Date: Mon, 30 Jun 2008 18:09:13 -0700 (PDT) From: Tim Stillman Subject: Gazebo Gazebo By Tim Stillman (For David--with many blue sky balloons--and thank you for touching whole worlds-this is a piece of one of those worlds touching back) Gazebo is such an ugly sounding and looking word. It sounds like a description of a duck whose back is broken. But it is a lovely place to be in summery time. Michael and I always called summer summery as long as I can remember. He is now in his 14th year. I his sister am 16 and am in love with Michael of the berry berry breath and the sweet smile and the midnight eyes that have little circular moons dancing round in them. Michael is in love with Gabe who is our gardener, for our family has more than a little money and our home is more than a house. Our grounds are extensive and in summery, says Papa, though he calls it summer, the huge acres of green grass are as green as paper money, and he laughs, does Papa, though he does not know about Michael and Gabe, nor does he know about Michael and I. I am called Delicate Flower by my parents. Sometimes Frail Flower. I am called Delicious by my brother. I was a sickly child and am still frail. And Michael and I love lying on the warm wood floor of the gazebo in summery, hidden from night view by the rose trellis flowers all round as he kisses me, my brother, and puts my hand to his penis that he has unbuttoned from his shorts as I hold the delicious delicate flower of Michael and press his forehead with my cool hand, for I have cool hands even in summery no matter how hot the air gets and we remember as he leans his small head on a delicate flower neck over to my exposed young girl's breasts. He sucks my nipples hard and so they are almost hurtful. I am the pale one. Michael is robust and the manly boy, but when we explored each other, he was a little boy and I was the big sister he tagged along behind. It was when he was 12 and small boned and hairless, save for the dark crop on his head. He was lying on my bed when I came out of the shower, naked, save for my towel, most surprised, actually more horrified really, to find him equally naked and on his side stroking his small hairless penis, with that laughing sweet goony look right at me. All over me. He says I was a sight, as I dropped the towel, thus accidentally in shock, exposing myself further, and turned to the wall to keep my breasts and my pubic hair hidden, thus giving him a good view of my backside as well. He laughed and I was mortified, for no male save my father in passing had ever seen me naked. I thought, are my breasts going to always be this small and is my pubic thatch ever going to grow as that of a real woman's? And my backside was it flat, to his eyes, and I could not stand to hear him laughing at me for I loved him dearly. And that was the first moment I knew I loved him-romantically. For I was flower frail and he was to become muscular but in that summery bedroom encounter, we were more alike than separate. Michael's little penis was indeed that as I felt it against my skin as he pressed against me, as I hurtled him away by pushing, and rushed to my bed, climbing under the too hot covers in the July afternoon, as he rushed to me all legs and arms and his penis jiggling this way and that; it was the first time I had seen a hard-on and it embarrassed me and excited me just as much. Just as immensely. He told me as he sat on the bed and did something he would do often after that, till Gabe won his heart with his beefy body and his large moonstruck eyes, though different mooneyes than Michael's, for Gabe was "slow." He too had been ill as a child. And frail. But he worked hard outside, all his life, and toughened up his body if not being able to toughen up his brain, and I feel an ass in saying that. Michael held my hand on his uncut penis and I felt it grow, so I had to look, hadn't I? I mean if a girl weren't to be thought odd, she had to look at that first penis growing even harder in my hand, all warm and stiff and a little wet, even if it was her brother's penis, I mean, it seemed, I framed it smilingly later, as if my duty. And Michael rolled his little boy body up against me, so I could see his rounded backside in the bureau mirror; oh he looked so adorable and tanned already from the summery sun, and he rough housed with me, being careful however, and kissed my on the mouth which I wiped off with my hand and thus distracting me with that, clever little fellow, he pulled the covers down and saw my breasts up close and my nipples hard with excitement, to which he put his mouth, the left one, and his fingers, the right one, as I gasped in utter sexual joy in my canopy bed with my brother who finally coaxed me to pull the covers all the way down, and there I lay on my back shivering in the summery naked before my naked brother. It was, in a word, wonderful. He suckled on my nipples like a little boy. When of course that was what he was, the same mouth he would use to suck Gabe's ugly hairy cock one night in the summery in our gazebo, which hurt me terribly. Michael and I were of the same blood, and it seemed right to me that first afternoon that we should only make love with each other and he sat on me, my Michael and wiggled his penis back and forth. He dared me to take it in my mouth, leaning forward to let me. I brushed it back and he giggled in my girl pink room and he tickled it on my lips and pressed, but I would not let him do it--at first. He lay off me and peered at all my body while I stroked my brother's penis and tiny balls. He examined every part of me as though it would be important later on, or was that my own reasoning? I saw all of him. His pale chest. His prominent ribs and collar bone, his weak chin, his knock-knees, his scrawny frame, his little butt, his flat feet. He examined my vagina and his mouth was in an O of wonder. He licked it like a puppy licking it, with his wide night eyes peering up so like a kid on Christmas morning at my girl breast with the nipples so rubbery painfully tight, his fingers traducing them as he licked my pussy and gradually gradually began to suck as I told him how. I would watch him masturbate (that first shoot of silver was quite a shock or me) and he would watch me. It was so intensely erotic, my mind can't say. As gradually I learned to play with his tiny rose nipples so pale they were hard to see, as I sucked them and he played with all of me, as we danced our fingers on each other and reveled in each other's nakedness and in our own; he said my vagina was pinker than anything in my pink room (my mother overdid that little girl stuff sometimes, I think) and finally two afternoons later, I let him inside me. I was taller and more arms and legs than he, and as he fucked me his head came to my breasts and only a little higher; I helped stuff him in me and it was like magic and forth of July and summery forever more; we were the two happiest children ever born. It hurt when he broke my cherry and he was so concerned about that and the little blood emitted; he kept apologizing and I kept hugging him and my legs around his little boy body, as he and I got the rhythm together and became non-virgins, as his cum entered me and splashed and he began to stop, but I whispered desperately, no not yet a while longer and I held his boy rump as he continued on, and then I came and gripped his penis, he said, harder than the times before he came, and said I did it so hard that he came again. And we said we loved each other. And meant it. It was too dangerous to keep doing this in the house, so we settled late night meetings in the gazebo. He brought me a mum the first time, culled from our garden, and brought me my favorite chewing gum, vanilla flavored, the second time, and was such the little gentleman and charmed me on our dates--for that was what they were---and we would so delicately undress-me the frail flower-him the growing power of the sun--we delighted in our growing pubic hair and his penis getting bigger and I did take it in my mouth, and he said O Sister! And it was so sexual and so warm. In winters and Falls we made love in the storage room outside but it was just that-a storage room and made us feel wrong somehow. And the how wrong it was was that final, though I did not know how final it was to be, when we were naked in the summery and I pretended I had not seen one month three nights four hours ago my brother, my love, sucking the gross cock of Gabe in this same gazebo. I have never cried like that and shall never let anyone, even and especially Michael, hurt me like that again. I denied I saw it and I denied the joy on their faces, the slack face of Gabe and the ruddy strong full face of my brother. They had only their penises out side their clothes and I thought I was not frail enough, for I wanted to die like a flower in wintertime. Gabe was frail only in his mind, not his body; I could never compete with that or the world Gabe knew and the world he would or had already introduced Michael into. Michael had been doing that and I supposed other things for perhaps a while or some time, and as Michael was fucking me this final night in the gazebo or anywhere else, as I held my more womanly legs around him and he was close to cumming, I saw Gabe at the doorway of the white latticed door way of the Gazebo, and I let Michael hump me-love was gone--Gabe was the gazebo, the word and his name fit together; he was it and the garden and the brute physical power to keep the world at bay and bearable. I was a flower in summer good for summer alone, for Michael would need adults now, an adult world of work and grime and patience and strength, because Michael was tender in his mind and did not want to go from me, not really because of me anymore, but because he was scared. I looked at Gabe as Michael fucked me and Gabe was crying as Michael came and I was an orifice because I pulled away from Gabe's lover. Michael as usual collapsed on me and whispered frail flower in the summery summery. I kissed his mouth. I told him to get dressed, we had company. Michael in horror it was mother or father pulled off me and hid his genitals as he turned on his back next to me, his mouth coming up with some kind of explanation, though none would possibly suffice, then tense more when he saw who it was, that big shambling man in the gardening work clothes, eyes weeping. Michael then turned to me, trying to explain when no explanation was possible, but he saw in my eyes, as I pushed gently away from him, as I unashamedly dressed, for Gabe had hidden his eyes and had turned his back in propriety. "You are going to your life, Michael," I whispered to him. "I will always remember. Remember that sweet funny sexy kid brother you were and how you made a frail flower bloom." I kissed him on the lips, and it was a hello to the world kiss, not a sad goodbye one. And I took Michael's hand and put it in Gabe's. Who startled at the touch. "We'll be friends forever, Frail Flower," Michael said. As Gabe spoke in his gruff kitteny voice, "I will tend the gardens free of charge the rest of always." He was such a sweet man, such a lonely man. He would not be lonely again for I also saw the adoration in their eyes for one another. "Run," I said. "Run and be happy. And if they give you any lip, just say BITE ME." We laughed and there was to be a little more of summery for all of us. Don't anybody tell you there is no magic in the world. We three have experienced more than our share. And are here to tell the tale I just told. Be well. For we decree it so. In the gazebo of the summery summery where you are too.