Date: Sat, 21 Apr 2007 15:12:17 -0400 From: "volpone69@earthlink.net" Subject: A Beautiful Boy The old man shuffled down the aisle that ran between two rows of bunks in the oak-paneled dormitory. With the aid of a dim flashlight he found the bed he was looking for and touched the shoulder of the boy asleep there. The boy was perhaps 11, and the old man could see he was a special one, beautiful with his jet black hair, now tousled with sleep. The boys stirred in response to the touch. "Get up, boy," the old man hissed softly, "get up, now, he don't like to be kept waiting." The boy sat up, confused. "What?" he asked. "Hush, boy, mustn't wake the others. Come along, he wants you." "Who wants me?" he asked. "He does," the old man said, "the Master." The boy sat up and set his feet on the floor, still confused. "And best leave your PJ's here, he likes it that way," the old man said. "Why?" said the boy, still dazed. "Do as I say, lad, it's the way he wants it." The boy slipped out of his pajamas and stood nude before the old man. He was tall for his age, lean, coltish, with startlingly clear grey eyes, still heavy now with sleep. He followed the old man back up the aisle to the heavy doors into the hallway. The flagstone floor of the hall was cold to his bare feet as they made their way from there, through the refectory, and into the chapel. The old man nudged him gently into the chapel and closed the door, leaving him alone there except for the presence in the semi-darkness at the front of the chapel. There in an intricately carved high-backed chair sat a figure in black robes and hood. A hand extended from the robe and beckoned the boy forward. A single candle burned at the altar, shedding insufficient light to show the figure's face. Trembling, the boy came forward. "Don't be afraid, boy," the Figure said. "Let me see you." The candle flickered. "Oh, but you are a pretty one," the Figure said in a deep whisper. "Come closer." The boy was now just a yard from the Figure. "Turn around, boy," the Figure said. The boy complied. He heard a deep sigh, almost a groan. The boy's buttocks were perfect hemispheres, white, smooth, innocent. "Turn back again," said the Figure. Again the boy did as he was told. "Touch your nipples, boy," he said softly. The boy's hands moved slowly up his sides and to his thin chest to the two pink rosebuds. He touched them gently and as he did, he felt a strange stirring in his penis, a pink, young boy's cock. It began to grow. The figure groaned softly. The boy's penis stiffened fully, thin as a pencil, and his hairless scrotum tightened. The Figure began to rock on his chair, slowly and then more rapidly, his hands gripping the arm rests, until at last he gasped and groaned as if in pain. And then there was silence. The Figure waved the boy away to leave. As he reached the back of the chapel, the door swung open and the old man was there waiting for him. Silently they returned to the dormitory and to his bunk. "There's a good boy, don't go telling anyone about this. They'll not believe you in any case," the old man whispered. The boy climbed nude into his bed and waited for the old man to leave. Then he kicked off his covers and rubbed his penis until it pulsed and pulsed again and again, trying to spurt what was not yet there. He fell asleep atop the covers, hoping that the other boys would notice him in the morning.