Date: Thu, 3 Aug 2006 08:26:11 -0700 (PDT) From: Thomas Emerson Subject: Alex and Luka - 2A Bi, adult/young friends, consenting, friendly, substantive, lacking crudity, and with literary pretension. This work of fiction involves characters who might resemble those on a popular medical program owned by Warner Bros. Television. Nothing should be inferred from the appearance of these individuals in this story. "I'm afraid I have bad news," the handsome young Croatian doctor said to the nineteen year old raver. The boy's name was Abraham Burstein but he was known as A-B Baby (rhymes) and he was pierced times ten. The teen took a few moments to absorb the mid-level chaos of the emergency room and then came to a conclusion that went something like this: "The only thing that could qualify as bad news in this fluorescent circus would be remaining alive or a prognosis of remaining alive." "And I took you for a mindless barracuda lure," Luka Kovac mused, loud enough to be heard over the perennial din. "That's why I live a thousand miles from warm salt water," the kid said. "Which shows I was wrong about your brains, who'd-a thunk it with all the chrome?" "An essential element of genuine intelligence is maintaining ample distance from the mainstream," A-B Baby explained. "And topping any Martian A-list of Earthly exotica may one day yield separation supreme." "Those guys get a load of me in my birthday suit, I wouldn't need so much as a tooth filling to make their list of lists. They may well let me fly." Razor sharp folk don't need a whole lot of time to convert talk to walk. Or it could be that A-B Baby experienced pain from that very multitude which skewered his tongue and lips. In any event, without further discourse, the two found an empty gurney and hopped up on it, hardly daring to let their eyes share so much as a glance. "I take it they're dead," the tall athlete (would you believe swordplay?) mumbled. "As dead," Luka deadpanned, "as the first Martian who allows yourself to become rapturously acquaint with himself." "If you're referring to penile exsanguination," the raver said, apparently enjoying the jargon of the venue, "you assume; perhaps even presume." "Mars?" quoth Dr. Kovac. "Perhaps that was a stretch." "And you realize," the teen responded with a nice touch of drama, "that if I'd happened to have been swigging a Coke just now, half of it would have come flying out my nose like I was a Mentos addict and the other half would have replaced the air in my lungs, killing me." "That reminds me^Å" the doctor said, careful to keep his eyes straight ahead. He found it unnecessary to complete his thought. "Geez, yeah," A-B Baby half-whistled, shaking his head. Both sat people watching and staring at the opposite wall for nearly a minute. "Did they suffer?" the boy asked. "It's probably good that you didn't arrive earlier," Luka replied. "That may indeed have saved them from the worst of it," the teen agreed, classy enough to seem rueful. "On the other hand," the doctor observed, "had their injuries been survivable, a trauma room might have been the best bet for a family reunion." That was thinking material and A-B Baby resumed his pensive stare. When he spoke it was to ask, hypothetically, how much morphine could be administered to a nineteen-year-old male in excellent condition. Luka pointed out the fact that they probably hadn't made as much as the boy and his parents would have required to smooth things over in the last few years, and his new friend reiterated the fact that it was a good thing he'd arrived late on the scene. Great minds think alike. "How `bout the kids, are they here?" A-B Baby finally asked. "Yes," the doctor said, "and that's what we need to talk about. Social Services has tried to find a relative to take them in, but that hasn't panned out." "No," the teen said, "you'd think there would be a grandparent or aunt or uncle, but that's not the case. Plus, we're not affiliated with the temple or any other organization that might help." "That would seem to leave you in the hot seat," Luka observed. "No way, dude," the raver said. "Look at me. You called me a fishing lure. I wish I was that useful. And if I look like a disaster, well, looks can be deceiving. I'd need an Ivy League degree to qualify as a catastrophe. A bat focuses better than I ever could and a sloth has five times my get-up-and-go." "Good," Luka said, "then I don't have to worry about your getting up and leaving before we've had a chance to hash this out." "Nothing to negotiate," A-B Baby said. "I yam what I yam." "And," Luka interjected, "plenty bad enough not degrade yourself further by letting your half-brother and half-sister end up in separate foster homes." "You think that's what I want?" the teen barked. "For one minute in a lifetime? No way. It's not. It's just that I can't do anything about it. The situation is real; but I'm not. I'm not even phony. I'm just not." "Not," Luka spat, "you're just too smart to fit comfortably, but that doesn't mean you can't fit at all." "But I don't want to fit. Why would I? All I see out there is fat, debt, and dysfunction. They say unemployment is under five percent, but go take a look. The suburbs are choking with huge boomerangs; college kids that have returned to their parents and don't even look for work; aren't even on the radar. Millions and millions and millions of them. It's a seething disaster; the last gasp of the corruption of democracy's beloved masses. Not corruption of the masses, but by the masses. Fatal stuff, so what's there to focus on? What's there to get up and go for?" "I think their names are Alice and Duane." "I liked you better when you were being funny," the raver groaned. "They'll like you for the same reason," the doctor responded. "That's the first thing they said when your parents were dying. That they love you and miss you and that you're pierced and cool or cool and pierced, don't remember which, but do you suppose it really matters?" "What matters is that they're safe," the brother said. "You might have the agenda of a mole," Luka said, "but they'd be safe with you." "How do you know?" "I don't know it, I sense it. You may be weird, but you're not dangerous?" "I may not be a Stephen King straight-razor fiend," A-B Baby said, "but there are other kinds of dangers, or at least things society deems dangerous." "Such as?" the doctor wondered aloud. "You've seen my half-sister," the teen said. "The last time I tried to visit, there she was in the front yard. Ten years old and glorious. My parents car was gone so I didn't even dare walk onto the property. I just scuttled away like I'd actually done something. And stayed away." Luka tried not dying of excitement and barely succeeded. This kid didn't know from nuthin'. Alice was a big-eyed, long-mousy-haired beauty. So what did his piercedness think was going to happen to this delicate and ethereal flower in The System? He'd just loosed an entirely salient diatribe against a grotesquely materialistic society far beyond any hope of redemption, so why, all of a sudden, did that society's value system amount a hill of one bean? And the brother, Duane, thirteen. Two years older than Luka's quasi-stepson, Alex. A bit tall, a bit lanky, somewhat big-footed, and magnetic ^Ö no adjectives needed. Then there was the fishing lure, himself. Tall, wiry, way masculine and plenty tough. Dizzying. A threesome straight from fantasyland; a trio that might inspire Detective Stabler, the ultimate in up-tight, to have second and even third thoughts. (Of course Tyne Daley wouldn't thaw, but good news sometimes come in perverse packaging.) "Do you know what the statistics are?" the doctor asked. "One out of five girls, overall, has experiences with a family member as a juvenile, usually starting about age ten. One out of five. All sources, for once, agree. And that's overall. Subtract the fat, the ugly, and the disagreeable and the ratio, for girls like your sister, probably jumps to one out of three or even one out of two. In other words, however you've been indoctrinated, your feelings are dead common. In fact, the oddity would be if you didn't find Alice attractive as a girl. And let me guarantee this. She finds you attractive as a boy. Duane does too, though I'd bet a month's salary he's not gay." "Yeah, but^Å" A-B Baby sputtered. "But nothing," Luka barked. "What's going to happen if you abandon them? Foster care is what it is; institutional care is what it is. How much good have you heard about either?" "I dunno^Å" The doors to the ambulance bay crashed open in classic e.r. style. "Stick with me," Luka demanded and for half an hour the raver assisted the doctor, intelligence and talent substituting admirably for a year or two of nursing school. "You can't be stunted by legacy groupthink," the older male said as they suctioned and sewed. "It's crippling the country ^Ö for example, what is our border with Mexico? It makes no sense whatsoever, but it is so therefore it remains. We have a military that drives off its soldiers with harassment and the mindless bullying of ritualistic discipline. Like the silly border, it makes no sense and is actually extremely dangerous to the security of the country, but the sergeants still shout and dominate for the sake of dominating as if they were dealing with the peasants of ancient Rome, while the eddycated officer class still preens and swaggers and eschews fraternization like pompous clowns out of Gilbert and Sullivan. To the point of bankruptcy and beyond we cling to huge houses and giant motor vehicles, even in an age when all anyone really wants is a good computer and television set. In short, it's all tunnel and no light and if you're lucky enough to have a beautiful sister and handsome brother who seem to love each other, and to love you, you should either respond sensibly or grease up a cattle prod, shove it, and tape down the trigger." "But I don't even know how to start," the teen said. For the moment they were alone and working on an unconscious patient. "I have something for you to think about," Luka said. "I live with a lovely woman ^Ö a doctor here at County ^Ö and her eleven-year-old son, Alex. It's a bit of a long story, but suffice it to say that our lives center around our home, therefore we have money galore, and plenty of room. "What I want you to think about and talk about with Duane and Alice is moving in with Samantha, Alex, and myself for a few months. We maintain a stable and affectionate household, but there are certain cultural rules and imperatives ^Ö taboos, if you will ^Ö that we choose to ignore, and I think these are along the lines you alluded to when you told me about your reluctance to visit your sister while your parents were absent." They finished with the patient. Luka signed out, ending his shift, and the two made their way to the hospital solarium where the new orphans waited. If he'd had any doubts about his assessment of the younger Bursteins, the doctor forgot them the moment the boy and girl launched themselves against their rugged half-brother. Five minutes were devoted to tears and squealing, then the group settled onto an upholstered bench set into one wall of the lounge. For long moments no one said anything, though the air seemed to practically spark with anticipation and that which wanted saying. Luka let A-B Baby break the silence, which he did with a nervous cough. "Guys," he said, "the doctor has a deal for us." "I vote we accept," Alice said immediately, "and you can surprise us with the details later." "Yeah," Duane enthused, "but how much later?" "Well," the doctor murmured, "the bridge has been spanning the East River for over 125 years, so it's nothing to jump through hoops over." "I knew he'd pull something like that," A-B Baby said, "that's why I wanted to meet here where there's no food or beverages to choke on." "When will it be safe to be around him?" Alice wanted to know. "Sometimes they mature in their seventies or eighties," the eldest Burstein explained, but his look was skeptical and he couldn't help shaking his head. "At least he's good at helping people cope with grief," Duane allowed, and the pros and cons of the doctor were further analyzed as he sat isolated in absentia. Luka let them have their little fun-time, then spoke up. "What I've done," he said, "is bribe the head of the kitchen to let me store Hebrew National hotdogs in one of the refrigerators, along with Pepperidge Farms buns and mustard that costs twenty dollars per four-ounce bottle. So, if anyone's hungry, we can ride down in the elevator and pretend we're at Coney Island." "Will you steam the rolls?" Duane asked. "And can we chop some onions?" his sister wanted to know. "What kind of beer do they stock?" That had to have been the raver. There was another cycle about pretzels, relish, and lab alcohol, then the elevator reached their floor. The kids ran ahead and Luka pinned A-B Baby against the tile wall. "If you decide to hang out with us," he whispered, "we're going to limit rule bending. In return for what a least a substantial minority would deem the profoundest of privileges, certain sacrifices are in order. No alcohol of any kind, ever. The same with tobacco products. Pot's fine when you're off with your friends, but that's it for recreational alternatives. No gambling, violence, stealing, or any behavior that could, in any way, be construed as adding to your brother and sister's loss of their parents. "But^Å" the nineteen-year-old sputtered. "Sorry," his newly hatched mentor interrupted. "If I'm paranoid, it's a byproduct of patching, pumping, and pronouncing. At our house we read, mostly historical fiction. You've been selected as tenants largely because you, personally, seem to have something to read into, commonly referred to as a brain. It's possible your siblings are similarly endowed. So try and understand: I'm not instituting this policy as any kind of punishment or even as a deterrent," Luka went on, "the way I hope to influence you is mostly by means of a carrot of two-hundred dollars a week, spending money. So you can add it up for yourself. The rarest of privileges, plus a nice wad of cash every Friday, in return for your sense, sanity, and sobriety. "Deal?" "You're comping us the hotdogs?" "Yup." "Deal." "Sorry we can't drink to it." "I'll learn not to." "You're selling out for a premium price, if that's how you look at it: for the best franks on the planet." They were greeted with warm smiles by the kitchen staff and in twenty minutes were seated at an alcove table for their impromptu picnic. Luka phoned home and spoke with Alex. It was a my-place-or-yours discussion that ended with the boy taking a taxi to the hospital. He arrived carrying a cooler. "But I thought^Å" A-B Baby stammered. "Extremism in the name of fanaticism is no virtue," the doctor intoned, adding: "never say never," as he brought forth two bottles of chilled champagne and five glasses. No one argued with his logic or inconsistency and any subliminal reserves melted quickly away as the quintet worked their way through the pile of franks, cups of coleslaw, chips, soda, and a bubbly chaser. Samantha was off at a conference, but Alex showed pictures and acquainted the handsome raver and his brother and sister with their new living situation. Duane responded with pictures of his deceased parents and for awhile the group was appropriately subdued. Then a click of their glasses broke the somber mood and transferred the perspective from the past and present to the future and what was about to happen on an upper floor of the sprawling building. My stories always seem to bog down when it comes to emphasizing how careful adult characters are to insure genuinely willing participation on the part of any juveniles involved. This discussion was not omitted, but we can skip over it and shift the scene to a vacant room on the tenth floor. (Please display your dignity by withholding your applause.) Alex slung his backpack onto one of the two beds and retrieved a pair of candles and a small DVD player. At Luka's suggestion that they act grownup and mature, all five stripped to their underwear and sat side-by-side on one bed watching the little video player on the other bed. "Bambi" was not on the program, nor "Snow White", nor anything to do with Muppets or cats in hats. This led to a rapid withering of any commitment to innocence nurtured by the ensemble. "Can I sit on your lap?" Alice asked her formerly estranged half brother. "And I want to sit on yours, Doctor Luka," Duane said, responding to Alex's whispered suggestion. The teen and the doctor ^Ö no surprises here ^Ö agreed, and Alex completed the tableau by moving to the opposite bed and holding the portable DVD player in his lap so the others could view it more comfortably. (He'd already seen the program.) So it ended up (or began) this way: Luka, 32, with A-B Baby, 19, and Alice, 10, at his right flank while Duane, 13, wriggled happily in his lap and Alex, 11, sat opposite. No one was not nervous, but the thing to remember is that no one was headed for the door, and this wasn't because they were too lazy to remove the chair jam-fitted against the handle. For some reason it seemed pretty obvious that there should be more to the situation than that which could be presented by the little disc player and that A-B Baby, who had the most to gain should the even turn out to be successful, should start things off. "Do you guys remember Will Giles?" he asked his half brother and sister. Duane nodded but Alice said she didn't. "Do you want me to tell you what happened with him when I was thirteen?" he then asked, explaining to Luka and Alex that the man in question was a teacher living in their building. Just like no one was not nervous, no one didn't want to hear the nineteen-year-old's story, so he began. "We were kinda friends off of sports and chess," the prison-cut raver began, "and he was really honest with me. He said he was definitely not ^Ö as in NOT ^Ö married, and thought I was way cute. Once he'd established his identity so there's be no mistaking on my part he invited me up to his apartment. This happened several times as we got to know each other. Nothing physical, but nothing hidden, either. Then summer came and school let out." - - - - - "I want to talk to you about something special," Will said, "do you think you're ready for that, or do you want to keep things the way they are?" "I really like you," the boy replied, letting this basic reality substitute for the unknown and a hundred questions he wanted to ask. "The feeling is totally mutual," the teacher said. "Nothing faggy or gay, but I really like you, too, and I was wondering if you'd be interested in taking off with me this weekend and going to a very special place where we can have plenty of sort-of privacy." "My parents really like you and like me spending time with you," Abe said, "so I'm sure they'd let me go with you. Probably anywhere short of Mars." "Kinda figured that's how it is," the young adult said, "but I don't want to exploit you or the situation." "No way," Abe said, "I know you don't look upon me as food, and that's all that counts as far as I'm concerned." "Okay," Will laughed, "the place I want to take you is a private water park. It's run by a junior high coach who inherited a few million bucks from his family, so it's free to teachers and young soldiers." "Sounds great," the boy said. "Total understatement. It's ten times happier than Disneyland, which is meant to be the happiest place on earth." "Is it only for guys?" "About ninety percent of the patrons are young men and boys," Will explained, "but the men are allowed to bring their daughters and the boys are allowed to bring their kid sisters, so there are usually ten or twelve girls between the ages of seven and eleven^Å no women." "How long does it take to get there?" Abe asked, feeling a working definition of the word "waste" was any time spent not heading in the water park's direction. "I've rented a Corvette for the weekend," his teacher-friend replied, "and I don't much care if I get a ticket or two since I don't really need my license, and the park's on a lake in southern Wisconsin, so call it an hour." "Can you rent a motorcycle next time?" the boy wanted to know. "They're better in traffic." "That's true," Will acknowledged, "but I wouldn't feel right about letting you drive a Harley; at least not before you've had some practice behind the wheel." They used to say half the fun is getting there, and that was true in the case of a certain tall, lanky thirteen-year-old with big hands and big feet. "Here's a red suit," Will said after they'd unpacked in their room. "There are three colors, as you'll see as soon as we enter the park. Red is for boys who are just starting out. Yellow is for boys who've had a little experience, and green is for boys who are eager for most any kind of encounter." He went on to explain that all member of the club who used the park were carefully tested for STDs and psychological abnormalities; that Abe would be safe going with anybody, anywhere, at any time and that nothing would ever happen to him without his unhesitating permission. "But you'll stay with me, right?" the boy asked. "As long as you want me to," the teacher assured him. "Cool," the child enthused. "What do we do first?" "If you'd like, we can do a little spying," Will said. "There are a bunch of tepees up in the woods in back of the water-slide. They have viewing ports at different levels so you can look through a lower one while I stand behind you and look through a higher one." "What will we see?" "Usually young boys down to age seven getting molested by older boys or men my age, but there could be a brother with his sister or something like that." "Can we take the Corvette?" "Actually," Will responded, "what I'd like to take first, if it's okay with you, is the water slide. That way you can get used to me touching you sort of slowly and innocently in case you're not too thrilled with the sensation, and if we go down the slide together^Å" "I'll be in front, right?" "I guess that makes sense." "But we'll only ride it twice before we go out in the woods?" "Rule One, here, is that the child is always in control. Anything you want, assuming it's half-way reasonable, will happen, and, more importantly, nothing you don't want ^Ö or aren't sure about ^Ö will ever happen. That's why the park's thrived for twenty years. Zero complaints." "Well," the future A-B Baby grinned, "you'll be hearing one if we don't get these suits on and^Å" From three-hundred feet in the air they had a good view of their surroundings. A heavy canopy of trees blocked the Indian village, but everything else was quite open. A dozen or so canoes plied the lake within a half-mile of the park and another group was nested one the beach of a nearby island. There was a tunnel of love. Looked to be about a quarter of a mile long. Several pools ranging from Olympic to skinny-dipping rustic. Their perch was colloquially known as The Best View on the Entire Planet, and, indeed, is was a place that tempted the imagination to run at least wild if not wholly rampant. "We've never really talked about any of this stuff," Will said as they approached the entry point of the ferocious slide. Have you ever been touched by a man before?" "No," the boy said. "I've seen stuff about priests on TV, and I've seen pictures of ^Ö you know ^Ö under a microscope. Maybe some locker room talk, and they say our paper boy is getting molested by a guy on the tenth floor, but that's all." "Okay," the young teacher responded. "Just keep in mind the fact that, A, you're in complete control, and, B, that seven out of ten boys have their first experience with a man or boy." "How about ^Ö you know?" the child asked. "Will I get to see that while we're here?" "A lot of the men here ^Ö who outnumber the boys, what with the soldiers and all, by six or eight to one ^Ö will want to ejaculate on your chest. After that happens, you get to wear a yellow swimsuit. When you've let an adult cum-off in your mouth, you can wear a green suit if you want to have it happen again." "I guess that's a Yes," Abe said, and it sounded as if the child were purring with anticipation. At that point they reached the front of the water-slide line. "This is how I'll hold you when we're looking through the slits in the tepee," Will whispered, his hands moving to the boy's flanks for their first thousand-volt contact. "The tunnel of love is closer," the thirteen year old whispered as they stepped onto the highest point of the menacing slide. "As I said," the teacher reminded his student, "all choices in these matters belong to you." Then they sat and the operator lifted the safety bar. The first downgrade was essentially vertical, and in almost no time at all the couple were proceeding at eighty miles an hour. Then the slide leveled, finally rising slightly so they were pitched almost a hundred feet through the air to land in a sea of bubbling foam which concealed a fine-mesh nylon net. This was quickly winched to the surface so they could climb the ladder and exit the pool, where they were all but overwhelmed with options. The entrance to the dark tunnel lay close at hand, the woods and Indian village were less than a hundred yards off, and they could be back on top of the slide in a few minutes. There were canoes, and heaven only knows what might be happening out on the island with so many young soldiers, sailors, and preteen boys. There were pools for diving and the hidden lagoon where they might whisper nervously about skinny-dipping together. There were a few red suits, quite a number of yellows, and enough greens to dizzy a rock. There was a stable, where patrons could relive those thrilling days of yesteryear when male children set off on cattle drives to assist the cowboys in any way they could, even if it meant dressing as schoolgirls for an evening hoedown. And the hotel? A rambling, unclean, funky affair called simply the Swiss because so many holes had been bored in its walls and floors. What might happen to a nine-year-old girl in such place hardly bore thinking about. Fine. It wasn't built for thinking, in the first place. "How did you feel about being close?" Will asked Abe as they dried off with thick terry towels. "It was exciting," the boy said. "So, what's next?" "I'm for sticking with Plan A," the boy replied, and in a few minutes the two were entering one of the trails into the forest primeval. "The swimming hole was really tempting," Abe admitted. "For me, too," his mentor agreed. "I was wondering if you'd let me take your trunks off, or if you'd want to go behind a tree and get naked in private." "Would you spy on me?" "Yes," Will whispered. "I'd want to see if you had a boner so I'd know if you were ready for me to touch you." "I almost always have one when I'm with you," Abe said with a blush. "And you've never let anyone see you with one?" "No." "Watch out for those double-negatives," the English teacher cautioned, "someone could use them to your disadvantage." "And some people don't mind no tricks," the boy responded, "if it ain't no yahoo doing no trickin'." "One thing's for sure," Will said.] "What's that?" "You won't be needin' no microscope to see what's happening on your bare chest." "I just hope I can do the same for you." They were approaching a tepee. "Have you started masturbating yet?" the young man wanted to know. "^Åbut I know how to spell it," the boy said, temporizing as only the best and brightest can. They gained the wall, if it's walls a tepee has, and leaned forward to spy. Inside was a twenty-year-old in a wheelchair and a ten-year-old boy; a beauty with close-cropped brown hair and eyes to go with his sublime complexion. Microphones installed in the faux tent picked up ever word as the inmates spoke. "Even if this doesn't work, I want to come and live with you, Uncle David," the boy said. Both were dressed in neat street clothes, with the child seated on a bench in front of his athletic but disabled uncle. "Even if it doesn't work, you'll be welcome," he said. "What do you want me to do?" the ten-year-old asked. "Are you ready for me to take your shirt off, Paul?" the mature male asked. "Okay," the boy replied, standing and nervously approaching the athletic young man. "And this is free?" Abe whispered to Will. "Well," his teacher mused, "an awful lot of prison and juvi if'n we get caught, but otherwise, the short answer is Yes. The director ^Ö Al Wright ^Ö makes videos but he never sells them; just distributes them on the Web on the theory there is an aesthetic side to young men being with cute boys, and this beauty is something to share, not hide under an Oprah rock." A case in point was David slowly unbuttoning the shirt of his young nephew. The boy's skin practically glowed as the athlete in the wheelchair spread the fabric wide and traced his fingers gently over the youth's already heaving chest. Paul responded by arching to his uncle's sexual touching and linking his fingers behind his neck. As the uncle's fingers circled the child's tiny pink nipples Will whispered to Abe, "that's where I'm going to sperm on you; all over your chest ^Ö okay?" "Will any get on my face?" the child whispered back. "Yes. Probably on your shoulders, too." "And I won't need a microscope to see it?" "Guaranteed." David had now stripped Paul of his shirt, laying it carefully over the arm of his wheelchair. He coaxed the bare-chested child to him and began gently sucking the tiny, pink nipples. His victim, for so Oprah would have it, responded by lowering his arms and massaging the back of his uncle's head, running his fingers through the man's silky blond hair while he murmured encouragement. As they watched through the view ports of the teepee Will began openly molesting Abe, his hands gently massaging up and down the boy's bare flanks, then in and across his developing chest. "Would you let me do this with you if we were inside the tent and they were watching?" he asked Abe. "Yes," the boy said, his voice now a husky rasp as he watched David's hands moved down over his nephew's belly and begin toying with the child's belt buckle. Aesthetically, it was difficult to believe any sight could be more provocative or alluring than a slim, bare-chested ten-year-old wearing a neatly pressed pair of brown slacks. How anyone could fail to see and appreciate such raw beauty was a mind-mixer of the first water: I mean, how sick would you have to be to harbor that extreme of obtuseness? Answer: at death's very doorstep. "I want yours off, too," Paul said, his hands retreating from David's hair and moving to the buttons on the mature male's shirt. In moments they were helping each other, and a few heartbeats later the half naked child was chest-to-chest with the handsome young man as they experimented ^Ö successfully ^Ö with tentative kissing then the dueling tongues and panting of carnal exploration. In a new variation, Paul remained motionless as his uncle's cheeks bulged and retracted rhythmically. When the display was over David whispered: "I want to take your underpants off and do that to your penis." "Is that masturbating?" Abe whispered to Will. "No," the young teacher replied. "He'll probably masturbate the boy ^Ö jerk him off with his hand ^Ö before he takes him in his mouth. That's called fallatio, a name it's better not to use, and more commonly, oral sex, and more crudely, a blow job." "Giving head?" the panting boy asked the teacher. "Right," the man said. "That's in the crude column along with `sucking' and `hum-job'." "And what do you call it when the end happens?" "Technically, `ejaculating'. Commonly, `cumming', spelled with a `u'. There's a dozen other names. Shooting your load. Creaming your pants. Spunking off. Here at the Wonder-of-Wonders Park, we use the term `sperming': for example, pretty soon David's going to sperm on Paul, and after we've watched that happen I'm going to lie you on your back so you can watch me, then kneel between your legs, masturbate, and sperm all over your belly and chest." "What happens after that?" Abe wanted to know. "When you're mature enough for a yellow suit, I'll lick some of the semen off your chest then kiss you the way David's kissing Paul." "Is there anything not to look forward to here?" "Leaving, I guess." "But even then you can look forward to coming back, right?" "You just said a mouthful." Their ragged, whispering conversation was interrupted by purposeful activity inside the tepee. Both males quickly removed their shoes and socks and stripped out of their slacks, then positioned themselves a few feet apart to drink in the non-apparition of their perfect, slim bodies and gentle, kind faces. "Are they going to masturbate now?" Abe asked. "I think you're asking if there's a breeze in a hurricane," the teacher replied. It didn't happen right away. Paul slowly and nervously closed the distance between himself and the athletic young adult in the wheelchair. David was comforting and tender as he resumed his molestation of the child, now running his finger tips over the taut, white flesh of the ten-year-olds inner thighs, moving in small circles and trending slowly higher. For his part, Paul was now quaking and shuddering almost uncontrollably; leaning forward to brace himself on his uncle's shoulders. The wheelchair moved, but each locked a wheel without breaking their rapturous involvement with each other, and in a few minutes David's hands were caressing Paul right down his flanks and over his white briefs. "You okay?" he whispered to his nephew, peering carefully into the child's brown eyes. His answer was a nod, the boy now beyond articulate speech as the adult's hand moved gently in across the hot bulge in his underpants. "Just push me away if you want me to stop," David said, himself barely capable of speech. Again, a silent response as the boy moved his hips to the hands of the child molester. The almost motionless tableau continued for some minutes, then the uncle spoke again. "Paul," he said, "before I pull your underpants down I need you to do something. I need you to speak. So there will be no possibility of misunderstanding, I need you to ask me ^Ö out loud ^Ö to sexually molest you. "Think you can do that?" "I couldn't," Abe whispered to Will. "You'll have to," his teacher responded. "It's a rule. A child who's wearing a red suit has to specifically ask to be molested." "Why?" "Because, if he's silent he might be unable to speak because he's confused or scared. Kids are mercurial; one thing one minute, and the next thing the next. They might start out willingly, then change their mind and be too embarrassed to speak up. "And remember," Will continued, "if you take a red-suited little boy or girl to a tepee or anywhere else, before you get them naked you have to ask them, and if they don't respond you gently back off and leave them alone." "Then you know what?" Abe asked. "What?" "I'm going to get a tattoo on my chest. Something like: `I hereby to give, authorize, and present full, complete, and absolute permission to any male I've let remove my shirt to use his hands and mouth to sexually molest me and masturbate me to his heart's content.'" "No money is ever meant to exchange hands on these premises," Will said, "but they might make an exception to that rule if you cut some stencils and at least recovered your costs by selling said stencils to boys and girls." "Yeah," the boy enthused ^Ö talk of sex diverting his attention ^Ö "all I'd need would be a few perverts, plus there'd be the ink and needles^Å" "I was just kidding," quoth the young teacher. "No tats, sorry: they're like facial hair. Signs of excessive self-indulgence ^Ö anal narcissism. We're into character, not billboards; each-other, not mirrors." And it was back to the viewing slits. Little Paul was obviously conflicted. Embarrassed at the unfamiliar and socially forbidden utterance, on the one hand, and half desperate to please his beautiful uncle, on the other. No pain, no gain, and both the spies instinctively understood that any confusion the ten-year-old had to deal with at the moment was a fraction of what he'd feel if things went any further ^Ö and could never be undone. In the end, which wasn't long in coming, the tyke said Please touch me, Uncle David; I love you." Close enough. David said he loved the boy, which was perfectly obvious to Abe and Will, then gently lower the child's white briefs, and first covering him with his hand, then slowly moving to the preteen and very carefully and gently making first contact. Paul shuddered and bent forward, thrusting his hips gently as he had at the first touch through his underpants. But now he was naked, his hard boner jutting from his tender loins at a forty-five degree angle. He was slim, circumcised, and about as beautiful as a human can be. David cupped him low with his left hand while with his right he experimented, judging the success of various ventures by the mewing gasps of the panting child half in his lap. "There's another rule pending," Will said to Abe. "But, meantime, David is fondling Paul, which is a common foreplay to masturbation." "What's the rule?" Abe wanted to know, astonished that he had enough voice left to put his question into comprehensible words. "That the more mature male always has the first climax." "How ^Ö oops ^Ö come?" "Because an adult's ejaculation can be very heavy, and some of the semen may splash on the child. If the boy or girl is excited, they like it, but if they've just had their own climax they may have cooled off, so to speak, and getting splattered with sperm may gross them out. Something to remember, like verbal permission, when you start teaching inexperienced youngsters." "Don't forget to teach me first," the boy said. "As if," his teacher responded, moving his hands lower than ever on the thirteen-year-old's silky flat belly. Now David was openly masturbating the child standing before him, stroking gently yet purposefully with his right hand as he cupped the surprisingly mature youngster with his left. In moments the pair established a beautiful rhythm, the boy's hips moving in response to the pumping of the young man in the wheelchair. A minute passed, then several. Both males were panting and Paul was bent nearly double over his uncle, bracing himself on the man's shoulders and kissing him on the top of his head. The rising tension in both was palpable. "They'll have to stop pretty soon," Will said to his student, and no sooner had he spoken, then the rhythm of the lovers slowed as David gently eased the thrusting boy from him. Paul seemed to instinctively know what was needed. In moments he'd worked his uncle's briefs down over his ankles and, his little-boy hands guided by those of the adult, begun masturbating his uncle with a slow and steady rhythm. "Paul's doing the m-word, now," Will said, on the chance in a million his bright student hadn't figured that out for himself. "Are you like that?" Abe whispered to his teacher, obviously referring to the obviousness of David's obviously intense excitement; all seven inches of it. "Well, almost, I guess," Will replied. Curious child. "If like six soldiers took me into the woods, would they all be like that?" "Not identical," Will cautioned. "But, you know^Å" "I think David's somewhat bigger than average. Not monstrous, but certainly in no way stunted. And hold this thought^Å seeing you naked would make each and every one of them, should they number a dozen or more, be all that they could be." "But that would never happen, right?" It should be noted that here a lull in new activity occurred inside the teepee, thus the voyeurs were able to find voice. "Here I can give you the world's best advice," his teacher replied: "never but never say never." "But you'd come with me, you know, if it did happen, right?" "Remember the basic rule. When it comes to special activities ^Ö and only when it comes to special activities ^Ö the child is always in charge. If you want me to take your underpants off while a group of soldiers, sailors, marines, and aviators watch, then hold you like I'm holding you now, while you do to each of them what Paul's doing to his uncle, then I'll take your underpants off while the soldiers, sailors, marines and airmen watch and hold you like I'm holding you now as you masturbate each of them on your belly, your chest, your shoulders, and your face." "Promise?" "Yes, Red-Suit Randy, I promise." "Good," the boy said, "that makes you the best teacher in the universe, not just the galaxy." "How would you know; you're only the best student in the world." "Yes," Abe agreed, "but I can learn." "Well, you've got me there, pal, because learning anything more than you would be an idiotic waste of time." "Even if I were the teacher?" David began tensing in his chair, rocking back on the locked wheels. This ended the childish conversation of the witnesses. Will slipped his hands down along the sides of Abe's swimsuit and the boy whinnied softly in receptive response. "Remember, you have to give me verbal permission," he was able, the imperative of the child molester overcoming the stunning beauty of Paul braced and the naked and athletic David arched back as every muscle of his body strained in corded tension. "Make me sperm," Abe choked. "Please." In less time than it takes to sit down at this keyboard and type it all out, Will had his thirteen-year-old student naked and had slipped out of his own swimsuit. He quickly resumed his position behind the panting boy, thrusting his log of a circumcised penis between the tender, white thighs of the child so that the youngsters hard boner lay fully against him. In the tent, David's head was lolling side-to-side, his tongue hanging out as he gasped for breath. Paul, obviously thrilled to be treating his uncle so, tightened his grip and was stroking with ever more deliberate power from moment to moment. Will reached down in front of Abe and fondled the child with his left hand as he began jerking them both off with the rhythmic pumping of his right. His student thrust avidly to his working, moving his small hand to learn from the man. Will moved the boy's right hand onto them, and guided his left so that the child was cupping himself firmly. The student learned quickly and in moments Will was able to brace himself against the tent and lose himself to the sensation of being successfully masturbated by the stroking fist of a naked boy. "I want you up inside me," Abe gasped. "Let Paul mount you first," Will, ever the sensitive and caring teacher managed to say, "you'll miss a lot if you end up in the emergency room." "To quote my teacher," the boy said, wriggling back against the highly-aroused and naked young adult, his hand gripping the hugeness jutting high between his childish thighs, "you just said a mouthful." And a little serendipity was in play in the here and now. Cute little Paul ^Ö in no way tired of the fulsome reaction to his sizzling fist ^Ö lowered his sweet face and after some wicked licking settled his mouth over David. By now his uncle's scream is half-way to Mars, his hot jets of scalding semen close behind. Paul convulsed like he was being shot again and again. Too shocked to swallow, his uncle's sperm cascaded from his little mouth in heavy sheets until he collected his wits sufficiently to pull away and watch in awe as jet after jet rose practically out of sight before collapsing back and raining down on his bare shoulders. "I'm cumming," Will managed to grunt. Abe responded by slamming his right fist down hard and gripping almost convulsively with his left. His swift transition from childhood to boyhood began moments later as a hot jet of semen blazed against his heaving chest. It was no contest because there were no losers. David sprayed heavily over his boy while Will grabbed Abe's left hand, holding it before him as he spilled a pair of shot glasses worth of seed. The flooding of both the adults eventually yielded to a gentle flow and finally terminated in a few last milked drops of almost clear seminal fluid. Paul again bowed his head and in moments the ten-year-old beauty was lapping and gulping like a thirsty cat, his tongue smacking audibly over the microphone. "Awesome," Abe whispered as he raised his sopping palm to his mouth and emulated the best friend in his whole life, then his tongue was too busy for further utterance. - - - - - "It's kinda sad," Alice said. "What is, sweetheart?" A-B Baby asked his ten-year-old sister. "Oh," the girl mused, "I don't know. That you didn't do it with me, or that I wasn't there, or something like that. Maybe that you didn't wait." "Well, I'm here now," the raver said. "Yes," the girl acknowledged, shaking her head. "But you've already done it. I mean, I can't really blame you. I was just a little kid. I guess I'm just kinda wishing out loud." All sat for some moments contemplating Alice's statement. The light dawned first with Luka. "How much do you know about all this?" he asked. "I don't know," the girl replied. "I mean it sounds like the best thing in the whole world, and there can only be one `best' of anything, so A-B Baby's already done it and I got left out." The logic was flawless, but so was the mouse-haired, brown-eyed beauty. It was no time to be giving up, nohow, and Duane took a shot. "Look at it this way," the thirteen year old explained, "you were best in your class last year, right?" "I guess so," Alice allowed. "And you were best, this year, too, right?" "I almost lost out to Susie Funkhauser." "But if you had you'd be first, next year^Å do you follow?" "So all the things ^Ö no matter how amazing ^Ö that A-B Baby did at that park he can do again? I mean, it just sounded so once-in-a-lifetime." Alex had a thought. "Maybe you've been watching too much Animal Planet," he said, "and gotten your half-brother confused with the male black widow spider ^Ö who, indeed, mates but once in his lifetime." "But I thought that was true," the girl responded. "It is," Alex assured her, "but the truth applies to spiders. Humans are much newer here on the planet; haven't evolved as much as insects. Therefore they can screw things up again and again." And again with the impeccable logic. "What do you think, A-B Baby?" the slim, big-eyed beauty wanted to know. "If the subject is once-in-a-lifetime experiences," the nineteen-year-old said, "then there's no thinking necessary. The brains any guy carries in his baby toenail would assure him that you are such an experience, even just sitting here talking." "He's right," Duane said, Alex nodding along with Luka. And this was not a case of fertile young imaginations running wild. No way. If they'd run an inch Alice would be quaking and shrieking at the approach of her first eye-rolling, toe-curling, teeth-gnashing orgasm. One couldn't see the panther blood in the demure schoolgirl, nor could one detect its absence. A hush. A long hush. The candles spent soft gold and the Russian boys, their fiery climaxes sprayed hotly on each other's bellies, had retired to their plastic home. "I know what you could say," Alice finally whispered to Duane who was still sitting at her left elbow in Luka's lap. "Do you really want me to?" the thirteen-year-old asked the ten-year-old. Brother and sister of common domicile, they shared a wavelength. "A-B Baby was really honest," the little doll said, "so it'll be okay ^Ö don'tya think?" "Okay," the boy said, reddening even in the candlelight. "I bought something for Alice this afternoon." "At Victoria's Little Secrets," the girl murmured, helping her stammering brother. "It cost thirty dollars," Duane said to a sympathetic audience who realized he was stalling for time. "Then they got broadsided on the way to pick us up," Alice said. "We had kind of a plan," the thirteen-year-old elaborated. "I was going to buy it for her, which I did, then we were going to pretend to have a fight so she'd get mad at me and give it back. Sort of like play acting, because we wanted to make it as special as we could, not just sort of do it." "Then Mom and Dad got killed," Duane said, taking his turn, "so I guess we don't need to perform our little drama to make the experience last for the rest of our lives." Again there was an extended hush as everyone in the room tried achieve a bizarre equilibrium and in their own way to balance the fact of the death of the parents some few hours earlier with the monumental dimension of what in effect amounted to a memorial service ^Ö a beginning equal in profundity to the ending preceding it. But the tug was the future; the irresistible force, time ahead of the clock: the minutes and hours yet to join the past. And what was the alternative? To ignore nature's atavistic call because nature had called elsewhere and in doing so demonstrated the callous indifference of the totality of her power? Yet all realized that defiance for its own sake would have been little more than a sham. To engage as they were about to engage solely as an act of rebellion against the cruelties of fate would have left each of them with the bland, hollow emptiness of religion ^Ö a worthless palliative of ritualized conformity differing from the cults of stargazers and tealeaf readers only in that it cost more. Bottom line? There was none. A-B Baby, Duane, and Alice would simply recall the date as profound and so pregnant with symbolism as to render anything and everything mystic and spiritual as silly rubbish and superstitious nonsense. They'd never, as long as they lived, be free from dwelling on it, but neither would they fool themselves. They brought the dwelling to the date: it was not the other way around. Duane continued the dialogue with his sister. "But what we could do," he suggested, "is carry out our plan ^Ö you know, for others. Not to make it last the rest of our lives, `cause I guess that's pretty well covered, but so it may last for Doctor Luka and Alex." Again, we touch on the theme of a memorial for the departed Bursteins; nothing cloying and festooned with lilies and mumbled incantations, but a living dynamic that might say by living well and bringing up your children free of the taint of taboo you live on in the happiness and fulfillment you allow them. It may not have been sacred, nor needed spoonfuls of psychic treacle, but what it was was theirs, and what was theirs was Alice, and what was Alice was theirs, and "their" rhymed with "share", and by now all readers are fervently hoping, "bare". "Want it back?" Alice asked Duane. "I mean this is the ultra sensitive age of the absolute in transcendent tolerance related to political correctness, so I'd be a knuckle dragging throwback if I claimed you were an Indian giver." "Well," the thirteen-year-old mused, "nothing hurts more than a false accusation so the only solution I can see is making your charge stick." "Plus," the girl observed, "you did buy it with your own money, so in a lot of ways it's yours." A-B Baby added his two cents worth: "You guys get this straightened out or I'm gonna be coaching the slap-down of the age." "Of the era," the cute girl sassed her b-b (as in big-bad) bro. "Of the eon," bro Duane added. "You guys keeping fooling around with epochs," A-B Baby said fake flat and stony, "and the resulting catastrophe is gonna exceed epic." "Then how `bout we wait a cotton-pickin' minute?" Duane said to his kid sis's delighted giggle. "Cotton?" the older brother squealed in mock horror, "how common. When it comes to pickin', newly-found little brother, I'm gonna take the liberty of suggesting^Å guess." "Hemp," the cutie said: "wool, canvas, nylon, corduroy, flannel, kapok, sisal, linen, taffeta, polyester, leather, or vinyl?" "Alice," the nineteen-year-old said, "should it turn out you're not smarter than Duane I'm going to take the both of you to the zoo for safekeeping." The girl wriggled in her half-brother's lap. "Probably the best idea," she intoned, "hyenas and black mambas; crocodiles and hippos ^Ö I mean who knows what devious plans you have for our tender innocence?" "Well, you can't accuse me of turning you into morons because it's impossible to convert anybody to what they already are. Right?" "Right," the child agreed, "but to be fair you should give Duane one more guess on the chance he might have known what to pick all along and just been kidding ^Ö I mean you do know how boys are, right?" "One more," A-B Baby agreed. "Silk," Duane said (why take chances). Silk it was and silk brought a heart-thudding end to their childish banter. A-B Baby reached for the thirteen-year-old's hands and guided them to the back of his mouse-haired sister, then placed his own on the girl's flat stomach. Luka and the older teen shuffled closer together to expedite the activities of the children in their laps as Alex, overcome by the excitement of what was happening, stood and peeled himself out of his underpants, standing close with his huge erection jutting wildly from beneath his eleven-year-old belly. "Are you like that?" Alice asked, looking up into her brother's eyes. "I'm a little older," Duane explained. Then the girl looked back over her shoulder. "How about you, A-B Baby?" "Guess I'm quite a bit older," the nineteen-year-old allowed. "And you, Doctor Luka?" the inquiring mind wanted to know. "Do the math," the physician said, taking acute advantage of a trendy phrase. Alice seemed satisfied with all their answers and sat still while Duane struggled for a moment with the clip on her silk training bra, then freed her of the wifty garment. Without being showy or lewd about it, Alice slowly raised her hands above her head, then reached behind her half-brother as she arched her chest. The males stared in wonder, not an innocent thought in the room in spite of the delicate, bud-like beauty of the child's nascent, cherry-size breasts. Luka guided Duane's hands to A-B Baby who in turn guided them to the girl as the doctor eased the thirteen-year-old to his feet and stooping for an instant lowered the young teen's underpants and freed them from his ankle, using the same moment to strip out of his own shorts. Alex shut off the portable DVD player on the basis of its amounting to bringing a burger to a banquet and reaching in a pocket of his backpack retrieved a bottle of baby oil. Standing at Luka's right flank he wet his hand with the useful fluid, then reached down and lubricated himself before snapping the plastic cap back in place. Luka eased Alex between himself and Duane, guiding the cute eleven-year-old gently inside the panting thirteen-year-old. While Alex was slowly entering Duane, A-B Baby stood behind Alice and stripped them both naked, again positioning himself behind the slim, long-legged ten-year-old with his near seven-inch erection thrust high between the child's silky thighs until it made contact with his half-brother's own rigid six-inch boner. Had they been able to move it would have been child-molesters on parade, but more-or-less trapped between the two hospital beds it amounted to a group hug, with the brown-eyed beauty in the middle of four very gentle and beautiful males. For long minutes the five writhed slowly and sensuously against each other, A-B Baby taking the bottle of baby oil from Alex so the preteen could fondle and caress the tight, slim body of the boy in whom he was now fully mounted. A-B Baby moved to his little sister's flank, wetting himself with the colorless oil, and Duane took the nineteen-year-old in his right hand as he reached behind with his left arm to encourage Alex to thrust fully up inside him. The nineteen year old, barely able to maintain his feet, thrust to his half brother's skillful touch and in moments was being fully masturbated, the tip of his huge erection firmly against the infinite softness of Alice's immature belly. There could have been more: Duane could have been up inside his pretty kid sister, and Luka could have been trying to Alex as he thrust rhythmically against the thirteen-year-old, but those eventualities would have to wait because A-B Baby was quaking and shuddering, his breath hissing wildly as every muscle in his athletic body strained to every thrust of Duane's oily fist. "Can I cum on you?" he gasped to Alice. "Yes," the girl panted, "I want to see what Duane's going to do up inside me." "He's gonna sperm like this," the young adult whimpered, showing what he meant by losing control and pulsing hard and fast, slicking the girl's pretty little stomach with stripe after stripe of his thick, adult semen. Half a minute passed as the hot, frantic release continued, then finally subsided as A-B Baby moved away and pulled Luka into his former position, reaching around in front of the handsome doctor and using his sperm-slicked right hand the way Duane had used his hand on him. "Show her, Luka," Alex whispered, "like you showed me on the boat." The words of the beautiful twink weren't necessary, but they helped and in two minutes another hot spray was soaking the panting girl's belly as she used both hands to spread the thick fluid up over her tiny new breasts, then drew her handsome kid brother's face to her so he could experiment on her salty nipples with his lips and tongue. As this occurred, A-B Baby and Luka positioned themselves on either side of the young couple, or threesome if the still-thrusting Alex is included, and began easing Duane against the dripping belly of the ten-year-old female. Quickly regaining their strength, the powerful young adults formed a sort of human jig so the three youngsters could concentrate on mating without having to worry about toppling over. Alex helped by reaching around in front of Duane with his right hand and guiding the young beauty's huge, hard boner against the yielding softness of the female child. Then all movement came to a virtual standstill. Hardly the place for humor, but one could rightly call it kidlock, with the free-flow of young lust now constrained to cautious movements as Duane was carefully guided in the tiny thrusts of his initial penetration of his beautiful baby sister. Exercising an extreme of control that would have been notable in one ten times his age, Alex emulated Duane, limiting himself to the gentlest possible little thrusts against the beautiful and tight bottom of the thirteen-year-old. Also, the two adults. Salved with each other's hot sperm and masturbated by Duane, they should have been rapidly submitting to wild abandon due to the overall sensuality of the situation (the three children between them) in spite of the ferocity of their recent releases, but no, they, like the children, were moving incrementally; thrusting almost delicately into the fists of the thirteen year old, though their deep, hard panting hinted at their true feelings. Alice was panting, too, using her hands both to urge Duane closer and deeper up inside her, and to help him as he stroked the powerful athletes on either side of the mating trio. And it's not as if they were helplessly frozen; captives of their passion. Some invention still existed. As Alice took over stroking Luka and her older brother, Duane used his freedom to again fondle the nymph's budding breasts, still slick with semen. The two also experimented with kissing, elaborating on the basics by virtue of Duane's little stunt of licking sperm from his sister's chest, then tonguing her tongue with the salty fluid until the chilled had lapped him clean (not that there was anything dirty about their youthful initiation) and it was time to dip his head for more. The candles flickered gently, the champagne coursed warmly, and the sighs and whispers were as romantic as they were laden with carnality and lust. The term "happy campers" comes to mind, and the happiest of all was Alice. "Will I be able to feel it happening inside me?" she asked Luka, the doctor. "Yes," he said. "You'll feel a distinct throbbing about once every two or three seconds as he releases his seed inside you." "How long will it last?" she whispered. "About ten time; half a minute or so." "Will I get pregnant from what you do to me tonight?" "You may be, already," Luka said, "because Duane's penis was covered with our sperm when he entered you, and all it takes is one." "Am I old enough to have a baby from you?" "Yes," the doctor said, "with careful medical supervision and a fairly early cesarean, you should be as safe as any woman." "But how about feeding my little girl," the girl asked. "I mean^Å" "If you get pregnant from us, your body will make all the required adjustments over the next eight months." "And how about if I don't?" she wondered. "The amount of semen you'll be exposed to will make you mature faster and more fully than you would if you remained celibate," Luka said. "How often can this happen?" "The whores of the old West used to take on fifty or more men a night," Luka said, "so it can happen as often as you want." "But there has to be a downside," the girl panted, and it was easy to detect the skepticism in her voice. "I'd suggest being very careful around horses," Luka did suggest. The world's funniest joke occurred shortly after nine/eleven. It goes like this: did Seinfeld enlist? Another funny credits Osama with putting the sky back in skyline. All of which is to say Luka's attempted levity was not exactly world-class, but it was enough. Alice giggled. She wiggled as she giggled. Duane felt the wiggle and totally and absolutely lost control, immediately. Alex sensed what was happening with the young teen, and followed suit, beginning a fast, hot spray deep inside Duane. A-B Baby and Luka were in seconds also lost, responding to the childish grunting by ejaculating as heavily as if they'd been starved of attention for days. Their orgasms ground and crashed; bounded, bounced, and ricocheted, Alice driving all as she shrieked wanton encouragement to her brother every time she felt his hard pulse high between her long, slim legs. What happened next occupied almost two hours. Alice was gently laid on her back, a pillow under her bottom, and first A-B Baby and then Luka carefully mounted her in the missionary position, and, lubricated by heavy deposits of semen, mated for a quarter hour before releasing directly into her immature womb. Samantha's name came up, and it was thought by all that carrying A-B Baby's baby might add to the tolerant and semi-atavistic motif of the household. Time would tell. Alex taught Duane to use his tongue and lips on both his half-brother and the handsome young doctor. Duane gently mounted the eleven-year-old, but at the end lost control so Alex wasn't able to discern the precise moment of his friend's cumming deep inside him. Other than that, the evening was perfect and ended at Luka and Samantha's apartment with some discussion of possible future involvement with denizens of County before all were sound asleep by ten o'clock, Luka's dreams sweet enough, but with an odd focus on the allure of deep-water trolling. The End To find more of my stories look under Feather Touch on ASSTR. Nifty has about 35 under different names, but all posted by Thomas@btl.net. Most of these were published under Bi Adult/Young Friends from 2001 ^Ö 2003, while "The Flyyy", "Clark Kent, Preteen" and a few others are filed under Sci-Fi/Fantasy. (Some stories have comprehensive bibliographies.) Posted by thomexxx@yahoo.com 11,140 xxx