Date: Tue, 26 Oct 2010 22:33:49 +0000 From: Josh Long Subject: A Circle Of Hazel Trees: Matt's Sacrifice A Circle of Hazel Trees A collection of short stories, each complete in itself, but linked to the others by a common setting and interwoven events. Warning: these stories, all works of fiction and imagination, contain graphic descriptions of sex between an adult male and teenage boys. If reading such material is illegal in your state or country, or because of your age, you are advised not to continue. For those who do continue, I hope the time spent reading them is considered time enjoyably spent. Matt's Sacrifice Sunlight filtered through the hazel trees, light falling on the two statues that David Masters had placed there. Young, thirteen year old Roy's words, that `This is a place for cock' had taken root in his mind and given him the idea of getting these two statues and placing them in this circle of hazel trees. It had certainly been a place for cock as far as young Roy was concerned; after his initial experience, he'd been there day after day, presenting his arse for David fuck and plunder and his cock to be sucked, his spunk swallowed. It was almost as though the boy had been possessed; after his first time there, the moment he entered the tree circle he stripped himself naked and practically begged David to fuck him, and even on his first visit he'd been almost desperate for David to seduce him. Wondering if there was, indeed, something special about this circle of trees, David had taken another boy there, a dark haired fourteen year old delight, but that boy had complained instantly that the place was far too cold to sit in and refused to even enter the circle and David had promptly dropped all ideas about attempting to seduce him. Roy, however, continued to visit, strip and get fucked with a regular, uncomplaining frequency. David had asked him if he ever felt cold in the tree circle, but Roy had dismissed the idea with a snort of derision. "Warmer in here than it is outside," he'd snorted, and that had been on a day colder than the one on which the fourteen year old had refused to enter. David had idly speculated, with the help of some weed and alcohol, if there was any correlation between a boy's perceptions of the temperature inside the tree circle and his potential availability for seduction. It was, he knew, pure fantasy, but Roy found it warm in there and fucked like a rabbit, whereas Brian had thought it cold and David had lost all interest in, what he had until then, considered a very desirable bit of fourteen year old flesh. This speculation led to the idea of the statues. The circle of hazel trees was a place he went to wank and young Roy came to for fucking, so, whatever else it might be, it was certainly `a place for cock'. It didn't take long for him to locate what he was looking for on the internet, reproduction casts of Michelangelo's `David' and the magnificent statue of Antinous, the lover of the Roman Emperor Hadrian, an original of which was in the Archaeological Museum in Naples. Both, of course, were nudes of teenage boys and they seemed to fit perfectly in the setting of the hazel circle. Roy's comment of "Fuckin' hell, I bet they were fuckin' good shags," when he first saw them, was, David thought, an apt, if somewhat unsophisticated, appreciation of Greco Roman and Italian Renaissance art. The next step, David thought, was to run a very unscientific test on the reliability of what he now thought of as his `Shrine to Cock', as an indicator of a boy's potential bedability. A simple experiment, just take another boy there and see if he found it warm or cold. If cold, then forget him, if warm, follow it up. It had to be a boy David had no preconceptions about, no feelings that he might or might not give, for that would be no real test; a boy he fancied, obviously, but a boy he'd made no move on whatsoever. He mentally flicked through the boys in his classes, ignoring many, lingering over some until he came to Matt. Matt was perfect, the ideal subject for his experiment. Fifteen years old, tall and well built, good looking with dark blond hair and deep blue eyes, he also had superb legs, smooth and full thighed, everything a boy admirer like David Masters could wish for. He also gave off not one, single sexual vibe. He was one of those incredibly rare teenage males who had absolutely no interest in matters sexual. His hormones did their thing, of course, his balls manufactured sperm and his right hand encouraged the surplus supplies to leave by the traditional route and method, but no images of naked girls filled his mind to accompany the rhythmical movements of his hand, no images of men or boys either; sex was supremely unimportant to him. He was a true innocent and would not have recognised a move made on him by either sex, which made any such moves, as far as David Masters was concerned, a complete waste of time that could be far better spent chasing after boys who did have an idea of what sex was all about; boys who just might be willing to let a cock hungry teacher inside their underwear. No problem in getting Matt out to his cottage; David was well known amongst the boys for paying a bit over the odds for lads to work on his garden and woodland, and without accompanying rumours about the reasons for getting them there. Yes, some boys ended their day's work with a relaxing fuck, but they weren't going to tell anyone about it, and the others, often known amongst their peers to be active girl shaggers, were numerous enough to eliminate any possibility of the spread of teenage gossip. That beer, cigarettes and even weed were freely available for any who wanted it was well known and was an added incentive to boys who wanted to earn a little cash, but David's selection of his bed targets was rigidly professional and he never took a boy home as part of the seduction process; for those, seduction had been completed long before. The only exception had been Roy, and that had been completely unplanned. Matt accepted the invitation to spend a Saturday clearing undergrowth and cutting fallen branches into winter logs without a second thought; the cash would be useful, he had nothing else to do, and, anyway, David was well liked by the boys and well known for supplying the beer and stuff, so a day's work at his place was no major hardship. He waited outside his house for David to collect him, dressed as had been suggested, in an outer layer of old, but bramble proof, jeans and jacket, with a much lighter layer beneath. "You'll get well hot and sweaty doing the undergrowth," David had told him, "And you'll probably want to shed the heavy stuff when you're attacking the branches." Matt had opted for shorts and tee shirt as his lighter layer without any idea that the exposing of his delicious legs would add an extra cash bonus to the already generous payment he'd been offered. "Do you?" David asked, offering a cigarette packet to the boy once they were safely clear of his house. Matt hesitated, he did smoke, but never where his parents might see or smell it – they most certainly would not approve – and not at school either, that could also get him into trouble, and trouble was something Matt avoided. "It's alright, isn't it?" the boy asked, "I mean, you won't tell anyone?" "Of course I won't," David smiled broadly, and, daringly, added, "All your little secrets are safe with me." "Thanks," almost shyly the boy took the offered packet and lighter, extracted a cigarette, lit it and placed the packet and lighter on the dashboard, utterly oblivious to the innuendo in the second part of David's answer. The morning sun was already shining brightly with a promise of a hot day to come; "You'll get well warm in that kit attacking the undergrowth," David commented as he drove out into the countryside and towards his hamlet, "Hope you took my advice and put some lighter stuff on underneath." "Yeh," Matt puffed out smoke, "Me P.E. shorts an' tee shirt." "Good choice," David agreed, with a little surge of anticipation; he'd seen Matt in those white cotton P.E. shorts, shorts that reached no further down than mid thigh, unlike the fashionable, knee length things that were the teenage summer leisure wear of choice, and that he so detested simply because they concealed what David thought was far better revealed. Even if nothing else developed, he was going to have a couple of hours of unrestricted viewing of Matt's gorgeous legs and pleasant images to conjure up later when he gave his cock some furious exercise. "Can't be all bad," he thought to himself. Matt drew in his breath sharply as they came in sight of David's cottage, standing on its own at the edge of the hamlet, woodland to the sides and behind. "Something wrong?" That intake of breath hadn't been awe and admiration of David's cottage and its surroundings, it had been something else entirely. David was something of an expert at reading and judging the reactions of teenage boys, reactions to a wide variety of things; educational, emotional and, of course, sexual, but he had no idea what had caused Matt to gasp so audibly. "No," Matt muttered in a low, croaking whisper, and then again, louder and more in control, "No, just sorta surprised, that's all." "What at?" David asked; there was nothing as far as he could see that should have caused the boy any particular surprise, but, whatever it was, it had certainly had an effect on the boy. "I dunno," Matt tried to cover up, "Just, well.....it's sorta different from the other places." He wasn't lying, it was different, very different, but there was no way he was going to let on about just how different he felt it was. "Certainly older," David said, "Most of the other cottages around are Victorian, this one goes back to the Seventeenth Century." `Goes back a lot further than that,' Matt thought, but he said nothing, he was a fifteen year old boy, not an architectural expert, and there was no possibility of him explaining why he thought, no, he knew, this place was an awful lot more than just three or four hundred years old. The cottage itself was alright, he decided when he got out of the car by the front door, he got no funny feelings from the cottage, it was the surroundings that were strange, the woodland, something in the woodland. He didn't know why he knew that, it was an instinctive, gut feeling, and probably nothing more than the workings of his over-active imagination. He shrugged off the feeling, took the tools David offered him, and accompanied him into the woodland. He worked happily enough, hacking at the tangled undergrowth, his imagination treating it like a computer game. The undergrowth was alive; green, spiky monsters intent of overwhelming the innocent woodland trees. A slash here, a whirling turn and a backslash there and more of the relentless invaders fell until he had created a clearing round a threatened tree, and, once he'd rescued it from the brambles, he pulled and tore at the strangling vines of `old man's beard', ripping them from the defenceless branches. Slowly he fought his way through the massed ranks of the enemy, freeing tree after tree, miraculously escaping even minor flesh wounds thanks to the protective armour of his thick jeans and coat and the industrial work gloves that covered his hands. "Fantastic, Matt," he heard as he was swinging his sword, a wicked, curved blade known as a sickle, at the legs of more of his green enemy. "Get the rake and drag that stuff into one of the clearings you've made, as far from any trees as you can. We'll have a bonfire later." Matt lowered his blade and surveyed the devastation he had wreaked on the enemy brambles, even the remaining ones to his left were too weak to be any threat to the temple now. `Temple'? Why on earth had he called it that? It was a circle of hazel trees, nothing more. But, even as he looked at it, he knew it was something more and the hairs on the back of his neck rose as a shiver ran through him. "Lunch when you've done that," David's voice cut through his reverie, "Come on up to the cottage; you can get your armour off and have a bit of a wash before we eat." `How did he know I was wearing armour?' Matt thought before he realised David was referring to his coat and jeans. `Daft sod,' he thought, slightly embarrassed with himself at being caught in his mental game. He raked up the chopped undergrowth into a huge pile, far enough away from any trees to cause them harm when the bonfire was lit, and turned to make his way up to the house. As he turned the circle of hazel trees came into his sight and another shiver ran through him, not a shiver of cold but a hair prickling shiver of something like recognition. It was nonsense, of course, he'd never been here before, nor had he seen any similar tree circles, but Matt did not dismiss it as nonsense. He'd had moments like this before, shivers from nowhere, when, as a young boy, he'd holidayed with his granny in Cornwall. Sometimes in river valleys, sometimes in clusters of rocks or on open hillsides he'd shivered for no reason. Far from being surprised, his granny had simply said, "Ah....seen the old ones, have you," and declined to answer any of his childish questions about who or what `old ones'. She'd said a lot of other things that had made no sense to a boy not yet eight years old. Things like "You may be your mother's son, but you're not your mother's boy," and, "Don't wonder about the future till the past finds you, and then it'll all be the present anyway." He'd asked his mother about them and she'd just smiled and said, "Oh, granny's Cornish," as though that explained everything and when, with relentless juvenile logic he'd said that if granny was Cornish, then his mother must be as well, she'd said that she was, but lost it in London, which made no sense to him. It still bothered him that, if his mother was no longer Cornish, and his father, a Londoner, most certainly wasn't, and he'd been born in Wiltshire, how come he'd got those shivers and his Granny had said he'd seen the `old ones'? And now he had those shivers again, here in Wiltshire; were there `old ones' in Wiltshire as well as Cornwall, he wondered. These shivers were different, though, stronger and had recognition behind them. Not, he suddenly thought, not him recognising the tree circle – which, without knowing why he'd instinctively called a temple – but the tree circle recognising him! Which was utterly stupid, and even for a boy with Cornish blood and a granny who talked of `old ones', something that could only be a figment of his imagination, an imagination that was always active and which had been working overtime while he chopped down those brambles. He took another look at the tree circle, shrugged off the idea that it was calling to him as nonsense and made his way up to the cottage for a much needed lunch. Once there, he gratefully stripped off his heavy coat and jeans, peeled off his sweat soaked tee shirt, thankful that he'd been sensible enough to bring another with him, intending to wear it on the way home. He had a quick, but decent wash, put on the clean shirt and presented himself for lunch. He completely failed to notice how David's eyes went, instantly and admiringly, to his exposed thighs and then to his groin, where his fifteen year old equipment was, if not obviously outlined, not concealed to total oblivion, by his cotton shorts. He hadn't even considered the possibility that his package might be outlined, or even actually glimpsed, when he'd decided that morning, that two layers were enough, and that a third would lead to uncomfortably sweaty balls on a day as warm and sticky as this. Now the air circulating under his shorts and round his otherwise unencumbered bits felt nothing less than refreshing, and nothing more either. The idea that Mr. Masters might be the least bit interested in his lack of underwear never entered his head. David gazed his fill on Matt's full, smooth thighs, secure in his understanding that the boy would probably not even notice, and if he did, then a comment like, `Just checking none of those brambles got through your jeans,' would be accepted at face value. Delightful as the boy was to look at, David was glad that he didn't have Matt marked down as a seduction prospect; `If he wanks at all,' David thought, `He probably does it when he's asleep, and without any dreams either!' David was not quite right about that; when Matt did deal with his cock, which was never more than once a week, he did it with the same attitude as he would deal with an irritating itch – it was a convenient way to get rid of the ache in his balls, nothing more and nothing less. He spunked directly into a handkerchief, regarding his sperm as no different from the stuff he blew out of his nose. "What we doin' this afternoon?" Matt asked as he wolfed his way through a huge plate of cold ham and chips, accompanied by a token lettuce leaf and a slice of tomato. "Thought we could tidy up that path down to the tree circle," David said between mouthfuls; "Then we can relax with a beer or three before getting the bonfire going." Working on the path was ideal for David's very non-scientific experiment; they'd get gradually closer to the hazel circle and he'd be able to see and judge the boy's reactions. Matt froze, a fork with four chips impaled on it half way to his mouth, a mouth, David couldn't help thinking, which was wide enough to take his thick cock with room to spare. The tree circle! Those trees that Matt had felt had somehow recognised him, even faintly called to him; now he was to get even closer to them, perhaps even go inside the circle! He didn't know if he should be scared or excited, but what he did know was that those trees were no ordinary patch of woodland! Matt somehow made the fork move again, push the chips into his mouth. "Nothin' heavy then," he said, "Not like this mornin'. No loggin' or stuff?" "Nah," David smiled, "You done loads this morning, more than earned your money; so we'll just do some light stuff and then relax for the rest of the afternoon." "Sounds cool," Matt agreed, hiding the fact that he was still very concerned about those trees! Somehow he was connected with them, and they with him, but why, how and for what reason? He had no idea, not even in his fantasy worlds could he come up with anything that might make any sort of sense. He tried to imagine his granny was here and he could ask her, she would know, but all her conjured up spirit would say was, "It's the old ones," and that was no help whatsoever; even Matt knew that tree circle was a place of the old ones, but he'd been to dozens of places like that and none of them had ever called to him like this one did. He tried to ignore all that stuff as he cleared the path edges, grateful that he was in just shirt and shorts now, not the thick, bramble defying clothing of the morning, but the closer he came to the trees the stronger their lure became. At first it was just a pull, a desire to see inside, but as he worked his way nearer he could hear the rustle of the hazel leaves and he began to imagine that they were calling to him. When he was some ten yards from the entrance he knew, he knew he didn't imagine, he knew he knew, that those leaves were whispering to him; he could hear them even over the noise his power trimmer was making as he strimmed back the growth around the path. He couldn't identify the words, but he knew they were words, and even when he stopped the trimmer so he could listen properly, he still couldn't make out what the leaves were saying. He should have been frightened, of course, terrified even, but he wasn't; he'd come across so many places where his granny's `old ones' had been, and not been frightened and had learned, like his granny, to just accept them. They were there, but they were part of a long dead past, and, whatever they may once have been, they had no power now, not in the present, the here and now of the twenty first century. Except that this place did still have power, power at least over the imaginative mind of a fifteen year old boy of Cornish blood who still had traces of what his granny would have called `the sight', and when he was five yards from the entrance to the circle, the leaves spoke clearly at last. "Enter the temple," they whispered and rustled, "Make your sacrifice and give us life again." "Oh, yeh," he said out loud to the leaves, and didn't feel the least bit stupid for talking to trees, "And what sacrifice might that be, then?" "Enter and you will know," the leaves answered, and then fell silent, all rustling suddenly stilled. "When the past finds you, your future will be your present;" his granny's words from long ago popped suddenly into his mind, and in a moment of revelation he realised what she had meant. This tree circle was ancient, as ancient as anything in Cornwall, and it had found him, recognised him: the past had found him! Now he could decide; he could enter the circle and make whatever sacrifice there was to be made, or he could turn and leave: he had two different futures to choose from, the only problem was that he had no idea of what either future contained. He leaned on the strimmer and stared at the now silent trees; they held no threat and they held no welcome, they were simply there. That they were, or once, long, long ago had been, a temple, he had no doubts about; he had spent far too many young summers in Celtic and pre-Celtic Cornwall to even question that. With detached inquisitiveness his eyes searched for rocks that may have been carved on, the ubiquitous spirals that the Celts marked their special places with, but there were no rocks here. "What is it you want from me?" he asked the trees, though this time he did not voice the words, but the answer came nonetheless. "Your sacrifice." That, he thought, was not over encouraging! `Sacrifice' had a very final ring to it and Matt had no desire to end up being finalised! So what, exactly, was a sacrifice? Okay, in its most extreme form, it meant giving a life, but it didn't have to mean that, did it? You could sacrifice an ideal, an ambition, even some form of personal possession. All it really meant, Matt decided, was that you gave away something you could never have back, never have again, and that you did it willingly, that, surely, was the whole point of a sacrifice. Walking into a circle of trees would certainly not mean he was going to end up dead; even his fertile imagination couldn't stretch that far. And, anyway, there was nothing threatening about a circle of trees. No branch was suddenly going to lash out and smash his head in, because this was real life, not a computer game. Intrigued, Matt took the last five steps into the entrance to the tree circle. "Matt," David called from the other side of the trees where he had been working, "Time to stop now, I reckon. I'll just get some beers from the fridge and we can relax for a bit." There was no reply, but that didn't bother David, there was no particular reason why the boy should reply, and David made his way to the cottage to load up the coolbox. `Beer and fags,' he thought, `And we can see how he reacts to going in those trees.' No sign of Matt as David made his way back along the path, but that was not a matter for concern. He could have gone into the undergrowth for a pee, or even into the hazel circle to sit in the shade, and if he had gone in the circle, then he obviously hadn't experienced the coldness that Brian had instantly complained of. He could ask the boy if he'd felt anything strange about the trees when he got in there, though by now, he smiled to himself, young, super-innocent Matt, was probably shielding his eyes from the two statues of nude teenagers! He stopped half a pace into the circle, his jaw dropped and his mouth hung open, wide enough to catch flies, if there had been any flies to catch in that insect free place. His brain whirred, trying to decide if what his eyes were seeing was real or some sort of illusion, and, deciding it was real, he slowly lowered the coolbox, placing it softly on the grass floor. Matt was in the circle, but not as David had expected to see him! The boy had removed his shirt and shorts, which lay, neatly folded, just in front of David's feet. The now naked boy lay on his back in the very centre of the circle, arms by his sides, eyes closed. That, in itself, would have been enough to cause David to stop in shocked amazement, but there was more wonder to perceive. Matt was erect, his perfect organ pointing a rigid forty five degrees upwards, and, most incredible of all, a narrow shaft of sunlight had found its way through the hazel leaves and played, like a torch beam, on the boy's erect shaft. "Beautiful," David breathed, almost silently, "Absolutely beautiful!" His eyes devoured the boy's nakedness, from his wide shoulders to his broad chest with the two, pink-brown nipples standing out hard from the smooth skin, then to the curve from ribs to flat stomach, the swell of his hips and the amazing wonder of his full, firm, hairless thighs. Lastly David's eyes focussed on the boy's centre: plump, full balls, again with not one, single wisp of hair to mar their perfection; a cock that was perfect in shape, the shaft a geometric cylinder apart from the bulge of the soft underside, until it reached the helmet ridge, clearly visible, even in its sheath of skin, and finally, the head itself, flared at the base, but tapering to almost a point at its tip; an arrow head to pierce slit or hole with its barb of helmet ridge behind it to stimulate whatever flesh it had entered. The boy's balls had a reddish tinge, contrasting with the pale cream of his splendid thighs, and with the milk white hardness of his cock, its blue vein visible, but not despoiling the perfection of his shaft. Nor was anything spoiled by the intrusion of hair to blur the perfect shape of his genitals; pubic hair there was, the boy was fifteen after all, but that too was perfection, as though it had been drawn by an artist conscious that such growth should adorn and not detract from what lay below. A triangle of dark gold hair on the boy's lower stomach only, on just his pubis, edges sharply defined as though they had been trimmed into shape with delicate care. Not one single hair strayed to the base of his shaft, and none invaded the joint between thigh and torso. David hardly dared to breathe; he was only a few feet away from the boy and any sound, any movement, would disturb him, cause him to open his eyes and David was certain that panic and mortification would follow. Whatever it was that had led to Matt doing this, David knew that it had not been done for his benifit. If it had been Roy he'd discovered lying there, naked and erect, the opening of the boy's eyes would have been instantly followed by the opening of his mouth, and words like, `Come on, then, I'm fuckin' gaggin' for it,' heralding rampant, uninhibited sex; but this was Matt, not Roy, and Matt didn't even know what rampant, uninhibited sex was! He must content himself with gazing for a moment, implanting the image in his mind, and then creep quietly away, taking the coolbox with him, leaving no evidence that he had witnessed the boy's complete beauty. He could call loudly then, from some distance, wake the boy, give him chance to cover himself again with shirt and shorts, and then return to the tree circle, giving the boy no clue that his secret had been discovered. But David did not creep softly away because something was happening in front of him and, instead of leaving, he sank to his knees to watch. The shaft of sunlight was moving, moving slowly up and down the perfect length of the boy's tube, and, as it moved, a smile grew on the boy's face, and David knew, even though Matt's eyes were shut, that his expression was now one of almost bliss. The sunlight caressed the boy's rampant organ, causing it to throb and jerk. No movement from the boy's hands, no instinctive reaching for his cock to rub and pull it; his arms lay still and unmoving beside him as the warmth of the sun led him to orgasm. David watched the boy's steady breathing become shallow, he watched the tensing of his stomach and thighs, he watched the boy's lips part, draw in one deep breath, saw chest rise with the filling of lungs and then stay still, every muscle of the boy's glorious body tense and taught, until, accompanied by a silent sigh, his cock erupted. The first shot flew past the boy's face, landing on the grass beside him, the second did the same, but past the other cheek this time; a volley followed, cock jerking sideways with the force of the ejection, sending sperm to the side of the boy, sending it with such force that all reached the grass, not a single drop landing on the boy's perfect flesh. "Fuck," David breathed in awe, "When did you last spunk!" David was trapped now; he couldn't move quietly away, leave the boy to himself. Matt's eyes would open any second now, his orgasm completed, and David, just a few feet away, would be unable to pretend, to deny that he had witnessed all. He would have to reassure the boy, comfort him, tell him that what he had seen had been wonderful and that it would remain forever a secret between them; and all of that, he knew, would still leave Matt in screaming embarrassment, and their immediate journey home would be conducted in unbreakable silence. Instead of opening his eyes, Matt opened his lips; "You must complete my sacrifice." The words were in a low, flat monotone; the voice was Matt's, but completely devoid of expression. `He's drugged, or in some sort of trance or something,' David thought; this was nothing like the Matt he knew, nothing like the behaviour of the boy he had brought to his cottage this morning. But there was no mistaking the meaning of the boy's words, no matter what tone of voice they had been uttered in. Slowly, Matt parted his legs, stretching them almost impossibly wide, almost as though he was doing the splits lying on his back! Matt was offering his hole, offering it to a man he hadn't even glanced at since he had entered the hazel circle, offering it without opening his eyes even for a fraction of a second! `He wants me to fuck him as though he's a woman,' David understood, `As though his cunt's at the front, not the back!' David had fucked boys in that position before, front to front, though usually the boy would draw up his knees, make his hole easier to enter. It was a difficult, but wonderful position, cock having to work its way into hole at the wrong angle, but it made the resulting fuck a fantastic experience. It was not a position to try with a virgin, though, and Matt was very much a virgin; boys, in David's experience, just did not come as virginal as Matt! `He's not been prepared, not opened at all, and certainly not even lubed up,' David thought as he stripped off his own shirt and shorts; `There's no way I could get into him in any position, let alone this one!' It would, he thought, be no more than easing his prick into the boy's crack, a token gesture; but, even so, the thought of getting his cock anywhere near Matt's hole had made him hard as a rock! Carefully he worked himself between the boy's wide parted legs, kneeling before the glory of Matt's smooth, partly opened cheeks. Equally carefully, he guided the tip of his prick to the dry, tightly puckered entrance, wondering how the boy would react when he felt cock on his hole. He pushed, so gently it was almost no push at all, anything more would be bound to cause pain and that would ruin the moment. Amazed, he felt the boy's hole begin to open, felt his cock head begin to enter. This was impossible, some sort of dream he must be having, except..........except that this had happened before....happened here...happened when he had first had Roy. He hadn't completed his entry then, the boy had stopped him, wanting to save being properly fucked till later, but he could have gone all the way in, done it with no lube, no preparation. And now it was happening again! And this time, the boy did not stop him! His cock slid into the hot, wet, velvet, gripping heaven of the boy's arse and the boy's sigh was a mixture of satisfaction, relief and completion. The glove of the boy's love tube gripped David's cock firmly, as tight as any virgin, but so soft and caressing at the same time. Slowly David lowered his body onto the boy till their stomachs and chests were pressed together. David could feel the rigidity of the boy's organ as it throbbed between their tight pressed stomachs, and he could feel, as well, that pressing their bodies together had eased his cock full length into the boy, that he was in to the root. He moved slowly, very slowly, almost imperceptibly, easing his cock out and in, sliding it with every thrust and counter thrust over the boy's prostrate, caressing that magic spot with every slow movement. No building up of speed, no increasing the strokes over the nub of bliss that lurks inside all boys, just soft, gentle caresses. Matt made not a sound as prick invaded him, slid slowly in and out of his velvet tunnel of love, gently stroked his point of bliss and guided him to another world; his future that was now his present. The look on his face was one of beatitude, soft breath easing over his slightly parted lips, lips that David would, in any other fuck, now be glued to, but this was a time for cock and hole, for the pressing together of warm, naked flesh; the battle of tongues could happen later. David spread his own legs, almost painfully wide, wanting, needing to feel his legs in contact with the boy's, to have every possible inch of their flesh connected, and the wider he spread his legs, the better the fuck became. His whole being now was cock, just as Matt's was hole; man cock and boy hole united, joined in timeless union. He felt Matt's solid tube erupt again, felt the hot sticky flow of spunk between their close pressed flesh, spunk forced out by the relentless little movements of their bodies on Matt's prick and by the soft caressing of his prostrate; but it was not an orgasm that caused the boy's body to contract and jerk, not additional fierce gripping of his bowels round the prick inside him, and David continued his slow, gentle rhythm inside the boy, gritting his teeth and clenching his own muscles to hold back his spunk. Not yet, not time yet. And still the fuck went on. David's legs were screaming at being so wide stretched, the boy, he thought, must be almost in agony, but something in his mind told him that no sacrifice can be without pain, and the boy had felt no pain at being penetrated and this was the substitute. Again the boy spunked, more sperm joining that which was drying between them and still his cock did not soften. `How much can this boy take?' David wondered; `How much can I take?' Still he slid his cock slowly up and down inside the hot velvet of the boy and still the boy breathed with soft pleasure until David felt his sperm boiling, rising to the point where he could no longer control it and his cock jerked, throbbing inside the boy, and the boy's cock throbbed between their stomachs until both burst together, David flooding the boy's bowels and the boy adding yet more of his offering to the sticky mess between them. This time the boy did soften and his wide parted legs began to close. David allowed his own limpness to slip from the boy and he rolled off and to the side, one hand resting on the boy's shoulder. For the first time, the boy moved, turning a little to his side, facing David, one hand moving to rest on the man's hip. The boy's eyes fluttered, opened slightly, only the whites showing. He blinked rapidly, trying to focus, coming out from whatever trance he had been in and David waited for his reaction, his understanding of what had happened, and his reaction to that understanding, the awareness that he was naked and cuddled up to a naked man and the undeniable evidence that they had coupled. Whatever reaction David had been expecting, it was certainly not the slow smile that lit the boy's face. No anger, no fear, no embarrassment, no regret, no recriminations; just a slow smile that was in the eyes as well as on the lips. The hand on David's hip moved round to his back, exerted gentle pressure, easing the man in closer to the boy, and the boy offered his softly smiling lips to the man and the kiss that followed was as slow, lingering and long as the fuck that had preceded it. "I'm yours now," Matt said softly when the ages long kiss ended, "Yours until my sixteenth birthday." "I hope that's not tomorrow," David was unable to resist a moment of lightness. "No, you daft sod," Matt giggled, "You got the best part of six months." "Thank goodness for that!" "I better go and clean up," the boy eased himself to his knees, "Be back in a few mins; then you can open the coolbox." He flashed David a wide smile, all full, red lips and white teeth. David expected the boy to reach for his neatly folded clothes, but Matt just stood and walked, naked, out from the tree circle and up the path to the cottage. He returned a few minutes later, just as naked, but obviously freshly showered, wandered inside the circle and carefully placed himself on the ground, exactly where he had been before. David's eyes never left the boy's nakedness, wondering how a boy who had been so sexually shy, so completely innocent, could be now so calm and comfortable with his recently fucked exposed flesh. "Seen something you like?" the boy grinned cheekily, fully aware that every inch of his body was the subject of intense scrutiny, although a particular few inches were scrutinised more than the rest. "Yes," David confessed softly, his mind trying to get to grips with the unreality of the situation: how could a boy who had, until so very recently, shown absolutely no interest in sex, sex of any kind, type or description, have transformed into this.....this....this freshly fucked, spunked four times, loving being naked and gazed at, creature who was lying beside him, seemingly without a care in the world? "Ciggy's in your shorts?" the teenage perfection asked, reaching across to David's discarded clothing and searching for them. "Yeh," David muttered, and forced himself to move, reach for the coolbox and extract two cans. "Cool," the boy smiled, helped himself to a cigarette, lit it and lobbed the packet and lighter so it landed beside the man whose cock had been inside him less than fifteen minutes before. He took the offered can, opened it and took a deep swig, wiped his mouth with the back of a perfect hand, and smiled. "That's better," he said. "You...are....just......beautiful," David breathed, his eyes still glued to the boy's flesh. "Thanks," Matt grinned, not the least disturbed by the compliment. "So are they," he added, nodding towards the two statues. David tore his eyes away from the boy and looked in the direction of Matt's nod. "I like them," he agreed; "Michelangelo's `David' and Antinous. "Who were they?" "Michelangelo was a fifteenth century Italian artist, you know, the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in Rome." "Heard of that," Matt admitted, "Who was David?" "David and Goliath?" David made it a question rather than a statement. "Oh, yeh," that had meaning for Matt. "What about the other one?" "Antinous, boyfriend of Hadrian, the guy who built the wall up north." "Heard of him, but they never said he had a boyfriend in History." "I don't suppose Miss Chambers would consider that to be relevant information," David grinned and the boy sniggered. "Notice anything odd about either of them?" David asked on impulse. Matt scrutinised the two statues; "Nothin' odd," he said thoughtfully, "Though that one," he extended a finger towards the `David', "Was certainly no stranger to cock; he musta been fucked loads of times." Even to hear words like `cock' and `fuck' coming from Matt's mouth was a shock, they just were not part of the boy's normal vocabulary, but his calm statement that the boy who had modelled for Michelangelo had `been fucked loads of times' left David's mouth hanging wordlessly open. "You can see it in his face," Matt went on, "He knew exactly what was going to happen as soon as his modelling session ended." That Michelangelo would have bent the boy model over and slipped him a length of Renaissance cock was, if not a matter of historical record, an almost complete certainty, was not information Matt would have known, and certainly not something his hitherto pure mind would have even considered. "Look at his cock," David suggested, and when Matt still failed to see anything odd, David pointed out that the boy had a foreskin and that the biblical original would not have done. Matt's puzzled look struck David as strange for a moment before he realised the boy had probably never set his eyes on a circumcised prick, even in the showers at school, Matt's eyes would not have focussed on any boy's genitals, and now he was struggling to visualise a cock without its foreskin. "Ugh," he grunted, "Don't think that'd look very nice." "What about cock with foreskin," David pushed, "Does that look nice?" "Does now," Matt grinned, then confessed his startling change in attitude to matters genital, "Never thought about it before." "I have, lots," David made a confession of his own, "I like cock to be natural and complete." "Good job mine is, then," Matt accepted, "Otherwise none of this would have worked." "Anyone who tried to take a scalpel to that beautiful thing would deserve to have their own balls chopped off!" David said fervently, before the import of Matt's words reached his brain. "What wouldn't have worked?" he asked slowly and carefully, looking at the boy's eyes now rather than his cock. Matt blushed and tried to hide his confusion, looking at the ground and shrugging his shoulders as teenagers do when they want to avoid answering a question. "Just.....this," he muttered at last. Whatever `this' was, the one thing David did know was that it was not some elaborate plot the boy had hatched in order to get himself laid; `this' might have resulted in the very complete loss of the boy's innocence and virginity, but that had definitely not been as a result of a cunning plot he had constructed. Understanding that he wasn't going to get away with saying nothing, Matt shuffled uncomfortably; "I thought you knew," he semi croaked at last. "Knew what, Matt?" David stared intently at the almost squirming boy. "What should I have known?" He didn't get an answer, never really expected an answer, but he did need to find out what the boy meant, what it was that he seemed expected to know, to understand. It had something to do with this place, he realised, this circle of trees. He'd brought Matt here, not in the hope of having sex with him, but to see how he reacted when faced with the tree circle; and he'd got a reaction far beyond anything he could have dreamed of; and that, he began to understand, had something to do with `this'. "I know there's something unusual about this place, Matt," he said, trying to help the boy out. Matt flashed him a quick look, and then returned his gaze to the ground. "Look," David said, summoned up the courage, but still added a rider; "What I'm going to say must stay strictly between us," he looked at the boy, and then grinned a touch self consciously; "Though, in the light of recent and incredibly enjoyable events, I know there's no way you're gonna tell anyone what I'm about to say." Matt kept looking at the ground, but did blush a very bright red at the reference to the sex. "When I bought this place seven years ago, I wandered down here in the middle of January. It was pretty much as it is now, except," David paused and thought for a second, "Except, perhaps, the grass was a bit longer and not quite as lush as it is now. And, of course, the statues weren't there; I added them a couple of weeks ago. Anyway, it didn't seem cold in here, not like it was outside, and for some reason," he hesitated again, knowing he could never have said this to the boy he'd collected this morning, "For some reason," he repeated, "I just had to have a wank." He expected some snort of derision from the boy, but, instead, Matt flashed him another look, this time with, perhaps, just a hint of interest in it. Encouraged, David went on; "I've had fuck knows how many wanks in here since, even brought boys here for sex." He stopped, realising he had probably just given the boy the completely wrong impression of why he'd been asked to work in the woods. "I didn't bring you here for that," he rushed on, "That's not the reason I asked you to come and do some work today." "I know," Matt said, surprisingly calmly, "It wouldn't have happened if you had." "They were boys I'd already had, done stuff with before," David tried to explain, again realising after the words were out of his mouth that telling a boy who's just yielded up his virginity that you fucked boys on a regular basis, was not normally the best way to go about ensuring that you got to have him again. "Yes," Matt nodded, as though David's blundering attempts to explain himself made perfect sense. "Then there was Roy and Brian," David felt compelled to continue. "Promise you won't be annoyed or upset or anything," David almost pleaded. "Course not," Matt was completely matter of fact, "Tell me." "I'd been trying to work out how I might get Roy," David took a quick look at Matt, hoping he was not getting upset by this revelation of sexual predation, "And then I found him in here and about half an hour later we were going at it like crazy." Matt actually smiled! "He wanted me to fuck him," David admitted, "But then he changed his mind, wanted to save it for the next time." Matt nodded, "Had he had stuff before?" he asked. David shook his head, "No, but he was really gagging for it; believe it or not, it was him who started it off." "That explains it," Matt said enigmatically, and David didn't even bother thinking about what explained what. "He did say this is a place for cock, though, that's what gave me the idea of the statues," David grinned sheepishly. "And Brian?" Matt asked. "Brian Jackson, you probably know him," David said; "I fancied him, well obviously, and I brought him here wondering if it might have the same effect on him as it did on Roy. It didn't though; he got just to the entrance and then said it was far too fucking cold in here, and walked off." "So why me?" Matt asked, "Did you fancy me as well?" This, for David, was the really hard bit; should he tell the boy the truth, or try to cover it, make it sound nicer? He decided on the truth. "I thought you were really good to look at, and that you have the most fabulous legs; I've dribbled over your legs whenever I've seen you doing games and stuff," David confessed. A couple of hours before, Matt wouldn't have even understood that comment, now he blushed, still innocent enough to be flattered. "But no, I didn't fancy you...................now I really am going to probably offend you," David said, hoping he wouldn't; "Gorgeous as you are..... you are, were," he corrected, "The most unsexy boy I have ever come across. I would have fancied you something rotten if I'd ever discovered one, single sexual vibe coming from you, but I never did. I couldn't even imagine you having a wank!" "Don't, not very often, and even then it's only because I have to." Matt didn't seem the slightest bit embarrassed as he admitted this most unboyish of facts. "So why did you ask me to come here?" "Because you were so unsexy," David explained. "It was a sort of experiment, in a way. Roy was gagging for sex and couldn't get his kit off fast enough once he was in here. Brian couldn't get away quick enough, and I wondered if it was because he had some sort of feeling about this place and cock, and he wasn't into cock. I wanted to see how you reacted; I expected you to just find this tree circle perfectly normal, nothing at all strange or weird about it." Matt snorted, derisively; "Like a place of the old ones is going to feel normal." "The old ones?" "You feel them, don't you?" Matt asked, "Feel something very different about here?" "Yes, but I thought that was just oversexed me, imagining stuff." "I knew they were here as soon as we got near the cottage this morning," Matt said, feeling it was his turn to explain. David recalled that sudden, sharp intake of breath when they had arrived. "They kept calling to me all morning, and then, this afternoon, when I got to the entrance, they spoke to me." He looked at the man, wondering what his reaction was going to be. "You'll probably want to get the men in white coats if I tell you everything," Matt said, only half joking. "No men in white coats," David promised, not joking at all. Slowly Matt told of what had happened, of how, being of Cornish descent, he'd been familiar with the old ones since a young age and of how he had recognised their presence here and that they had recognised him. He told of how his granny's comments about the past finding him had suddenly made sense and about how he knew he had to make a choice that would decide, not just his future, but the future of the old ones as well. He told of how he'd been made aware of the sacrifice these particular old ones needed, of how David's sexual activities in the circle had awoken them and how they needed the sacrifice so they could be amongst the world again. "You're their priest, you know," he told David, "You were the one to perform the sacrifice." "You worship cock," Matt said, blushing as he said it. "So do they. Roy was right; this is a place of cock. There'll be another place, not far away, a cave of some sort, that's a place for the other thing," even now, Matt was unable to bring himself to utter a word like `cunt'; "And somewhere else, somewhere in the open, where men and women celebrated fertility stuff." "Why should I be their priest?" David didn't scoff, didn't reject the boy's comments as the nonsense they obviously were, nonsense to the world of the twenty first century, but not nonsense to a boy of Cornish descent and a man who was almost pure Celt. "You made offerings in here," Matt said, "Offerings that hadn't been made here for centuries." David didn't need the nature of the offerings explained. "Locals call this place the witches coven," David said, "I guess ages ago they knew there was something strange about it." "Nothing to do with witches," Matt grinned. "So what happened when you talked with them?" "They told me what they needed, what sacrifice I would have to make." Slowly Matt tried to explain his initial shock and almost horror at what he'd have to do and how it had been made clear to him that he could choose, he could refuse and walk away and the only harm that would come to him was that he'd never see, hear or feel old ones again, that he'd become like his mother, Cornish no longer. "I couldn't do that," Matt explained. "So that's why................" David didn't finish the sentence, there wasn't any need to. "That and some other things," Matt agreed. "I couldn't believe my eyes when I walked in here with the coolbox and saw you there, well.....you know." "I know," Matt grinned, "I was watching you." "Don't be daft; you had your eyes shut all the time, almost like you were in a trance." "I was, in a way; I was with the old ones as well, we were all watching." Matt saw the puzzled disbelief in the man's eyes; "That was one of the things they offered me," he said, "To give me more of the sight." "So you saw it all?" David squeaked, "Saw yourself getting........" "Fucked," Matt finished for him. "Yeh, it was beautiful. It was pretty amazing feeling it as well," he added with a huge smile. "They said I'd enjoy it, and they were bang on about that! So," he gave another huge grin, "All yours for the next hundred and seventy two days." David reached out a hand for the softness between the boy's legs; "Shame about the time limit," he said softly. "Better make the most of it, then," Matt chortled, and lay back, waiting for things to happen. David fondled the beautiful softness of the boy and then gave in to his favourite temptation, taking a boy into his mouth while he was still soft. Matt sighed, a long, contented sigh; it was, after all, the first time his cock had been given any sort of a treat, and being brought from soft to hard inside a mouth is a treat all boys should be given from time to time. David was surprised at the speed with which the boy stiffened, he'd expected a slower reaction from a boy who'd spunked four times in the last hour or so, but Matt's glorious, milk white cock had no hesitation in rising again. He treated it with all the love and care the perfect tube demanded, softly swirling his tongue round it, lip nibbling the foreskin tip, easing back that skin to stroke the slit with the tip of his tongue, and then swallowing it whole so his nose was buried in that perfect pubic triangle. He gave the boy's hairless balls a tongue bath and took them, one at a time, in his mouth, teasing and stimulating them so the boy gasped, moaned and wriggled with pleasure. He let his tongue savour the crack between thigh and torso and bring more moans from him when his tongue stroked up and down his perineum. And all the time his mouth was busy, his hands fondled the incredible smoothness of perfect thighs, the full mounds of broad, developed shoulders and the hard nubs of erect nipples. "Wonderful," the boy breathed, "Make it last forever," and he pushed his cock deeper into David's mouth, ensuring it would not last forever, but end soon with his fifth cumming of the afternoon, spunking this time into David's adoring mouth. "I'll do it for you tomorrow," he promised when it was over. "Tomorrow?" David hadn't expected to have the boy again so soon. "Course," Matt grinned, "And every other one of those hundred and seventy one days." Incredibly, Matt was as good as his word. Every school day he went to David's office before school began, at morning break and at lunchtime, fed David his wonderful, milk white inches and the cream that came from them, and, after school, welcomed David into his bed so the man's cock could snuggle into hot, wet, still tight, velvet, boy sheath. Weekends and school holiday times were spent mostly in David's bed, the winter months being too chilly to cavort naked in the tree circle, though they went there at least once a week for David to milk him by hand, his cream spurting out onto the short grass. And, equally incredibly, no-one seemed to notice! Normally, this amount of contact between man and boy would have excited suspicion, rumour, gossip, and, eventually, accusation, but none of that happened. Matt's parents were happy that their son spent his weekends apparently working for his teacher, even, on occasions, staying overnight there; and his school mates, male and female, always on the lookout for slander to spread, did not find his association with David even worthy of comment. The idea that the boy, known universally as `Monk' because of his utter lack of interest in matters sexual, was being sucked and fucked on a daily basis was too ridiculous to even contemplate. The only cloud on David's horizon was that every cock worshiping, sexually gratifying day that passed, brought Matt's sixteenth birthday inevitably closer. Matt spent the last day of his fifteenth year in David's bed. Well, not quite all of it, he didn't get into it until almost ten in the morning, and he left it for the last time at nine in the evening, and he did have a couple of breaks for food. He lost count of the number of times he was sucked and fucked, and he clambered, exhausted, from the bed for the final time when his sore cock could no longer respond and David was equally incapable of anything more than stroking and kissing him. "This really the last time?" David asked as they sat, naked still, in front of the huge log fire burning in his lounge. He knew it was, but he still hoped; Matt's body was just too wonderful to forget. "Has to be," Matt stared into the fire, "Its part of my sacrifice." David no longer argued about that, no longer questioned Matt about what he meant, he accepted it as something real. None of the things that had happened since the moment he had stepped into the hazel circle and seen the boy naked and sun-aroused, had any logical explanation, and he'd long since given up searching for one. "It's not all bad though," Matt said to the fire, softly and slowly; "The old ones give gifts to those who know and follow them." "Certainly gave me a gift," David whispered, gazing his final fill on Matt's naked flesh. "And me," Matt took his eyes from the fire long enough to smile at the man who had shown him how cock should be worshipped; "But I'm sixteen tomorrow, I become legal," he hesitated, searching for the right words, "By the sex laws now, I become a man, not a boy anymore, and what we did for the old ones was a man boy thing." "Whatever you say," David accepted, knowing, that as far as he was concerned, Matt tomorrow would still be a very desirable boy! "So if I'm going to help the old ones, keep them alive now that you've woken them and my sacrifice gave them power again, I'm going to have to find a boy." There was a moment of silence while David digested Matt's words, allowed himself to believe he had actually heard what he thought he'd heard, before he managed to croak, "Find a boy? Did I hear you right? You are going to.......................?" "Find a boy to fuck and suck, just like you sucked and fucked me," Matt said to the fire, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Can't serve the old ones with me cock only used for pissing, can I!" David gave a passable imitation of a goldfish. "Nor can you," Matt went on, "You'll need a boy to replace me," he looked up and grinned, "Probably more than one, I should think!" "And just where do we find the necessary boys?" David asked, practical as ever when it came to the matter of selecting safe and suitable bed flesh. "School," Matt answered, again as though it was obvious, "Lots there to choose from." "Yeh," David agreed sarcastically, "About six hundred and fifty, of whom at least six hundred would lead directly to jail; and most of them without getting anywhere near to `Go'!" "Don't be silly," Matt giggled, "I'll only pick the ones who want it." "And, believe me, that takes care and time," David said forcefully, "You can't just see one you fancy and bed him." "I can," Matt said, simply, "Same as the old ones in the temple. Remember Roy and Brian?" "You telling me that you'll be able to tell which boys will and which ones won't, just by looking at them?" "Of course," Matt said, "That was one of the gifts they gave me in exchange for my sacrifice; it'll become fully functional tomorrow," he looked, slightly sadly, at David, "As long as we don't............." his voice trailed off. "Oh, wow!" David breathed, and then, with growing understanding, he said, very softly, "So giving up this is part of your sacrifice, isn't it." Matt nodded, his eyes bright with unshed tears; "But that's always the way of it, you find a man who........well.......you know.........and then you're not a boy anymore and it has to end." He stared deep into the fire patterned logs; "I guess it must be the same for a man," he whispered, "Boys grow up." "Yes, they do," David's voice was barely audible as he finally realised that inevitable truth. "Fortunately," Matt's slightly forced attempt at humour broke through the almost sadness, "There's always a good supply of boys!" They stood and embraced for one last time. "Thanks Matt," David whispered, "I can't tell you just how wonderful it's been." "Don't look back," the boy breathed in his ear, "The past will find you when it's time, and then the future will be the present." Out in the woods, in the centre of a small circle of hazel trees, deep beneath the soft grass surface, the slow trickles of earth caused by the spreading of roots, finally caused two crudely carved bits of stone to move so that they were upright, the oversized phallus of the larger one, resting on the equally oversized phallus of the smaller one. joshcock@hotmail.com