"Alan Jackson" III

..."DUDE! It's Christmas Eve! the ONLY thing movin' out there is Santa Claus!"...

I don’t know why it seems that it’s always Christmas time when I run into “Alan”. It was Christmas Eve either 1996 or 1997. I had already done the ‘family thing’; Christmas Eve with my father’s side of the family, then home to open our immediate family presents. My parents were “early to bed, early to rise” kind of people so they bedded down for the night. it was about 10-11:pm and the day’s festivities were pretty much over. It was too early for televised midnight mass, too late for those syrupy-sweet Christmas specials, so I decided to head down to the lake. There as snow on the ground and I really didn’t think anyone would be out because of the holiday and the late hour, but I was bored. What would it hurt to just ride through? I arrived and first went through the main area. as I had suspected there was no one there. Then I drove up the hill to ramp #1. I took the side road and then made the right turn to go down to the water and the parking lot there. as I reached the parking lot I spotted an all too familiar S.U.V. It was “Alan”. It had been quite a while since I last saw him, the memories of the crack house, the cops and the paranoia burnt indelibly into my mind. But what the hell...it’s Christmas...so I pulled up and began a conversation. After a couple of minutes I could tell “Alan” was smoked up. The paranoia was present and stronger than ever. He wanted sex though, which outweighed the paranoia. So he got into my Cutlass and we rode around for a while, eventually ending up way out in the boondocks on someone’s farm. (Apparently his sister had moved into a house next door to him so going back to his place was out of the question.) “Alan” laid back the passenger seat of my car and I began to play with his cock. This didn’t last very long as crack clouded mind concocted the “mystery man” that watched his every move. In retrospect I should have asked if it was the same guy from the summer before. I told him "Dude! it's Christmas eve! The ONLY thing movin' out there is Santa Claus!" But it had no effect...the "mystery man" or "men" were back in his mind and watching his every move...

..."Crack owned him now"...

By now it was pushing 2:am and I wasn’t about to go through what I had the last time we were together. Yes, this guy and I have had the best sex I have ever had, but there’s only so much one should have to go through to recapture the moment. I guess it just wasn’t in the cards. I continued to play with his cock through zipped up jeans as his mind concentrated on imaginary people out to see our sex. finally I fired up the car and took him back to his truck. I was furious but said nothing...”Alan” and I chatted a little on the way back to his truck, but for the most part things were tensely silent. He knew I was unhappy but there really wasn’t anything he could or would do about it. Crack owned him now. We arrived back at the original parking lot where I first met him just before Christmas of ‘94, he got out and I wished him a Merry Christmas, and drove home frustrated. This turned out to be the last time I saw “Alan
Jackson” in a sexual situation. Oh, I saw him out in public a few times, once with some girl I’m sure he was fuckin, (Most likely the young woman mentioned in the 4th and final entry to this sordid little saga...) and then once I was behind him in line at a convenience store. Needless to say, he didn’t speak to me at all; that might mean someone would put 2 and 2 together and...So I didn't speak either to avoid a confrontation and maintain his privacy. God I miss that cock, that beautiful loose ass and that lean masculine body.