Chapter 1

Eddie Granger stood on the muddy shoulder of the highway, a miserable expression on his face as the rain fell steadily, pounding the fields and open country on both sides of the road. He was soaked through and through, yet he wore a curiously pleased expression on his face despite the rain and the bone-chilling wind. His wide, expressive dark eyes flashed with his excitement, and his smooth adolescent cheeks were tinted with color from the wind as well as from eagerness.

Just a few hundred miles more to San Francisco, he thought. Just a little while longer and I'll be with my mother, where I belong.

Then suddenly a horrible feeling of frustration came over him, because he realized it had been a long time since a car had passed, and he had been certain that he would easily have found a ride at least into Reno and maybe further if only some cars would come along. There had been only a huge oil truck and a little old lady in a 1947 Ford, who gave Eddie a disapproving look as she whizzed by, during the entire time the boy had been standing there.

Eddie Granger was a clean-cut youth with dark hair that fell lankly over his forehead, but in blue jeans and with a knapsack on his back, he knew a lot of drivers would take him for a hippy and be reluctant to offer a ride. He also hoped that none of the people who offered him a ride would guess his age, which was fourteen, and call the authorities because he was a runaway. So far he'd been lucky. He was tall for his age and well built, but he had just recently begun shaving and only needed to do it twice, a week or so.

Standing there in his rain-soaked clothes on the deserted highway, a feeling of defeat suddenly came over him causing tears to well up in his eyes along with a bleak feeling of fear in his heart... What if his mother didn't really want him... What if she sent him back home to his Dad? He pushed the thoughts from his mind and sat down on his back pack, elbows on knees and face in hands.

It was growing late now, almost two o'clock, and he feared that he might still be stranded on this desolate stretch of highway when darkness fell. Then, just as he was about to give up, he heard the unmistakeable hum of an engine in the distance.

Finally the car appeared on the horizon. It was a sleek, silver-grey Mercedes travelling at a terrific rate of speed. Eddie's'hopes rose when he saw it had California license plates, but then his heart sank, for it was not slowing down at all. It was occupied by two people, an extremely handsome middle-aged man and an attractive blonde sitting close by his side. At first it seemed they would race on by without even giving him a glance, but at the last moment the car's blonde female passenger caught sight of Eddie and smiled at him, nudging against her male companion's shoulder to draw his attention to the stranded teenage boy.

Eddie saw the twin brake-lights flash red as the powerful automobile slowed to a halt several hundred yards down the highway. Heaving a long sigh of relief, he watched the Mercedes begin to back slowly towards him. After gathering up his backpack and tightly rolled sleeping bag, the bedraggled youngster ran smiling towards the car, thankful and happy but not altogether convinced that the couple would not change their minds and tear off without him.

At last the distinguished-looking car drew abreast of him and the door flew open.

"Hey, you poor kid, you're dripping wet from head to foot," the blonde said warmly. "Come on, just squeeze in beside me."

"And you can throw your gear in the back seat," the man told him. "Welcome aboard!"

"Wow, thanks. Thanks a whole lot," Eddie told them, sliding in beside the woman. And suddenly he was very aware of the heat of her body beside him. He looked over at the woman and thought, she's really pretty.

She was about his mother's age, Eddie figured, but there was something more worldly about her. And what a body! Holy Shit! It was all Eddie could do to keep his eyes from her large firm breasts which strained nakedly against the thin material of her tight blouse.

"Where are you heading," the man asked.

"San Francisco," Eddie answered, feeling guilty for admiring his wife.

"Well, so are we," the blonde smiled warmly.

"Do you know anyone there?" the man asked, looking at Eddie as if he suspected something was wrong.

"Uh-huh... I'm going to see my mother actually."

"Oh, does she live in San Francisco?"

"She lives out side the city in Mill Valley," he answered.

"Well, that's interesting. So do we," the man told him. "Let me introduce myself. I'm Carl Bradley and this is my wife, Cindy."

"I'm Eddie Granger. My mom's name is Lily... uh, Lily Granger. She makes jewelry or something like that."

"How long are you going to be staying with her, Eddie?"

"I... I'm not sure," the boy answered hesitantly. His delight at finding a ride all the way to his final destination was changing to concern as the truth of his situation came home to him.

"Oh?" said Carl, lifting an eyebrow.

"Well, you see... I mean, well... my mother doesn't exactly know I'm coming and I'm going to sort of surprise her."

"And it depends on which direction her surprise takes, the length of time you'll be staying," Carl said. "Is that right?"

"Well, sort of," he answered hesitantly.

The woman laughed softly, but in a conspiratorial kind of way and her eyes met Eddie's for just a brief moment, then flickered away. "Running away, huh?"

Eddie studied the voluptuous woman and the man for a long moment, trying to decide whether or not to confide in them. Then he decided he needed a couple of friends, someone he could maybe crash with if things didn't work out with his mother. After all, he hadn't seen her in almost two years now, since she had visited New York. And they had had dinner and a wonderful time walking and talking, until his father refused to let her see him any longer and she had gone back to California. His father...

Eddie's mouth twisted bitterly and he looked squarely into Cart's sympathetic face. "It's my father I'm running away from," he said. "That... that son of a bitch!"

"That's pretty strong language, Eddie."

"Not in this case, it isn't," the handsome teenager flared. "That's exactly what he is -- a son of a bitch! He treated me like dirt, not like a son. I had to be his goddamn slave, practically, and live by all these prison rules like being home at eight o'clock every night, even on the weekends, and not having dates with girls because he said I'm too young and not being allowed to hang out with my friends because he didn't like them... Boy, he was just ridiculous. He was always saying it wasn't right to touch a girl until you were married and stupid stuff like that."

Carl and Cindy looked at each other with just the slightest suggestion of a smirk on their lips.

"Well, he sounds pretty uptight," Cindy said.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. But what else could I do. He had custody of me even though I always liked my Mom better. She and I have been writing to each other every week, you know, and my Dad never knew about that or he would have tried to stop it; she was sending out her letters to a friend's house so my father wouldn't find out. Anyway, she said I should stay with him until I was eighteen and of a legal age to go out on my own; that it was no use in asking for trouble by running away or anything like that."

"From what you say," Carl observed, "your father appears to hate your mother. Why is that?"

"Well, Mom's always been a kind of free spirit and Dad said she was unstable and... and," he looked down at his feet and blushed slightly, but was determined to continue, "they had a problem with sex, too."

"Sex?" echoed Cindy with great interest.

"Well, you see, my Dad would never make love to her..." Eddie blushed with the boldness of his words and lowered his eyes. "You know what I mean, don't you."

Oh, yes, Eddie, yes, Cindy thought. Every time I look at you, my pussy begins to tingle like crazy and I can picture what a beautiful sweet cock you must have and how much hot white delicious cum you must have saved up, never even being allowed to date girls. But she did not want to frighten the innocent young boy so she said gravely: "Yes, Eddie, I think I know what you mean. And I bet your mother is a really beautiful woman."

"Oh yes, she is," Eddie agreed eagerly, his eyes shining. Then his expression sobered. "That's the reason they were finally divorced, three years ago. I mean, she's not a bad woman or even wild, but my father just wasn't interested in sex -- or so he said."

"I think I understand," Carl said sympathetically. "Your mother has normal sex drives, requiring normal fulfillment, but your father considered her to be -- how shall I say it? -- a wicked woman. Is that right, Eddie?"

Eddie nodded emphatically. "Uh-huh," he said. "He told her she was perverted and a whore and a lot of other terrible things, and he wouldn't sleep in the bedroom with her for months and months. Finally, Mom couldn't take any more of it and she went out and... and..." Again, the handsome teenager blushed and turned his face away.

Even though Carl's smile was gentle and soothing on the outside, his thoughts were lewd and naked with mounting excitement internally, and he became more and more intrigued by Eddie's description of his mother. "She went out and found herself another man?" he asked softly.

"Y-yes," Eddie said.

"Perfectly natural," Cindy commented. "No man or woman can be constantly refused sexually and be expected to just passively allow hunger and frustration to eat away at them."

Eddie bobbed his head. "I understand that, and you two do, but do you think my father did? Oh no, not him! He found out mom was with this other guy, I don't know how but he did; and right away he filed for a divorce on the grounds of adultery. He could prove it, too, and so the judge gave him custody of me and mom didn't get any alimony or anything... It was awful!"

Carl clucked his tongue compassionately. "Now I see why your mother moved to California -- not only because it's cheaper there than in New York, but she was hurt and understandably bitter and wanted nothing more to do with the life style that had caused her troubles."

"I think so, too," Eddie agreed. "I can tell by her letters that she's still having kind of a hard time and that she's sort of lonely."

Carl cleared his throat to hide his increasing interest. "What prompted you to leave your father now, Eddie?" he asked. "Something must have or you wouldn't have hitchhiked all the way out here from New York unannounced. Do you want to tell me about it? It might help if you did.

"I... I don't really want to talk about it," Eddie replied, but he did. The entire episode was festering inside his impressionable young body like a cankerous sore, filling him with outrage and hurt and frustrated confusion, and he was near-bursting with the need to unburden himself. These two pleasant people, by their manner and understanding comments, had instilled in the teenage boy a sense of camaraderie and confidence; it would be easier to talk of what happened with them that it would be to talk about it to his mother. If he told his new friends first and got it all out in the open, the task of telling his mom would be that much simpler when the time came -- as he knew that it would as soon as he saw her.

He said: "Well... it's not very... not very nice."

Carl smiled reassuringly and Cindy touched his arm with the tips of her fingers. "You'll feel better if you tell us," she said.

"I... I guess so," Eddie said. "All right then. I..." He stopped, and then continued in a rush of words, "I came home from school one afternoon last week with this sore throat, and I just walked into the house without making any noise and he was there, my father, on the couch in the living room, with this woman I'd never seen before. They were naked... and, well, they were doing it, right there on the couch with my father on top and this crazy look on his face... and the woman, her... her breasts were bouncing up and down as she... as she..." Eddie's face burned furiously and his voice trailed off; he shuddered with the very real shock of the memory of what he had witnessed, how he had stood frozen watching the lewd tableau with his father and the woman unaware of his presence, and then finally he had turned and fled from the house...

Cindy and Carl wanted to burst out laughing. So the old boy was a goddamn hypocrite! Pretending to be so high and mighty holy while the whole time he was fucking around like Casanova -- and not allowing his wife or son any expression of their sexuality. Crazy nut! But they kept their faces impassive, and Cindy managed to put a look of shocked hurt in her eyes. She patted the boy's arm again, this time letting her long fingers linger on the smooth skin of his neck. "It must have been terrible for you, Eddie," she intoned.