Date: Thu, 4 Mar 2010 00:10:02 -0700 From: dnrock@rock.com Subject: Of Man and Boy 7 Of Man and Boy by: dnrock(dnrock&rock.com) 7 Being Domestic For the next couple of days there were intermittent showers. Even the showers are not overly cold. Now in hurricane season, the summer months, things can get quite wild. But this is late fall, coming into early December and the slightly cooler temperatures and intermittent shower season. Everything was properly stowed, Paul had made a first class dinner of pasta and tomato sauce, with hot Italian sausage, salad and vegetable medley, mostly raw. The men settled into getting things organized for the next few days. Grant found his bedroom was an ideal place to study. Paul laid out a long list of things he needed to do, including a few for Grant. He thought long a hard of what Grant's physical and and maturity capabilities were in setting the tasks. They watched a little TV, looked after domestic chores and just sat around. Grant wanted to play Cribbage so Paul sat for a few games. Paul thought it a good idea to read to Grant, he began with R. L. Stevenson's Treasure Island. He thought it appropriate, being set, more or less, in this very location. Ok, the specific island is not identified but close enough. Sure the language was a bit 19th century but that is when it was written. Paul had loved the book as a boy, he loved lots of books as a boy and he wanted to share that love with Grant. Much as his dad and his mentor Dr. Hoffman had shared their beloved books with him. Paul's list was long, he would start with Treasure Island and move on to Twain with Tom Sawyer, Huck Finn and Life on the Mississippi and the Dumas tails for starters. He would include a few of his favorite contemporary young peoples' authors such as, John Wilson. (Lots of Wilsons in the world this one lives on Vancouver Island in British Columbia, Canada and has over twenty titles to his credit.) He also wanted to keep Grant reading on his own and figured the Harry Potter series and any number of titles by the late August Derleth would be appropriate. Following Grant's evening lesson and a short pornographic flick showing two boys exploring each other's bodies, Paul and his boy made love, exploring each other's bodies. Grant was eager to take his second protein supplement of the day and Paul was eager to have his cock sucked, as well as taste the crotch of his boy. Following Grant's third or fourth climax, Paul inserted the same little butt plug. Paul lit one of his oil lamps, placing it by the bed for atmosphere and bid Grant to, "Ayh mate, join me in our berth." Grant giggled at the old fashioned language and climbed in, snuggling up to dad, who was propped up on several pillows with a book. "So you think I am Long John Silver do ye?" Now Grant smiled even wider. He knew L. J. S. was a fictional pirate but little else. Grant snuggled tighter to Paul as his man's hand drifted over his smooth butt. "I am going to start reading books to you at bedtime. The first one is Treasure Island, by Robert Lewis Stevenson, a Scottish author who lived in the late eighteen hundreds." "Sounds good to me. My mom and dad would read to me, I like it. Is the oil lamp for atmosphere?" Paul nodded and squeezed him closer, which was a near impossibility. "What's Treasure Island about?" "Let me see," Paul searched his memory, letting his left hand drift over Grant's naked body, "oh yes. Stevenson's most famous novel and an enduringly popular romance, Treasure Island was published about 1883." Paul checked the copyright dates. "It developed from an imaginary map that Stevenson and his stepson Lloyd Osbourne, I think his name was, had devised on holiday. The famous antihero Long John Silver was the invention of Stevenson's friend, William Henley as I recall. The tale is the archetypal nineteenth century 'ripping yarn'." Paul was recalling material from one of his Arts courses. "What's an anti hero and a ripper yarn," Grant interrupted. Oh, an antihero, is a hero who, is not a hero in the normal sense of the word but someone who finally does the right thing in spite of himself. A ripping yarn is just that, a yarn that is full of adventure." "Ok!" "Our narrator is Jim Hawkins, son of a guesthouse owner on the west coast of England sometime in the eighteenth century. I think he is about 12 when the story begins but we will find out as we read. To the inn comes an old buccaneer who has a map of Captain Flint's treasure, followed by a group of pirates under the command of ominous blind man Pew. Jim Hawkins, our real hero-narrator, in an act of bravery and cunning gets hold of the map before this rabid mob gets it. He delivers the map to Squire Trelawney, and together they set off for Treasure Island in the Squire's schooner. The rest of the crew, apart from Dr Livesey (a friend of the squire) are a company collected by Long John Silver. Silver and his men try to mutiny and get hold of the treasure themselves but Jim intervenes and through a series of enthralling adventures we find ourselves on Treasure Island with the marooned Ben Gunn and ever closer to the treasure itself." "I think it will be a good one, didn't they ever make a movie of it? It sounds like a good plot." "Two as I recall, one I have seen, it was made in the early 1950's and shown on TV. It was real good, as I recall, Long John Silver was played by an actor called Robert Newton. They also had a TV series in the 50's, with Newton in the lead, I am told, but I never saw it. I think the muppets also made a version but I never saw it either." (see:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Treasure_Island, Your author was most surprised to see just how many movies, TV and others things this story has spawned.) "Why don't we just rent the movie?" "We will son but after we read the book. Don't know about rent but we can probably purchase a DVD." Paul began to read, he would stop frequently to explain some of the old terms that Grant didn't know and change his voice for some characters. He liked to imitate Robert Newton as best his memory would allow. "SQUIRE TRELAWNEY, Dr Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure island, from the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I take up my pen in the year of grace 17 - , and go back to the time when my father kept the `Admiral Benbow' inn, and the brown old seaman, with the saber cut, first took up his lodging under our roof. I remember him as if it were yesterday, as he came plodding to the inn door, his sea-chest following behind him in a handbarrow; a tall, strong, heavy, nut-brown man; his tarry pigtail falling over the shoulders of his soiled blue coat; his hands ragged and scarred, with black, broken nails; and the sabre cut across one cheek, a dirty, livid white. * I remember him looking round the cove and whistling to himself as he did so, and then breaking out in that old sea-song that he sang so often afterwards:- `Fifteen men on the dead man's chest- Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!'* Paul spoke the words in a high voice and the chanty rythum. "in the high, old tottering voice that seemed to have been tuned and broken at the capstan bars. Then he rapped on the door with a bit of stick like a handspike that he carried, and when my father appeared, called roughly for a glass of rum. This, when it was brought to him, he drank slowly, like a connoisseur, lingering on the taste, and still looking about him at the cliffs and up at our signboard. `This is a handy cove,' says he, at length; `and a pleasant sittyated grog-shop. Much company, mate?' My father told him no, very little company, the more was the pity.' `Well, then,' said he, `this is the berth for me. Here you matey,' he cried to the man who trundled the barrow; `bring up alongside and help up my chest. I'll stay here a bit,' he continued. `I'm a plain man; rum and bacon and eggs is what I want, and that head up there for to watch ships off. What you mought call me? You mought call me captain. Oh, I see what you're at - there;' and he threw down three or four gold pieces on the threshold. `You can tell me when I've worked through that,' says he, looking as fierce as a commander. And, indeed, bad as his clothes were, and coarsely as he spoke, he had none of the appearance of a man who sailed before the mast; but seemed like a mate or skipper accustomed to be obeyed or to strike. The man who came with the barrow told us the mail had set him down this morning before at the `Royal George;' that he had inquired what inns there were along the coast, and hearing ours well spoken of, I suppose, and described as lonely, had chosen it from the others for his place of residence. And that was all we could learn of our guest.... .....`And now, sir,' continued the doctor, `since I now know there's such a fellow in my district, you may count I'll have an eye upon you day and night. I'm not a doctor only; I'm a magistrate; and if I catch a breath of complaint against you if its only for a piece of incivility like to-night's, I'll take effectual means to have you hunted down and routed out of this. Let that suffice.' Soon after Dr Livesey's horse came to the door, and he rode away; but the captain held his peace that evening, and for many evenings to come." (The preceding quoted text was taken from WWW.Bibilomania.com) Paul read until the first chapter had been completed. By now Grant was snuggled into his chest, his eyes heavy and his breathing beginning to shallow out. Paul turned out the lamp and Grant was fast asleep. Paul's hand drifted to the lad's butt again checking the position of the plug. Grant wiggled his crotch pressing his small hard penis into Paul's side. Paul is not a religious man and he does not give praises to any god. He would gladly thank Poseidon if he were ever to meet him. He will worship that old Greek God never the less, not by going to his temple or in some overt way paying homage but by doing honor to this boy, this gift from the sea, his son. He worships Apollo too but not at his temple either, but in his practice of medicine and in his worship of this lad's sexuality. He never dreamed he was lonely but now he knows just how lonely he had been. Now he understands more of the true meaning of the man to boy bond, being forged. ......................... "Daddy, daddy come quick, gramps wants to talk to you." When your father or mother summons, a dutiful son answers that call. Paul is a dutiful son. His sense of duty stems not from training or teaching, not from guilt or obligation but from love and respect. "Hi dad ... but dad ... I know that ... soft no way...I am not a wimp" While this rather one sided conversation was going on Grant stood next to his dad, silently cheering for gramps to win out. Grant had never seen snow and had never had Christmas on a ranch covered in white. Paul absent mindedly placing his free hand on Grant's butt. Grant gently directed that hand to his crotch and began slowly petting his man along his inner thigh, eventually pressing his body between Paul's legs and tenderly giving his man as much oral pleasure his small mouth was capable of. "Ok, dad we will leave here on the 20th, I will stop in Chicago for a couple of days to see some patients. We should be in Billings no later than the 23rd. You must promise to come back with us for a few weeks. It's only fair, perhaps we can get Gerald Hoffman to come too... No, I haven't ask him... You haven't seen him recently? Look I'll call him right away. Lets just plan on it. I love you old man. I'm sure he will, in fact he already thinks he does but then you spoil him." Grant recognized dad was talking about him and he stopped pulling the fat cock from his lips. Paul gently touched the back of his head guiding the boy's mouth to it appointed task. "... don't say, you spoiled me when I was a boy so it is no shame in spoiling your grandson. I for one expected nothing less. Can you tell me why it is so important to tell Gerald about Grant? Ok but I am going to hold you to that. Love you dad." It only took Grant a few seconds to bring Paul off, delivering a large load of ejaculate to him. "You and dad are planning something aren't you?" Grant looked a little sheepish, Paul knew. "Ah, well, yes, but he told me not to say anything, its a secret, don't make me tell, please." "Son I wouldn't do that. A secret is as secret and you got to hold it unless some harm would result from keeping quiet. Remember we medical men are bound to keep our patient's confidences." "Gramps said you would say something like that and you did, wow he must really know you." "That is for sure, he raised me, there is no one alive that knows me better than my dad. That's what dad's do, they get to know their sons. Anyway we teach the way we were taught, he taught me how important it is to keep secrets. Just like I am teaching you." Grant was now sitting on Paul's legs, his own little legs draped over dad's facing him. Grant's little penis, stiff and erect pressing into Paul's groin, his fact looking up at dad's." Paul kissed him several times on the nose and lips. "So tell me how's your pony?" "Gramps said he is getting bigger and friskier every day." "That's great, now you go and do your lessons while I get some business taken care of, them we will have lunch how does that sound?" "Sounds good to me, especially the lunch part. Oh, by the way, grandpa wants you to e-mail more pictures of me and you too." Grant went off to do his lessons. Grade four level math, geography, and general science. Paul called Sid they talked a while about time off. Paul figured they needed to add another partner to the practice. Sid agreed and suggested Paul conduct some interviews while in Chicago. Paul than called Gerald Hoffman. While talking to Sid he got one of those inspirations; you know the kind like a flash of lightning in your creative mind. Gerald or Dr. Hoffman was his boyhood medical mentor. He has since retired but while Paul was growing up he assisted Gerald like Grant is assisting him. Ruth his wife was like a grandmother to him, come to think of it Jerry was like a grandfather to him too. Anyway Ruth passed away a few years ago and Jerry retired soon after. Paul missed his mentor and he missed his dad. He just had to get them both down for a long visit. Now that Grant was part of his life, the incentive, he figured was even greater. Paul needed Jerry to do him one big favor, he was intending to hold off asking until he could do it in person. He needed him to file a birth certificate for Grant with the county. He figured Jerry could just claim the paper was misplaced and he just found it while cleaning up his old files. He would explain everything to him except his sexual attraction to the boy. Paul had worked out all the details. Grant's mother's maiden name was Jane Smith. He knew a Jane Smith at university. He had no idea what became of her but since the two women had the same name the details in Jerry's records would be sketchy enough anyway. Mother, Jane Smith student at University of Montana, Missoula. Since there are several pseudo Mormon cults operating in Montana that refuse to register for things like social security or the public school system, it was all very plausible. Dad would sign as a witness, he could be listed as assisting, since he was in premed at the time and Jerry's long time assistant. Oh yes, he thought this will work. He called Jerry and e-mailed the details to dad, since Jerry did not have a computer. Another thing to cross off his list. Jerry was looking forward to meeting Grant and yes he would come to the islands for a few weeks in January. At his age any break from the Montana winter was welcome. ................... Paul called an old friend and boy lover who lived in San Juan. He invited his friend to visit ASAP, he and Grant would pick him up the day after tomorrow. "Hay kid how would you like to scuba diving lessons?" "Of course, are you taking them too?" "No, I already have my diving certificate but I am not qualified as an instructor. We will go to San Juan, the day after tomorrow, and pick up my friend." Paul's friend is a retired navy SEAL and certified divining instructor. He runs a dive shop in San Juan where Paul gets his equipment. there is no shortage in Charlotte Amalie but this man is special, he is Paul's friend and will assist him and Grant with some marginally legal activities,that Paul has in mind. Grant giggled with the anticipation of a new adventure. Paul started Grant on his physiological enhancement program. Based on Grant's blood work Paul devised a plan. He had the pharmacy mix up a supply of skin penetrating ointment what contained a carefully controlled amount of Human Growth Factor, Testosterone, DHEA and others. His objective is stimulate the boy's penile growth without overly stimulating other things. No point in causing puberty any sooner than normal. Paul had developed a therapy for some of his patients that involved small increases of these factors but keeping the overall body load within natural and normal limits. He combined this with electro-stimulation to induce some modest enhancement to normal growth. For Grant he would apply an elastic O ring to the base of the penis like a cock ring to temporally restrict blood flow out. The cream to the surface to increase the hormones locally and a three part electrode system for stimulation which has a short thin rod fitted into the urethra, a little flexible cap with numerous small contacts that fits over the head and shaft that keep the foreskin retracted. In addition, he will place a small butt plug into the anus that has a short bent shaft and a small bulb that presses against the prostrate. When the current, at just the right frequency, is passed through the penis it stimulates the cells in the presence of the right hormonal concentrations to grow. The butt plug is a kind of receiver that vibrates as the current flows through the body producing a very pleasant and stimulating sensation. He will do this several times a day for about 15 minutes each time when at the Poseidondoro. He would not promise Grant how much extra or how quickly his penis would grow but it would be much fun and pleasurable, if nothing else.