Date: Tue, 03 Apr 2001 15:40:19
From: Ganymede
Subject: Pandora's Box VIII

Pandora's Box VII,   by Ganymede and Christopher.


WARNING:

This story contains a graphic description of sexual acts
between a man and a MINOR boy. We do not condone child abuse,  how-
ever boy-love as described in this story is an entirely  different
matter. If the subject of man/boy sex offends you, if this material
is illegal in your place of residence, or if you are under the
legal age for such material, do not read further! You have been
warned! Read at your own risk!

The story is copyrighted under the pseudonym, Ganymede. A copy
has been placed in the Nifty archives for your enjoyment. Feel free
to post it to appropriate newsgroups or send it to your friends. The
story cannot be used to derive monetary gain. It cannot be placed in
archives that require payment for access, or printed and distributed
in any form that requires payment.

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FINAL WARNING:

If you are under the age of 18, if this material is illegal in
your place of residence, or if man-boy relationships aren't your
thing, then exit now and save yourself from a life of sin!


Pandora's Box VIII: Saturday Midnight


The questions that followed were not about sex. Steven asked about
my life in Cambridge. Then he asked about my career plans. Like an
eleven-year-old boy has career plans! He changed direction and
talked about how I became interested in art. What I thought about
being a Catholic and was it important to me? What things bothered
me? I didn't tell him about how men looked at me. Maybe I should
have. He asked me what would be my favorite thing to do if I could
chose anything at all. I wasn't sure about that one at all. I had
done so little. With a big grin he told me that problem could easily
be taken care of. The last question was where would I like to go if
I could go anywhere in the whole world. I answered, Cannes. Where
the film festival was.

I yawned sleepily and did my best to cover my mouth. It would
not be cool to fall asleep talking to Steven Kaufman.

"You're getting tired, aren't you Chris? I'm not surprised.
It's nearly midnight."

I nodded and blinked to keep my eyes open. Steven leaned for-
ward and placed his hand on my knee. It was the first time that he
had touched me in three hours. Had we really talked that long? I
yawned again, and tried hard to keep my head steady. The slightest
loss on concentration and it would droop forward. His hand stayed
there, completely covering my knee and a third of my thigh. I shook
my head and tried to stay awake.

"Okay, it's bedtime for you. Your mother will probably be mad
at me for keeping you up this long."

"'s okay," I grumbled.

I felt his hand take mine, pulling me upward. I wanted to stay
there with him. Not keep talking. Just to be with him. I realized he
was tugging me forward and I stumbled after him. The door slid open
and we were outside. The lights went off in the pool house. His arm
went around my shoulder, leading me back to the house. Halfway along
the length of the pool, we stopped. I rocked on the balls of my
feet, leaning into Steven. He held my arms, pulled me closer into
his warmth. For a moment I thought he was going to kiss me. I licked
my lips hopefully.

"Have you ever been skinny dipping at night, Chris?" he asked in
a soft reassuring voice.

"Huh? Yeah, in Boston we do it all the time. Are you crazy?" I
slurred.

"Would you like to? Here, with me? Tonight?"

"Uh huh. What if someone sees us?" I whispered.

"Everyone's asleep, and you should be, but right now you're here
with me. Come on. let's get naked. It'll be fun."

I stepped back and fumbled with the two buttons of my shirt. It
took forever to get them undone. By the time I had my shirt off
Steven was starting on his trousers. He already had his shirt off. I
watched him silently. He was covered in hair, just like a bear at
the zoo. Well, no man is that hairy, but in the darkness he looked
like a big black bear. He was a lot darker than I was. I was his lit-
tle brown bear, a bear without any hair except on my head. I giggled
softly and he straightened up.

"What's up? Are you embarrassed?"

I shook my head, not at all sure that I was actually going to say
what I thought I would say. "I need help with my pants."

Steven smiled. I think he knew what I was trying to do. What
was I trying to do? I wanted him to take my pants off. That's what I
wanted. That's all I wanted. Why did I want him to do that of all
things? He stepped closer and I lifted my arms up out of the way. I
probably looked silly. I did not need to have my arms above my head
for him to unfasten the button and zipper on my pants. However, I
looked better that way. My chest stretched, my ribs became promi-
nent, my muscles firmed up. My belly pulled in. This was the way
boys were sexiest. What was I thinking? I had posed in front of the
mirror at home to know the effect. I was brown and beautiful and
irresistible, to some men if not all men. How did I know that?
Why was I even thinking like this?

I gazed up him, silently imploring him to accept my offering. I
was offering myself. Couldn't he see that? I felt his hands at my
waist, his fingers brushing the smooth skin of my belly. I felt my
penis hardening rapidly. I breathed in and out slowly, trying to
meet his eyes. He kept looking away. I heard the sound of my zipper
being opened. I wanted him to take them down, to discover what lay
behind the leather and the micro-brief. I used all of my willpower.
He stepped back again.

"There. You should be able to do the rest by yourself, Chris."

I wanted to cry. I pressed my lips together. He was looking
away. For some reason he didn't want to look at me. Why? So many men
looked at me. Why not him? I tried not to be angry. I waited a few
seconds, still hopeful. He turned side on, balancing against a
lounge chair, my lounge chair. I could not see what I wanted to see.
I wanted to see his penis when his briefs came down. He looked over
his shoulder, saw me watching him. He turned away again, further so
I could only see his butt. He pushed his briefs down quickly,
stepped out of them, left them lying on the pavement. He took two
steps. I barely glimpsed his penis. Big. Thick. Swinging from side
to side. There was no skin on the end. Then he dove into the dark
water and swam away from me.

"Hurry up," he laughed from the middle of the pool.

"I'm sleepy," I growled menacingly.

"Well, the water will wake you up if you get in, Chris."

I shoved at my pants, pushing relentlessly at the leather in
frustration. They were easy to put on, but I was so tired that I
could barely think straight. By the time I got them to my knees I
realized that my shoes and socks were still on and I was still hold-
ing the silk shirt in my hand. I flopped down on the lounge, draped
the shirt over the rail, and proceeded with some difficulty to
remove my shoes and socks. I managed to get my pants past my feet. I
stood up again. I was stilling wearing my briefs, but I was resolved.
If Steve wasn't going to let me see him, then I wasn't going to let him
see me. I walked slowly to the edge of the pool and stood there,
hoping that Steven could see that I was still covered. I wanted him
to know I wasn't naked like he was.

And then I dove, a shallow dive like I had learned during the
previous summer when I had thought about joining the YMCA swim team.
We could not afford the fees. I surfaced, a little more awake that
before. I saw Steven and languidly swam towards him. He was stand-
ing. The middle of the pool was five feet deep. It was out of my
depth, so I would have to tread water. I did, slowly circling him as
he watched.

"You're still wearing your undies, aren't you?" he teased.

"Maybe," I replied. I was quickly waking up now in the luke
warm water. It was relaxing and refreshing at the same time, a bit
like taking a bath, only not as hot.

"We're supposed to be skinny dipping."

"Maybe," I said.

"Do I have to take them off you?" Steven said pointedly. His
tone had changed.

"You and whose army." I splashed water towards his face.

"Okay. Have it your way."

When he lunged, I tried to spring back, which is next to impos-
sible in the water. His hand caught my arm and he spun me around. I
struggled, flailing out, realizing that not even a green-belt in
Taekwondo was much use against a man who was trying to take your
underpants off and you were in five feet of water. There was only a
second before I felt his hand tugging at my back, pulling downward.
I wanted it to be a joke. I hoped he would not stop. He kept tugging
and tugging. My briefs were past my buttocks, half way down my
thighs. He wasn't going to stop. I wanted to tell him to keep going,
that I didn't mind. He reached my knees. I struggled, not to stop
him, but to get out of them. Past my feet. I was naked. Wonderfully,
gloriously, shamelessly naked. Laughing, his arm reached back and my
briefs went sailing through the air to land on the pavement with a
wet thud. I would never be able to find them in the dark.

"Hey," I squealed.

"What's your problem, little boy," Steven said gruffly. "Did
you lose your undies?"

"Yes!" I said hotly. I glared at him, realizing that this was a
game. It was a game that I very much wanted to play.

He licked his lips. "It's dangerous for boys to go swimming
with strangers."

I started to move away. I took a deep breath, preparing to dive
if he tried to grab me again. In the darkness it would be impossible
to find me once I was under the water. All I had to do was change
direction. I was excited. I could feel my heart pounding in my
chest.

"Why?" I asked with as much innocence as I could muster.

He raised an eyebrow. "Things might happen to them in the
water," he leered.

"What kind of things?" I backed away slightly. I was going to
make it very hard for him to catch me.

"Bad things."

"Like what?" I asked boldly. Bad things sounded exciting. My
heart surged, beating faster and stronger.

Steven leered again. "Come here and find out."

I swallowed. I was so excited I could barely stand it. I
brushed my hand between my legs. My body was responding. I shivered,
not from being cold. I splashed some more water at him. He smirked
back, brushing the water from his face. I moved in closer, but still
beyond the reach of his arm. I wanted him to catch me. I wondered
what he would do when he caught me. Again I felt there, just to make
sure. My penis was getting harder. Still closer. His eyes followed
mine now. I was courting him, challenging him to take me. I smiled
teasingly and he grinned back at me. He grabbed at me without any
warning.

One hand around my upper arm, the other on my wrist, dragging
me onto him. Then one hand sliding down my smooth belly, finding my
sex, finding it standing straight out and ready for him. He grasped
it, squeezing his fingers into me, compressing my testicles until I
was ready to shriek, yanking on my tiny aroused male-part until I
was ecstatic. He released me, both hands off me, letting me go. I
kicked at him, pushing with both feet as hard as I could, seeking
freedom in the dark water. It stung down there. My penis throbbed
mercilessly, not finding solace in the lukewarm water but demanding
insistently that I swim back to him and let him do it again.

"What's the matter, Chris?" Steven called out into the darkness.
His voice sounded harsh. "Aren't you ready to play with a man yet?"

"You hurt me," I rebuked. "You squeezed too hard."

Steven chuckled. "And you liked it too, you little fairy."

I paddled away, trying to orient myself in the darkness. Why
did he call me a fairy? I wanted to go back to him. It didn't hurt so
badly that I would stop him from doing it again. I wanted to play
his game. My mind churned. I hurt, not down there, but inside. I was
angry with myself. I was angry with Steven for not chasing after me.
Why did we have to play the game by his rules? I trembled as I
reached shallow water and waded towards the stairs that I knew had
to be there somewhere.

I clambered out of the water and stood still, with my arms
around my chest, shivering. I don't know how long I stood there by
the side of the pool. He placed a towel around my shoulders, then
his big strong arms closed around my body, holding me close. I
pushed against him, no longer hard, just hungry to be touched by
him. He rubbed my back, not gently like my mother did, but with a
powerful motion so that I was forced against him.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you, Chris."

"It's okay," I whispered back. "What's happening to me,
Steven?" I asked in confusion.

"What do you want to happen to you?"

I hugged him with my arms locked around his thick bear neck. We
stayed like that in silence until I realized he was guiding me for-
ward again. We walked uncertainly until we reached the darkened
house. Inside, we walked through where we had been earlier, where
people had stared at me. I still did not understand why they stared
at me. Steven escorted me all the way to my bedroom door. He lifted
his arm from my shoulders, opened the door for me, leaned close to
me and whispered in a very soft voice.

"Do you remember what I said to you last night?" he asked. I
nodded slightly. "It's true. You are a very beautiful boy."

Suddenly, I raised my hand to my mouth and let out a horrified
gasp.

"What's wrong?" Steven asked concernedly.

"My clothes. I left them outside by the pool."

"Don't worry about them. It's not going to rain. Mrs. Beaton
will get them in the morning." Steven looked serious.

"Did I do something wrong?" I asked nervously.

"Yes and no," Steven said mysteriously. "Black isn't your
color, Chris. From now on I don't want you to wear black."

"What color should I wear?" I asked instantly.

"White. It's the color of virginity. You're still pure and
innocent, despite what you did with Joel," he teased.

"Okay, white it is," I grinned, not quite understanding how
virginity could be involved when I was not a girl. "I think my mom
packed some white clothes for me. Will off-white be okay? I have
some off-white colored slacks," I offered hopefully. "They're not
cream or anything."

"Off-white will do just fine. Just no more black. Not while
you're still a virgin." Steven smiled. "You want to know a
secret, Christoper?"

"Uh huh."

"You won't be one for very long. You have a beautiful little
butt that I want to get to know very well. Christopher, my dear,
good night and sleep tight. You have a very big day tomorrow."

With that, he gave my bottom a playful swat and pushed me
through the open door. It closed behind me. The lights were still
on. She was reading, waiting up until I came back.



"Well hello, Chrissie. Looks who's finally back from his first
date," my mother greeted me with a teasing laugh.

"Mom!" I whined. I hated when she made fun of me. It was hardly a
date. I had been talking with Steven, that's all.

I ambled over to her bed, barely aware that I was naked except
for a towel draped over me, not even caring about the expensive
clothes that I had been wearing when I left the room many hours
earlier. I kissed her perfunctorily on the cheek.

"How did it go, Chrissie? Did you have fun?"

"Lots. We talked a lot." I giggled. "We just went skinny dip-
ping a couple of minutes ago. It was awesome, Mom."

I wondered if I should tell her that Uncle Steven had squeezed
my testicles so hard that it hurt. The ache was still there. I
thought she might not understand. I wasn't sure that I understood
why he did that. I was certain of one thing. He hadn't wanted to
hurt me, not badly, just enough to show me how strong he was.
What that what old Mrs. Kaufman or what ever her name was now,
talking about when she told Steven not to hurt me?

"That's good, Sweetie. You'd better get into bed now. It's
late." She put down her book. "Chrissie have you been going regu-
larly."

"Mom?" I groaned. She asked me that question every night, as if
the regular movement of my bowels was a cause for concern for both
of us. "No, not today," I answered harshly.

"I know you went yesterday on the plane, but I really think,..."

"Mom!" I whined. "I'll probably go in the morning, okay?"

"Chrissie, you're leading such an active life here, what with all
the swimming and sun baking, and you're not used to the food. I'd
hate for you to get constipated. You really ought to each some choc-
olate."

`Chocolate' was my mother's way of referring to the laxatives
she bought. They came in tiny foil packets and looked a lot like
chocolate squares, but in reality had nothing to do with Hersheys.
Taken at night, one square was guaranteed to produce a substantial
bowel movement by the next morning.

"Mom, I hate taking that stuff. Do I really need to? I am so
tired." I yawned deliberately so that she got the message.

"Don't be such a sissy. You know you don't mind the taste. And
you get so moody when you're not regular."

Giving up yet again, I sauntered into the bathroom. I chewed up
and swallowed the laxative before I brushed my teeth. Then, my eyes
blinking, I applied a coating of antiseptic to my ear lobe, realiz-
ing that the glistening diamond was still there and it had not been
a dream. I wandered back to my own bed. I got under the covers as my
mother turned out the light.

My hand crept down under the crisp clean sheet, carefully
stroked my penis, decided that it was not up to any exercise, moved
on and inch to two to lethargically fondle the wrinkled lump of my
scrotum. I was warm there, even though that part of me had been
chilled when we walked back from the pool. I explored absently, rec-
ognizing that my tiny eggs were harder to find than usual. Steven
had squeezed them tightly, yet even now I would have given anything
if he was still doing it. I pushed them from the sides, imagining
his strong hand, the masculine power of his fist clenching them
until I squealed and begged for mercy. My testicles tingled as I
touched them. Somehow, I knew that Steven would be able to make them
better. I wished I was in his bedroom, sleeping with him instead of
by myself.

"Mom?" I murmured.

`Yes, Chrissie. What is it?"

"Mom,... When Steven said good night to me, he said something."

"What did he say, Honey?"

"He said I should only wear white from now on, because I was
still a virgin," I answered.

"I think we can handle that. I did bring you a few white
things."

"Off-white is okay too, he said." I yawned and settled into a
more comfortable position. "Mom, he also said I had a beautiful
little butt that he wanted to get to know very well. Why did he say
that, Mom?"

She did not answer for a while. "I guess because it's important
to him, Sweetie."

"Mom?" I asked sleepily. I snuggled into my face into the pil-
low blissfully unaware that my hair would be an utter mess the next
morning.

"Yes Honey?"

"Why is my butt important to him?" I yawned.

"Because it is, Chrissie." Again there was a long silence.
"It's important to homosexuals because that's how they make love,
Sweetie."

"How do they do it?" My eyes were already closed. I yawned
again.

"One man puts his thing inside the other one's bottom," she said
softly.

"Am I a homosexual,... Mom?"

"Yes, Chrissie."

"So that's why,... my butt's,.... important,.... then."

"Yes, Chrissie."

"So he,... puts his thing,.... in my butt?..." I drifted off into a
deep sleep.

"Yes, Chrissie."