Subject: The Hunters, chapter 16 The Hunters – Chapter 16 Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction which features sexual activity between teenage boys, as well as between teenage boys and adults. If you do not want to read such a story, or it is illegal for you to do so because of your age or where you live, then I recommend you go read something else instead. Feedback is very welcome. So, if you are enjoying this story, please do drop me an email at hoo If you can, please support Nifty with a financial donation – whatever you can afford – so that this archive of stories can remain free and available. Just go to fty/ *** Later that evening. After dinner, Jon sat in the hotel bar with Josh and the Americans, watching a dancing display. The bar was outside, beside a swimming pool. As the display reached its climax, the flamboyantly costumed dancers circled the pool, gyrating to the rhythm of pounding drums, while muscular men in thongs breathed fire over their heads, prompting thunderous applause from the audience. “Was that local dancing?” asked Madison, the Angelina Jolie lookalike. “Only if you live in Las Vegas,” Josh told her. Madison shrieked with laughter. “Have you been to Vegas?” asked Tyler, the girl’s brother. Josh nodded. “Where did you stay?” Tyler enquired. “Caesar’s Palace.” “Was that when Celine Dion was performing?” “Yes. We got 50% off the bill for damaged hearing.” Again Madison laughed. “So you’re not a Celine fan,” Tyler observed. “No. She’s nearly as bad as Justin Bieber. My brother’s boyfriend plays him all the time.” “I thought you’d split up?” Tyler asked Jon. Momentarily, Jon was confused. Josh, clearly realising what he’d said, mouthed the word `Sorry’. Jon smiled, indicating that it didn’t matter. “Yes, we have,” he said quickly. “I want to swim in the sea,” Madison announced. Tyler frowned. “Is that a good idea, Mads? You’ve had a lot to drink.” “Don’t be boring! We’re on holiday.” Madison tugged on Josh’s arm. “You’ll protect me, won’t you?” “Okay,” Josh replied. “But only against jellyfish. If Jaws turns up you’re on your own.” He rose to his feet. “Are you guys coming?” Jon shook his head, feeling woozy from too much rum. “My ankle’s still bad.” He turned to Tyler. “Though don’t let me stop you.” “I’m happy to stay.” The American lad smiled at him. “If you don’t mind, that is.” “Of course I don’t.” “Of course he doesn’t!” Madison cried, before dragging Josh away. A waiter brought more drinks. “I’m sorry about my sister,” Tyler said. “She can be quite full on.” They each took a sip of their drinks, before Tyler looked over his shoulder towards the beach. “You don’t need to worry,” Jon told him. “Josh is a great swimmer. He’ll look after her.” Tyler took another sip. “Like he looks after you?” “I guess.” “Why do you let him?” The question took Jon by surprise. “I don’t. Well, not consciously. It’s just that he’s the confident one.” “You seem pretty confident to me.” Jon gestured to his glass. “That might just be the alcohol.” “So why did your parents split you up? It seems hard, you being twins and all.” “Because neither of them wanted to be without us, I guess. And it wasn’t that hard. We used to see each other in the holidays.” “Tell me about your parents.” “They were the best.” “Were?” “Are. I just meant they were great when we were kids.” “Why did Josh stay with your mom? Kids generally need their mom more than their dad. If you were less confident, I’d have thought you’d be the one to stay with her.” Tyler’s questions were making Jon uncomfortable. “What is this? `Jonathan Wilson, This Is Your Life’?” Tyler frowned. “I thought your surname was Hunter.” “It is. I… Well, when I was at prep school there was another boy called Jonathan Hunter so to avoid confusion I used my mother’s maiden name instead.” “You should keep the name Wilson. It suits you.” “So does Hunter.” “Not as much.” “But that’s my name. Not that there’s anything wrong with the name Wilson. It’s just not who I really am.” Tyler was watching Jon closely. The American’s face was thin with angular features, intelligent eyes and a crooked nose. Jon remembered him saying he was studying psychology at university and felt suddenly exposed. He tried to change the subject. “So who’s the older one out of you and Madison?” “She is. By eleven months.” “Wow. So you’re almost like twins yourself.” Tyler rolled his eyes. “Kinda. It’s a pity she got the looks, leaving me with the brains.” “You look good too.” “Not like her, though.” “You’re different, that’s all. Like me and Josh.” “That’s hardly a good comparison.” “He’s better looking than me,” Jon explained. “But you could fix that. All it would take is losing a few pounds. For me it would take thousands of dollars on plastic surgery, what with this nose of mine.” “You don’t need to change anything,” Jon reassured him. “You’re great as you are.” “So are you. You’ve got more about you than your brother, and I don’t just mean the extra weight.” Again Jon felt uncomfortable. “That’s not true.” “I think it is.” “Josh has just as much about him as I do.” Tyler looked amused. “You don’t have to get so defensive. I’m just stating an opinion. I am allowed to have them, aren’t I?” Jon nodded. “I thought you’d be pleased,” Tyler went on. “Aren’t twins supposed to be competitive?” “We’re not.” Tyler didn’t answer. The look of amusement remained. “In spite of what you might think,” Jon added. The American held his hands up in a gesture of submission. “I’m only teasing. You’re easy to wind up. Not that that’s a bad thing. I only ever tease people I like.” Jon sipped his drink, feeling embarrassed. The dancers regrouped around the pool, prompting cheers from the other guests. “You’re right about Mads and me,” Tyler told him. “We are like twins. I understand her better than anyone. All her confidence is just an act. Underneath she’s really insecure. She needs everyone to like her. If they don’t, she feels diminished. It makes me sad. You can’t go through life like that. You’re only setting yourself up for a fall if you do.” “Have you told her that?” “More times than I can remember. Not that it does any good.” “Josh likes her. He really does.” “But lara kendi evi olan escort this is only a holiday fling. It’s okay, Jon. I understand that. I’ll make sure she does too.” “She’s lucky to have you.” “We’re lucky to have each other. Like you and Josh are.” Again Jon nodded. “I was watching you two earlier when you were playing pool,” Tyler explained. “Why?” “Why do you think?” Tyler’s gaze was direct. Jon felt himself blush. A drum began to beat, signalling that a new dance was about to begin. “Tell me about your ex?” Tyler asked. “What do you want to know?” “What he did that hurt you so much.” “Why do you think he hurt me?” “I can see it in your eyes.” Again they stand at each other. The American’s eyes were the same colour as Mike’s but colder, more predatory. “I’d rather not talk about it,” Jon said, quietly. “We don’t have to talk at all. There are other things we could do.” Jon gestured to his glass. “I think I’ve drunk enough.” “I didn’t mean that.” “Then what?” Tyler stroked his hand. “Do you need me to spell it out?” Jon sought refuge in humour. “Are all Americans as direct as you?” “I guess. Look, I like you Jon. I’d like to go to bed with you. I know it won’t go anywhere, but I don’t mind. I’m not like Madison. I’m not as weak as her. I don’t need you to like me back.” Jon shook his head. “Why not? It could be fun. You do find me attractive, don’t you?” Not wanting to hurt his feelings, Jon nodded. “So?” Tyler asked. “It’s just…” “That you don’t want to use me?” “Yes.” “Who says I wouldn’t be using you too?” “It’s still not right.” “We all use people.” “I don’t,” Jon said. “Sure you do.” Suddenly the American’s tone was harsh. “I don’t use people,” Jon insisted. “You might, but I don’t.” He rose to leave. “You’re not like your brother, then.” Tyler’s words stopped him in his tracks. “What do you mean?” “He’s using you.” “Crap.” “I watched you playing pool, remember.” “So?” “He has this swagger when the two of you are together. You make him feel strong. He likes that, just as he likes the fact you let him win. Because you did, didn’t you?” His eyes narrowed. “Why is that, Jon? Are you just trying to make him happy, or are you scared he’ll stop loving you if you don’t?” “You don’t have the first clue about our relationship.” Again Tyler laughed. “Poor little Jon. You’re the one who doesn’t have the slightest clue about how it really works between you and your precious twin.” “Maybe not, but one thing I do know is that screwing you won’t help me figure that out. But for your sake I hope Josh does screw Madison and then forgets about her. That way you get to feign sympathy while revelling in her pain, because that’s how it really works between you and your sister.” Tyler swallowed. Jon knew he had hit a nerve, and he was glad. Tyler threw what was left of his drink at Jon, staining his shirt. “I rest my case,” Jon told him, before walking away through the air that was full of the sound of drums and dancers’ cries. *** Dawn, the following day. Jon stood in his bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror. Tyler’s taunts echoed in his head. He tried to block them out too, but was unable to do so. A part of him couldn’t believe the American lad had said what he had. Everyone knew twins were a unit. If you fought one you fought both. He had seen that enough times in the schoolyard. Trying to turn one against the other was a futile exercise. The bond was just too strong. It was crazy to think otherwise. Unless that bond seemed artificial… He thought of the mistakes he had made, like referring to himself as Jon Wilson rather than Jon Hunter, adding fuel to the suspicions and that already burned inside Tyler. He had given him ammunition and he had used it. What was to stop others doing the same? What was to stop them doubting what he and Josh had was real? Until eventually Josh started to doubt it too. As all the while, William waited in the wings to steal Josh away. Just as once a car accident had stolen his family, and his cousin Nick had stolen his chance of finding another. But that wasn’t going to happen again. He wouldn’t let it. It wasn’t enough to call himself Jon Hunter. He had to become Jon Hunter. He had to become the person he should have been if he had had the life he was born to. The person who viewed his twinship not as a gift but as a birthright. Only then would he be safe. `How do I do it?’ he asked himself. `What should I do?’ He continued to stare at himself in the mirror, while, on a permanent loop, Tyler’s comments kept playing in his head. *** The same morning, Greater Manchester. Jennifer sat in her kitchen, staring at the email Josh had sent. It had arrived overnight. Angela had heard from him days ago, as had Olivia. Angela had mentioned it on the phone, clearly assuming she had heard from him too. Jennifer had made light of it, joking that her email must have gotten lost in cyberspace somewhere. For all she knew, that actually was the reason rather than being Josh’s way of making a point. That was something William would never have allowed him to do. Only William wasn’t on the holiday. Jonathan was. `Having a great time!’ Josh had written. `Weather hot and the girls even hotter. The water skiing is the best!’ Underneath, Jonathan had added his own message: `Barbados is amazing. Hope you are both okay.’ Jennifer was touched that he had asked after them. She wondered if William had heard from them. For his sake, she hoped not. It would only be rubbing salt in the wound. Though after what he had done, it was no with more than he deserved. Or so she tried to tell herself. But it didn’t stop her missing him, however hard she fought against it. She decided to call him; just to check he was all right. It wouldn’t take long, and Tim need never know. The phone lay on the table, where the laptop sat with Josh’s email still open. As she reached for the phone, she heard footsteps overhead and pulled her hand away. Five minutes passed. Tim appeared, wearing a dressing down. He had been drinking heavily the previous evening and his eyes were bloodshot. “Why didn’t you wake me?” he asked. “I didn’t lara otele gelen escort want to disturb you.” “But it’s gone nine.” “What does that matter? You don’t have any appointments this morning.” “Even so. It’s a slippery slope. I don’t want to end up one of those housebound jerks who only get up to watch talk shows.” “You’ll never be like them.” “You sound disappointed.” “Not at all.” He poured himself a coffee. She showed him the email. He read it and laughed. “Sounds like Josh’s enjoying himself. Good lad. And to think there was a time when I thought he might be batting for the other side.” “Why did you think that?” “You know what they say about boys with clingy mothers.” “That’s not fair. And it’s not true either.” “Isn’t it? Just look how William turned out.” She swallowed down her indignation. It was never a good idea to provoke him when he was hung over. “Not that it matters,” he said eventually. “Will isn’t our concern now.” She didn’t answer. “Is he?” Tim pressed. “No.” He kissed her cheek. He smelled of sweat and alcohol. It was a smell she loathed. She wondered if his mistress felt the same. She wondered if his mistress loved him, and if he loved her back. She wondered so many things. “I’m going to watch the business news,” he told her. “Will you bring me some breakfast?” “Of course.” He walked towards the living room. Soon she heard the television. It was on very loud. Again, her hand inched towards the phone. Again she pulled it away. *** That evening, Barbados. Jon was stood in his hotel room, getting ready to check out some of the local bars. Josh was spending the evening with Madison again. He’d invited Jon along too, but he’d declined the offer. Spending an evening with Tyler and his sister was the last thing that Jon needed. Besides which, it was time to put his words into practice. It was time for him to become Jonathan Hunter: a confident, wealthy, well-educated young man, who could pick up any guy he wanted on this island. After much debate, Jon was all set to go out. He was dressed in a pair of very tight, ice-blue stretch Wranglers (with nothing underneath!), red and white trainers, and a pale-green linen shirt. After a few minutes of posing in front of his mirror in the hotel room, satisfying himself that the bulge in his jeans was in the right place and suitably enticing, he was ready to hit the streets of down-town Bathsheba. After leaving the hotel, he walked along the beach. It was not very busy; most of the tourists having gone back to their hotels. There were just a few groups of locals soaking in the evening sunshine, or kicking footballs around. Coming to the end of the beach, Jon started walking towards the town of Bathsheba. Suddenly, something about a hundred yards ahead of him caught his eye. It was a group of about five or six Caribbean boys, walking in the same direction, towards the town. They were all about the same age as Jon, maybe a year or two older. They were laughing and pushing each other around on the pavement. Jon sped up a little to try and catch up with them so he could have a closer look. As he got a bit nearer, he could see that they were all really hunky, wearing skin-tight jeans, sports shoes and brightly coloured T-shirts with short sleeves. Jon could hear them laughing and shouting in thick Caribbean accents to each other as they went along the road. He couldn’t take his eyes off their tight buns and their jeans which clung tightly to their thighs and calves as they walked along. They had beautiful, smooth, dark skin with muscular arms bursting out of their T-shirts. He decided to follow them to see where they would go. Jon followed them at a discreet distance for quite a long way until they started to come into the tall buildings and shopping area of the town. Suddenly, they turned down a side street and Jon just got to the corner in time to see them going down some stairs into an underground bar. It looked like a small nightclub, but there were no bouncers on the door. After taking a couple of deep breaths, Jon plucked up enough courage to follow them and go in. Inside, it was indeed just like a small nightclub: dimly lit, with flashing coloured lights and loud pop music. There were about twenty young Caribbean guys in there, all in their late teens. As Jon looked round, trying to take the whole scene in, one lad in particular caught his eye. The young man in question was sitting alone at the bar chatting to the barman. He was slightly younger looking than the rest of them, probably the same age as Jon. He was wearing tight red jeans and a punky T-shirt, with a silver chain adorning his neck. Remembering that he was now Jonathan Hunter, he took the bull by the horns and went up to the bar, standing a few feet from the sexy young man and ordered himself a beer. A few moments later, another Caribbean boy came up and introduced himself as Shawnte. He asked Jon where he was from. Shawnte seemed quite friendly, and asked Jon if he’d like to join him and his friends at a nearby table. Jon spent the next quarter of an hour or so, talking to Shawnte and his buddies, though he kept stealing occasional glances across at the lad in the red jeans. On one occasion, Jon saw the teenager look back at him. Beginning to feel a bit more at ease, Jon excused himself and went back over to the bar. He offered to buy the sexy young man a drink and discovered that the lad’s name was Dewan. He had a really horny, husky voice, half whispering to Jon, very close to his face. Jon felt his cock twitching in his jeans as Dewan’s knee brushed against his leg while they spoke. At that moment, Jon wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around Dewan’s dark, slim, boyish body and slip his hands down the back of those tight red jeans. The two of them slipped into an easy conversation, Dewan asking Jon all about his holiday: where he was staying, who he was here with, what sights he had seen. Several beers later, Jon needed to take a piss. After excusing himself, he got up and looked for the toilets. They were up at the back of the room in a corner. Opening the bathroom door, Jon stopped in his tracks, the sight before him leaving him wide-eyed in amazement. lara rus escort In front of him, two of the Caribbean boys he’d been talking with earlier were standing with their jeans wide open and holding each other’s hard, thick, uncut cocks. Jon’s penis stiffened immediately. The two black teens half turned away, looking a bit embarrassed. “Can I join in?” Jon spluttered, the alcohol giving him new found boldness. To his surprise, the two lads pointed to one of the stalls and went in, waving to Jon to follow them. Jon quickly did so. Once all three were in the cubicle, one of the pair bolted the door behind them. It was crowded in there, the three of them pressed together. Jon looked at his two companions. They were both beautiful young men, about eighteen, wearing tight jeans and vests, with big, muscular arms. One of them began to undo Jon’s jeans, sliding them down to his knees. The other one, without saying a word, took hold of Jon’s throbbing dick. It was as rock-hard as theirs were. In response, Jon grasped the cock of the lad who’d locked the door. He, in turn, reached out for his friend’s piece of meat. The trio jerked each other for a bit, until one of the ebony skinned teens got down on his knees and started licking Jon’s balls. His buddy pressed up behind Jon, his hard prick pushing between the cheeks of the white arse, his arms round his waist, pumping Jon’s cock like mad with both hands. Jon was in heaven, almost ready to cum. All of a sudden, there was a terrific hammering at the door of the stall. Jon pulled back from the guy in front of him, pushing back further against the black prong lodged between his cheeks. Panic ran through him. Was it the police? Or the manager about to throw them out? “Yo, Jon. You in there?” a voice shouted from outside, and one of the Caribbean lads unbolted the door. It was Dewan, the kid with the red jeans Jon had met earlier in the bar. Now he had a huge bulge straining to get out. One of Jon’s companions yanked Dewan in and locked the door again. Now it was really crowded, with four of them in there. Dewan struggled to get his weapon out. It was huge, almost nine inches, with a gleaming, moist pink knob, exposed by the foreskin which was already rolled right back. His two heavy balls dangled invitingly behind the root of his prick; just asking to be licked. For Jon, it was like a wet dream! The next thing he knew, Dewan whispered to him in his husky voice, “Jon! You like to suck? You suck me? Yeah?” Dewan began pumping his cock right under Jon’s nose, the white lad able to smell the pre-cum on it. `Fucking hell!’ Jon thought to himself. Kneeling down on the floor, he took Dewan’s hard, throbbing prick into his mouth. Meantime, the other two were on top of the toilet seat: one had his legs up over his pal’s shoulders and was having his arse-hole fucked like mad. “You know, Jon. My place ain’t far away,” Dewan said. “Why don’t we take this there instead?” “Yeah, sure,” Jon replied, after pulling off his new friend’s cock. Ten minutes later, the pair of teen’s arrived at Dewan’s house. It wasn’t the nicest of places, but Jon was so consumed by lust that he didn’t care. Besides, his own flat was nothing to write home about, anyway. The two of them were soon naked, scrimmaging on the bed, exploring each other, their hands feeling everywhere. After a few minutes of foreplay, Jon turned himself around and took Dewan’s rod back into his mouth, already imagining the feel of it sliding into him. Jon sucked gently, savouring every moment of having this gorgeous piece of meat between his lips. Dewan moaned happily, encouraging Jon to speed up his ministrations. Wanting to pleasure his partner just as much, Dewan began sucking on Jon’s somewhat smaller cock. They spent several minutes 69ing with each other, until Dewan decided it was time for him to fuck the white boy. Rolling Jon onto his side, Dewan lubed up the boy’s hole, then his own prick. Although long, Dewan’s dick was fairly slim, allowing him to slide relatively easily inside his new lover. Dewan took his time, slowly inching himself inside, until, at last, all nine inches were buried into Jon’s rectum. Jon groaned deeply as Dewan bottomed out, his chute being filled further than ever before. After pausing for a few moments, Dewan began to fuck, making Jon pant and moan as the black teen thrust deeply and strongly. Reaching around, his fingers wrapped around Jon’s rod, jerking him off as he screwed him. After such an intense build up, neither of them was going to last long. Jon came first, shooting his spunk over his chest and abdomen, some trickling down to coat Dewan’s fingers. “Oh fuck!” the Caribbean boy cried, as Jon’s hole spasmed, clamping down on Dewan’s cock and sending him over the edge. It was like a volcano erupting as Dewan filled Jon’s chute with half a dozen blasts of his thick cream. A mere half an hour later, the pair of them were back at it. This time, Dewan had Jon bent high over the arm of the sofa as he pounded his new friend. *** The following morning, Greater Manchester. Brandon Price sat in his bed, talking to divorce lawyer Gordon Manning at his central Manchester office. “Well?” Brandon asked. “Have you heard from Jennifer yet?” “You know I can’t answer that.” “Oh, I think you can, Gordon.” “This is blackmail.” “That’s such an ugly word. Almost as ugly as the word adultery, especially when it involves a middle-aged married man and rent boys younger than his own son. What would your family say if they knew what you do for fun?” Silence. “So, I’ll ask again,” the teenager said. “Have you heard from her yet?” “No.” Brandon cursed under his breath. “Perhaps she won’t call,” the lawyer suggested. “Of course she will. I’ll make sure of it.” “Well, even if she does, I can’t tell her husband.” “You don’t need to. All you need do is persuade her to come and see you at your office. I’ll take care of the rest.” “And if I do, will we be quits?” “Goodbye, Gordon. I know you won’t let me down.” Brandon put down the phone and laid back in bed, imagining Tim’s reaction when he realised his wife’s visit to a divorce lawyer was common knowledge. His pride would never be able to stand it. He would be forced to start divorce proceedings himself, if only to crush the suggestion that any woman might want to leave the great Timothy Hunter. And then Tim would be his. It was as simple as that. The house was quiet. Stephen had left at dawn. With any luck, he’d work late. But even if he didn’t, it wasn’t important. Brandon wouldn’t have to put up with the man for much longer.