers on Jesse’s bed were turned down revealing the multiple semen stains that were on the bottom sheet. The cops immediately looked at Roger, inquisitively. “Look,” said Roger. I wasn’t here. I don’t know what happened.”

The officers went to the bathroom door. At the edge of the puddle of blood, which covered much of the floor, was the hunting knife. “All right,” one of them said. “Let’s back out of here carefully. This is a possible crime scene. The detectives and the forensic boys will want to have a look at it. We need to seal it off until we find out what happened here. Mr. Nelson, we’d like for you to come downtown with us. The detectives will want to ask you some questions.”

“Am I under arrest?”

“No, Sir-at least not if you come along voluntarily.”

Roger rode along to the station with the officers. Although he regretted having come to the notice of the police, he realized that, if he hadn’t taken Jesse to the hospital, the boy would be dead. For some reason, unknown even to Roger, he was more concerned about Jesse than he was about himself.

After Roger was left alone in an interrogation room, he looked at what he supposed was a two way mirror, wondering who was on the other side watching him. A detective, along with the two officers that brought Roger to the station were observing him while they discussed the case.

“All right, tell me about this case,” instructed Detective Morales.

“This guy took a fifteen year-old boy to the emergency room. Someone cut off the kid’s cock; the kid might have done it himself; this guy might have done it; or, someone else might have done it. This guy, Nelson, said that a kid named Jerry was involved, but we haven’t been able to run him down yet,” replied Officer Gipson, who, along with Officer Simms, had brought Roger in. “A hunting knife was on the bathroom floor next to a pool of blood. Oh-also, it looked like someone had an orgy in the kid’s bed. There were semen stains all over the sheets, and the hospital reported that there were semen stains all over the kid. His anus was dilated, too. Someone’s been fucking him.”

“How’s the kid doing?” asked Morales.

“When we last checked, they had him stabilized, but he was still unconscious. Apparently he has a concussion from a blow to the head. That’s another reason we suspect foul play,” answered Gipson.

“Yeah, Detective Johnson and two of the forensic guys are on the way to the kid’s house to check it out now. Anything on Nelson?” asked Morales.

“No, he’s clean,” answered Simms, who had run the check, “but, the whole thing is fishy.”

“O.K., I’m going in to talk to the guy. Let me know you hear anything from the team at the house, of from the hospital. Have we got someone out there in case the kid wakes up?”

“Yeah,” said Gipson. “We’ve got an officer out there.”

Roger turned his head from the mirror to look toward the door when Morales opened it and walked into the room.

“Hi, Mr. Nelson; My name is Detective Morales.”

Roger half stood up from his chair to shake hands with Morales; then he had to go through the whole story again.

“So you only met this kid on Wednesday?”

“Yes, I just told you that, and I told it to the other cops. He’s a friend of this kid, Jerry, that I know. His dad took off for the holidays, leaving the kid alone, so I invited him to my house for Thanksgiving. There were other kids over as well. My mom always fixes a big dinner each year, and we invite people-a lot of them kids-over-kids that wouldn’t otherwise have a Thanksgiving dinner.”

“And this kid, Jerry, called you, when, as you say, the kid cut himself? Why did he call you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he had no one else he could trust. I don’t think he and his parents are close at all. Maybe it was because they had just left my house, and I was the first person he thought of.”

“What about the cum stains all over the bed? If we do a DNA test, are we going to find your DNA in those stains?”

“Hell no. I don’t know anything about what happened over there. Maybe Jesse and Jerry got it on. Do a DNA test. In fact, I insist that you do. You’re not going to find mine in any of those stains.”

After a few more questions, Morales said, “O.K., Mr. Nelson, if you’ll just hang tight in here, we’ll get back to you in a few minutes. He left Roger to go back into the adjoining room where Gipson and Simms had been observing and listening to the conversation.

“What do you boys think?” he asked.

“Shit, I don’t know.” answered Gipson. “Either the guys a saint, or it’s just a new way of trolling for fresh meat. Actually, I’d opt for his being a predator, but-being a cop-I think that everyone’s a perp. How long are we going to hold this guy?”

“I guess we’re going to have to cut him loose pretty soon, but I’d like to hear from the boys at the house first to see if they found anything. Oh-the guy volunteered to submit a DNA sample. Simms, take a swab in to get a sample from him, please. See if he’ll let you print him, too.”

When Simms came back in, he said, “I got the DNA sample, but he said that we’d have to arrest him to get his fingerprints.”

After another hour, the team from the house returned to the station. Finding that the fingerprints on the knife matched those that they had taken from Jesse at the hospital, they decided to let Roger go, instructing him, however, not to leave town. Gipson and Simms took him back to the hospital, where he’d left his car. When he checked on Jesse, they told him that he was still unconscious. He didn’t think to ask if they’d been able to reattach his penis. Since there was nothing else he could do, and discovering that they wouldn’t allow him to see Jesse, Roger drove home. He had difficulty sleeping that night, wondering about the boy. When he called the next day, the hospital refused to give him any information since he wasn’t related to Jesse.

It was Saturday morning before Jesse recovered consciousness. Although he was dazed and confused, it was obvious to him that he was in a hospital. The pain in his crotch reminded him of what he’d done. Raising his sheet and pulling up the hospital gown, he looked at his crotch, but it was swathed in bandages. He had cut off his cock. It had seemed to be a solution to his problems that night; now he realized that it wasn’t. If he was gay, he was still a gay kid, but one without a penis. Even having sex with Roger wouldn’t be as bad as going through life with no cock. Tears came to his eyes as he thought about that night. He supposed that Jerry must have called 911. Jesse pressed the call button. When the nurse discovered that he was awake, she placed a call for his doctor.

“Good morning, Jesse,” he said as he entered the room. “I’m Dr. Neumann. I’m your doctor. How are we feeling this morning?”

“It hurts. I...I cut off my cock.”

“Actually, we were able to reattach it. It’ll take some time to find out how well it’ll work, and what kind of feeling you’ll have in it, but I think that you’ll have a penis. Do you want to tell me about it. Was it an accident?”

“No...no it wasn’t an accident. I meant to do it, but I wish now that I hadn’t. I’m glad that you were able to put it back on.”

“Where are your parents, Jesse?”

“My mom...my mom is dead...and my dad is in Acapulco with his girl friend.”

“He left you here by yourself?”

“Yeah. He doesn’t give a shit about me.”

“I’m sure that that’s not the case. I’m sure that he loves you. Do you know how we can get in touch with him?”

“He left me some money on the counter in the kitchen. I think he also left the name of the hotel.”

Shortly after Dr. Neumann left Detective Morales came into Jesse’s room.

“Hi, Jesse. I’m Detective Morales. How are you feeling?”

“I’m O.K. I guess.”

“Can you tell me what happened, Jesse?”

Jesse was embarrassed. He didn’t want to tell another stranger, this time a cop, that he had cut off his own cock. “I...I had an accident.”

“You accidentally cut off your penis-or did someone else cut it off?”

“No, I cut it off-all right? No one else had anything to do with it. Jerry didn’t do anything.” He supposed that Morales was implying that Jerry might have done something to him.

“What about Roger Nelson? Did he have anything to do with it?”

“Roger? Why are you asking me about Roger. He wasn’t even there.”

“He’s the one that brought you to the hospital.”

“Roger brought me? What about Jerry?”

We haven’t been able to find Jerry. What’s his last name, and do you know where he lives?”

Jesse answered before he thought that he might be snitching on Jerry. He was confused. How come Roger had taken him to the hospital? What had happened to Jerry? “Kowalski. 3521 Pine St.”

Jesse was even more embarrassed when Morales asked, “Who did you have sex with that night, Jesse?”

His face red, he looked down, said quietly, “Jerry.”

“You want to tell me about it, Jesse? Did something happen that made you want to cut off your penis?”

“No-I don’t want to fucking talk about it. Go away. Leave me alone.”

“Are you sure that Roger Nelson had nothing to do with this?”

“No, I told you. Roger wasn’t even there. I hardly even know him. I just had Thanksgiving dinner at his house. I don’t know why he brought me to the hospital.”

“Well, I guess you’re lucky he did. You probably would have died otherwise.”

“Jerry didn’t call 911?”

“No. I guess he called Roger.”

When it was obvious that he wasn’t going to get anything more out of Jesse, Morales left the hospital to drive to the address Jesse had given him. It was the address of a ramshackle duplex. Trash littered the front yard. A man in a dirty white T Shirt, his belly hanging over his belt and a beer can in his hand, opened the door. “What do you want?” he asked.

“I’m looking for Jerry Kowalski. Does he live here?”

“Are you a cop? Yeah, you’re a cop. What did the little shit do now? I haven’t seen him. He hasn’t been home for three days.”

“He’s your kid?”

“Yeah-but he’s no good. I hope the little bastard doesn’t come back. What did he do?”

“We just want to talk to him. Call us if he shows up,” Morales said, giving him his card.

By the time the police found the note with the name of the hotel where Richard was staying-when Jerry grabbed the money it had fallen to the floor-he had already left. Feeling guilty about leaving Jesse home alone, he and Cheryl left Acapulco early. He called from the airport, but there was no answer. When he got home he found a message to call the police and the hospital. He called the hospital first. He rushed down there when he found out that his son was a patient. When he stormed up to the desk to ask to see Jesse, he was asked to wait. Jesse’s doctor wanted to talk to him first. Luckily Dr. Neumann arrived quickly because Richard was loudly demanding to see his son. Neumann took him into an office to talk.

“Where’s my son? Where’s Jesse? Is he all right?” asked Richard, almost screaming.

“Easy, Mr. McCartney. He’s going to be O.K. I’ll take you to see him in a minute. I just need to give you some information first.”

“What’s wrong. Was there an accident? What happened to him?”

“Well, uh...Mr. McCartney. He cut off his penis-but...”

“He what? He cut off his penis? How did that happen? You mean that he no longer has a penis?”

“No-no, Mr. McCartney. I was trying to tell you that we were able to reattach it. We won’t be able to tell for some time whether or not it will be fully functional, but it looks like it will survive. Blood is flowing to it, and color is returning.”

“How did it happen? Some kind of an accident?”

“No, from what I understand, I think that he did it deliberately.”

“You mean that he meant to cut off his own penis? Why would he do that? But, how could this happen? Why didn’t someone stop it from happening?”

“I don’t know, Mr. McCartney. Why did you leave him home alone?” Neumann couldn’t resist getting that dig in.

“Can I see Jesse?”

“Yes, but go easy on him. Don’t ask him too many questions. He already had to talk to the police.”

Jesse’s face brightened when he first saw his father, but he almost immediately withdrew.

“Jesse, what happened? Are you O.K.?” asked Richard.

“What do you care?” answered Jesse.

“Don’t be like that, Jesse. Of course I care. You’re my son.”

“No, all you care about are those bimbos you’ve been fucking. If you’d cared about me, you wouldn’t have gone away on Thanksgiving. That was my first holiday without Mom-and you left me alone to go off with that slut, Cheryl.”

“Is that why you...uh...cut off your penis?”

“Well...that wasn’t all...Jerry...”

“Jerry? I knew that little son of a bitch was involved. What the fuck did he do?” Richard yelled.”

“It wasn’t all Jerry. Oh, what’s the use? You never listen.”

“I warned you about that creep, Jerry.”

“Fuck you...FUCK YOU. If you’d been at home, nothing would have happened. If anyone is responsible, it’s you. You left me. I was hurting. I missed Mom. I’ve been hurting ever since she died, and you’ve never been there for me. Sometimes I wish I were dead, too.”

“But, don’t you realize that I miss her, too?”

“Well, you’ve got a hell of a way to show it-fucking every slut you can.” He turned away, facing the wall, refusing to talk any more to Richard.

When Richard returned home he called Detective Morales, who had left his card with the note to call at Richard’s house. Morales told him that he would be right out. When he arrived they sat in the living room to talk.

“Jesus,” said Richard. I just looked at Jesse’s room. There’s blood all over the bathroom floor, and where’s his covers? His bed’s been stripped.”

“The bedding is down at the station. We took it for evidence.”

“Evidence, why? I thought that he cut off his penis in the bathroom.”

“He had sex with someone in his bed. We were trying to determine with whom it might be.”

“He had sex? You mean-with a girl?”

“No. His anus was dilated. Someone had intercourse with him, using his anus as a receptacle.”

“Some guy fucked my son. Are you trying to tell me that my son is a queer?”

“I don’t know about that, but your son had homosexual sex with someone. Do you know if he’s been with any adult men?”

“No-why do you ask?”

Well, a kid named Jerry Kowalski spent the night with him, and Kowalski is little better than a male hooker. He’s been picked up before for soliciting.”

“Are you suggesting that my son paid this Jerry for sex? They’ve been friends for a while, even though I never liked the kid.”

“I don’t know whether you son paid for it, or not, but there was a lot of sex going on in your son’s bed. Do you know an adult named Roger Nelson?”

“No, I never heard of him. Why, was he involved?”

“We don’t know. None of the semen stains on the bed matched his DNA. Some matched your son’s, and one other person’s DNA was present. We suspect that it was Jerry’s. Roger Nelson took your son to the hospital. Apparently the boys had Thanksgiving dinner at his house. You’ve never seen any signs that your son was soliciting for sex? Any unexplained money, or anything like that? Any drug use?”

“He doesn’t need any money. I buy him anything that he needs.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you do. Sometimes kids need more than just money.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing. Never mind. Have you checked your house? Is anything missing? I know I wouldn’t trust Jerry Kowalski in my house.”

When Richard came back into the living room later, he said, “My Rolex is missing and some of my wife’s jewelry is gone.”

“Well, make us out a list. We haven’t been able to find Jerry. He’s not at home and his friends either don’t know where he is, or won’t tell us.”

“What about this Roger Nelson. Is he involved?”

“We don’t know. There’s no evidence that he was. He may just be a good Samaritan. Morales again left his card with Richard.

After two weeks, after they removed the catheter from his penis, Jesse was allowed to come home. The hospital suggested counseling for him. Richard tried to be a father, but, without ever having experience at being one, wasn’t successful. At least he no longer brought women home.

A few months later, after he was sixteen, Jesse caught the bus over to Roger’s house. He hadn’t seen him since Thanksgiving. The mustang was in the driveway, restored to its cherry condition. When he answered the door, Roger was shocked to see Jesse standing there.

“Jesse, how are you? They told me that you had left the hospital, but they would never tell me anything else about you. Come in.”

When they were seated in the living room, Roger said, “Well, you’re looking good. How’s your...uh...?” he asked glancing at Jesse’s crotch.

“My cock?...Well, they reattached it, and it works. It even gets hard. It doesn’t have as much feeling as it used to, but I guess, if it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t have one at all-and I probably wouldn’t be alive. I wanted to come by to thank you. If you still want me, if you still want to have sex with me, you can.”

“You don’t have to have sex with me, Jesse.”

“My cock really doesn’t look that bad. It’s bent a little to the side, but it’s not that much different, look,” he said as he dropped his shorts. His penis, erect, was bent a little to the left.. “If you don’t want my cock, you can fuck me in the ass.”

“It’s not that, Jesse. Your cock is fine. It’s just that I don’t want you to think that you have to repay me with sex.”

“You know-one of the reasons that I cut off my cock was to avoid having sex with you, but now I want to. I want to have sex with you.”

“Well, that’s something we can discuss later, Jesse. For now, let me teach you how to drive the mustang. Are you sixteen yet? Maybe I’ll give it to you for your eighteenth birthday. With his arm around Jesse’s shoulder, they walked out to the car.