PUBERTY BLUES, by Ganymede

     PART 2



WARNING:



This story contains a graphic description of sexual acts between men and 
MINOR boys. I do not condone either incest or child abuse, however 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 single copy 
has been placed in the Nifty archives. Feel free to post it to appropriate 
newsgroups or send it to your friends. If distributing my story for monetary 
gain, please contribute $50 to a charitable organization providing services 
for boys.

The story is fiction. Any resemblance to any individual, alive or 
dead, is unfortunate.

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!





     PUBERTY BLUES, by Ganymede

     PART 2



+++++++++++++++++++ Thailand, May 1994 +++++++++++++++++



As Phan stepped out of the water I tried to find the words that would convey 
my appreciation of his spectacular young body. He was lithe and like a wild 
cat in the jungle, he exuded a raw, primal sexuality. His narrow chest moved 
slightly with each breath, rising and falling rhythmically. His sex organs, 
still hairless and immature, seemed too large for his body. His penis 
stiffened slightly until it lifted away from his groin. It was a long way from 
being completely hard but stiff enough to indicate his sexual arousal. It 
was still cushioned on the hemisphere of his fat, small scrotum. Under the 
thin membrane of his foreskin I could distinguish the rounded head and the 
distinctive flare of his corona before it tapered into the shaft. His thin 
dark fingers continued to stroke, circling and caressing the full length of 
his organ. He smiled shyly. I sensed that he was not embarrassed about being 
naked before me, merely unsure of what was expected of him.

Phan stopped less than a meter away from me. He was so close that I could 
touch him if I reached out. I controlled my initial impulse to grab him, 
take him into the bushes, and rape him, although I suspected that it would 
be more like mutual pleasuring than rape. He studied me circumspectly. His 
dark eyes glistened. With every deep breathe his nostrils seemed to flare 
slightly. Instinctively, I realized that Phan was as excited as I was. Like 
me, his anticipation greatly exceeded the magnitude of what protruded from 
between his thin thighs. Our hearts were pounding as we realized what would 
bring us together. We stood facing each other, each reluctant to take the next 
step that would unite us. But it was inevitable. The union of a man and a 
boy was a timeless love that was socially acceptable in this part of the 
world. We existed only for each other's pleasure, without the demands of 
nature to ensure the survival of the species. 

"I'm Phan... What's your name?" Phan asked hesitantly.

For a boy from the highlands of Thailand, his English was remarkably good. 
It was noticeably better than Udon's. He grinned, visibly pleased with 
himself.

"Hi Phan. I'm Peter," I replied. My eyes held his liquid eyes in a longing 
embrace. 

"Hi Peter! My brothers tell me you come to find me." 

I nodded and smiled at him reassuringly as he smiled back. "I'm very happy 
to meet you."

We stared at each other for many seconds. I wondered what he was thinking. I 
could not take my eyes away from his splendid body. My gaze travelled up and 
down, lingered on his groin, enraptured by the gentle caress of his finger 
tips. They had shifted to stroke the junction of his scrotum and thigh. I 
grinned as my eyes finally lifted up to meet his. He smiled back at me. 
Anything but shameless, his fingers eased onto the base of his penis and began 
to move towards the tip. I watched his penis shrug off what remained of its 
cold stupor and begin to lengthen. It expanded quickly, not an unusual feat 
for a young boy who was intent on pleasuring himself in preparation for sexual 
intercourse.

"You have to undress too," Phan said softly. "Then I can see your cock too," 
he added with a sly smirk. 

His fingers shifted again until they enclosed the thin length of his now 
nearly erect penis. It was almost fully contained within his hand, only the 
head was visible.

His fingers squeezed slightly and the head of his penis swelled under his 
foreskin. He continued to fondle himself as I undressed. His eyes followed 
me attentively. His small sex organs responded to his stimulation and 
reached full throbbing arousal. The time passed in a matter seconds. His 
little penis had lengthened and thickened until it was a hard, pulsing 
projection between his slender thighs. His scrotum tightened protectively 
pulling his immature testicles into a tight knot of wrinkled dark skin. Like 
me, he was prepared and ready for what would naturally follow.

"Big cock," he observed as soon as he saw my erection come into view. He 
smirked again, relishing the effect that he had produced my erection by merely 
being naked. "I got small cock, see. Not big like yours."

I left my briefs at my feet and stepped away from them. I was only a hand's 
breadth from the naked boy, so close that I could feel the heat emanating from 
his bare flesh. My erect penis was so close to him that I could feel it 
throbbing with anticipation of touching him at any moment.

"It isn't that big," I said awkwardly. "You have a beautiful body," I added. 
"And you're a boy so you're s'posed to have a small one."

"Man with big cock usually like boys with small cocks," Phan giggled. "We 
can have sex together,... if you want? We can have good fun."

After his brother's open exhibition of teenage sexuality, I was no longer 
surprised at by being propositioned by a boy who was only eleven or twelve 
years old. During the long trip in the car, Chris and I had talked about the 
role of culture, socio-economic status, and moral standards in Thailand. He 
theorized that there was a relationship that extended far beyond the 
problems of poverty. They lived to enjoy life to the fullest extent. In this 
part of the world sex play usually began by five years of age. By the time a 
boy was physically mature, he was discouraged from seeking out mature girls 
for intercourse. Instead, he would either be a passive partner for a man, or 
directing his affections to girls who were too young to become pregnant. Birth 
control was built into the culture and societal taboos had been formulated 
accordingly. Homosexuality continued until he was old enough to support a wife 
and family. Poverty simply exacerbated a pre-existing proclivity for a man and 
boy to have sex and introduced appropriate rewards for services rendered.

I nodded. "We can have lots of fun, Phan, if that's what you want."

Phan nodded eagerly as he giggled. "You're hot from walking. First we swim, 
then we have fun and get hot again."

His suggestion was exactly what I needed. My brow was dripping perspiration. 
My shirt, now discarded on the mossy ground, was soaking wet. My chest was 
glistening with droplets of sweat that continued to ooze out of my skin even 
though I was naked. I could not remember being this hot before. Before I did 
anything else I needed to cool down.

I followed the naked boy to the edge of the pool and watched him dive in. In 
two or three strokes he reached the waterfall. I laughed as the water cascaded 
onto his dark head and eventually pushed him under. He splashed wildly as he 
surfaced, swam away from the torrent and began to tread water as he shook 
his black hair. Sparkling droplets of water were thrown in all directions. 
He laughed and beckoned to me to join him. Unable to resist any longer and 
knowing that the boy was at least partially interested in doing something with 
me, I dived in. Under the water I could see his dark form ahead of me, his 
long thin legs moving back and forth. I came closer, momentarily glimpsed 
his small sex, felt cheated that he was no longer stiff, considered a 
playful squeeze. The water was pleasantly cool and within a few seconds my 
erection also began to diminish. With it, my excitement faded. There was 
plenty of time for what I wanted. I surfaced close to him, directly under 
the waterfall and sighed with relief as the water engulfed me from above. 
After a few seconds I swam away, grateful for my escape from the heat and 
the pent-up desire that had raged inside me since I was a teenager. Here in 
Thailand, with this beautiful man-child, I was free to explore my interest 
in young boys at long last.

Phan grinned as I emerged from under the waterfall. He swam effortlessly 
towards me, as if he had been born in the water. He came up beside me and 
giggled cheekily as he splashed water in my face. I laughed with him.

"You'll get yours, Phan," I teased.

I wondered how much he understood. He certainly had a good grasp of the basics 
of English, at least as it pertained to sex. It was more than enough to 
accomplish what he seemed to want as much as I did. But how much did he 
understand about what I wanted? I did not have to wait very long to find out.

"Now we have fun and get hot again."

I raised my eyebrows with an exaggerated interest and he giggled again. He 
turned and swam effortlessly away from me. I followed. We reached a shallow 
part of the pond and I stood up unsteadily. I wondered what it would be like 
to kiss him. His mouth was large and his dark lips were full and inviting. His 
tongue was delicious, pink and big. I wondered what it would be like to suck 
his tongue as we kissed.

"You're a horny little fucker, aren't you, Phan?" I asked.

He looked at me uncertainly, nonplussed by my words. Slowly he smiled and 
glanced around the tropical glade. His mouth opened to display the whitest 
teeth that I had ever seen. It was obscenely open, forming a wide circle as 
his lips were stretched into thin lines. Chris had reasoned that the boy was 
still a virgin but now I had my doubts. He was anything but innocent. His hand 
came out of the water and he gestured towards the bank where we had first 
greeted each other.

"You really want to do it here?" I asked nervously.

"I suck your cock, okay? I suck good, like Udon does with Chris," Phan 
teased as he met my eyes. "You come with me."

It was unlikely, I mused as I glanced down between us. Droplets of water 
sparkled on his body like diamonds scattered on brown satin. From the size 
of his testicles it seemed highly unlikely that his tiny penis could pass 
any fluid except urine. I reasoned that 'come' was intended to mean that I 
would follow him to a place where our privacy was assured. I looked up and met 
his eyes.

The dark pools, like glistening oil, absorbed and held my gaze. He was no 
older than twelve but his look conveyed everything that he needed to say. I 
realized again that there was never going to be a problem of communication 
with Phan. One look said it all. Again I glanced around guiltily as I 
remembered the women and girls down by the river. Wherever Phan would lead 
me would be secluded and private. No one would see us. I nodded cautiously. 
Together we waded to the edge and climbed up the bank. Instantly the 
oppressive heat returned.

I followed Phan deeper into the jungle. He pushed vines and broad-leafed ferns 
away. His small bottom wriggled at me temptingly as he clambered over moss-
covered rocks. His cheeks were firm and pinched, only parting when he 
climbed over the thick trunk of a fallen tree. The tree's girth was 
considerably more than a meter across and he lay over it provocatively. I 
glimpsed the full depth of his crack as it split open and revealed the 
darkness of his puckered node. His hole appeared bigger and darker than I 
would have expected in a young boy. Perhaps he was not a virgin? Perhaps 
that was how Thai boys were? Perhaps that was how all boys were, after all I 
had no basis for comparison. Phan looked back at me and smirked as he paused 
above the log. For a few seconds his hips undulated against the rotted bark. 
It was a lewd gesture whose meaning was very clear. Even if he was a virgin, 
he understood the basics of what was required of him.

He slithered over the log with snake-like ease and dropped to the other 
side. He turned to face me. We were both standing close to the tree trunk 
but on opposite sides. His hand moved to his groin, shamelessly fondling his 
penis again while he maintained a steady stare at me. His dark body was 
covered in a sheen of perspiration. The sunlight formed strong shadows as it 
filtered through the leaves. The contrast of light and dark and a myriad 
shapes that patterned his naked body added to his allure. He was sensual and 
wild, proudly displaying his sexual prowess without appearing crude or wanton. 
He was an animal of the forest, without strict cultural conventions that 
denied his sexuality. In western society, Phan was a minor to be protected. 
Here, in the highlands of Thailand, he was at his prime and like the fruit 
of the jungle, ready to be plucked. He did not need to be ripe, his hairless 
body having an inherent sweetness of its own. Only the log stood between us 
and our own desires.

His penis hardened almost instantly. His young heart pumped blood into the 
small organ at an alarming rate, and then when it was fully erect, it began to 
jerk as he tightened muscles deep within his abdomen. He was as ready as he 
would ever be for me to love him.

I leaned forward and placed my hands on the slippery bark. I studied the 
aroused boy, his own excitement visible in his rapid breathing. It 
galvanized me, awakening my body as adrenaline surged through me. Unable to 
resist the desire that Phan had kindled, I climbed over the tree trunk. As I 
reached the other side, Phan's body seemed to fall away. I eased downward onto 
the ground, taking my weight on my arms and knees as I straddled him. I 
could feel my heart pounding, my penis throbbing with every beat, my mind 
quickening so as not to miss a single thing that happened in the glade.

The boy, who only moments ago had been so energized as he scampered eagerly 
through the forest, now lay very still. He waited. His lips pursed. I leaned 
forward and gently brushed my lips against his. The sudden heat startled me as 
his mouth lifted up and sealed against mine. I felt his tongue pushing forward 
into my mouth and it whetted my appetite. I took him in, sucking on his soft 
wetness as my own tongue found its way into his mouth. We kissed long and hard 
until we were both breathless.

My mind was in disarray when we parted. I had never kissed a boy before and it 
was very different to a woman. There was at the same time a sense of 
breaking taboos and an overwhelming passion that threatened to stop my 
heart. The stimulation from his small mouth and tongue was more than I could 
stand. I pushed myself upward until my arms were straight. Phan smiled 
shyly. His pink tongue swiped at his lips as he prepared for the next kiss. We 
were both panting. Unable to resist, I lay down over him. His heated body 
touched mine and we seemed to sizzle as our moist skin united. 

He moved beneath me with ferverish desire, wriggling and pushing against me as 
our swollen genitals were agitated. His stiff penis rubbed against my belly 
while mine pushed into the firm muscles of his thigh. We kissed again and 
again. Given the difference in our heights it was impossible for us to kiss 
when our genitals were together. Something had to give as Phan continued to 
move under me trying hard to both kiss me and rub his rigid penis against mine 
at the same time. What happened to solve our dilemma occurred purely by 
accident. By myself, and knowing as little as I did, I might not have 
discovered the advantages of the sixty-nine position with a boy. An mosquito 
bit me on the back of the leg. I pushed away from Phan and sat up quickly as I 
scratched the bite. He immediately twisted around and pushed me back into 
the leaves where he had been lying only a moment earlier. He rolled onto me 
and we wrestled playfully.

When we resumed our exploration, we were no longer face to face. Instead, I 
was greeted by Phan's small, rigid penis. The child, for that was what he 
still was, was perfect. He was still hairless. His erect penis was no more 
than ten centimeters (4") long, much thicker at the base than at the 
uncircumcised tip. His foreskin still retained its little-boy appearance--it 
fully enclosed his glans and did not easily retract as I tenderly pushed down. 
His glans popped out into the light. It was tiny and dark, and it glistened 
with a slight wet sheen as its protective membrane peeled back. Upon close 
examination, his testicles were larger than I expected. It dawned upon me 
slowly that Phan was on the very threshold of puberty. His testicles were 
flushed with the onset of physical maturity, already churning out the hormones 
that would change his slim boy's body into that of a youth.

Taking him into my mouth was the most natural thing in the world. At the 
same time as I devoured him, I felt his lips against my own organ. His 
tongue travelled up and down the length of my shaft, dragging his spit over 
it. I felt his warm cheek as he rubbed it against his face. I felt the hot 
moistness of his breath. I clamped my mouth around this beautiful boy's 
penis and concentrated on giving him the same pleasure that he was providing 
to me. His mouth settled over my glans and his sharp teeth nibbled behind 
it. His tongue slurped over the head, squeezing the tip of his wonderful 
tongue into my slit. I sucked as hard as I could, easily taking his penis 
and both of his testicles into my mouth before my cheeks were full.

Phan began to hump against me. His short thin cock rammed into the back of 
my throat. As he pulled out his testicles caught behind my teeth. His 
scrotum tightened, then relaxed as he pushed forward again. His small head 
began to move. It bobbed up and down over my own penis as his fingers clutched 
and massaged my testicles. Again and again he pumped his mouth over my 
penis, each time cautiously going a little deeper, until I finally realized 
that he wanted, even expected me to do the same thing to him. I took over, 
lifting my thighs upwards and driving my erect penis as far into his mouth 
as I dared. 

Phan pleasured me in a way that I had previously only dreamed about. As my 
orgasm approached he allowed by penis to go even further into his mouth, 
almost into his throat before his grip on my testicles prevented my further 
inward movement. As the time raced by and the moment of my inevitable 
release approached by I wondered what I should do. Should I warn him? Should I 
push his head away and allow him to finish the job by hand? I settled for 
the former course of action. I disengaged from his genitals for only a 
moment or two and stopped thrusting upward into his lush, wet mouth.

"I going to do it any second now?" I gasped.

Either Phan ignored me or was so intent on his task that my words were lost. 
His head continued to bob up and down frantically. I grasped his dark head and 
held him still. He struggled, his head tore free of my hands and continued 
to jerk rapidly. I shuddered, unable to stop the boy, not wanting to stop him. 
I felt my testicles tighten, his little fingers squeezing my scrotum as hard 
as he could. I spasmed, knowing that it was too late. His teeth clamped 
against the sensitive flesh of my penis at the instant that my semen began 
to rise through the shaft. I felt my penis lurch, throbbing as the pressure 
built up to release. The wonderful all-too-short time was gone before I was 
prepared. I slumped back exhausted into the moist leaves of the jungle floor.

Several seconds passed before I realized that I had not actually ejaculated. 
Phan, darling Phan, was sitting astride me, his knees next to my flanks. He 
gripped my penis tightly at the base. His mouth had pulled away and he was 
sucking gently on the end of it. My own mouth dropped open in surprise. He had 
stifled my release and contained it within my penis. Now he was a connoisseur, 
savoring each droplet as he allowed it to escape onto his waiting palate.

"You were wonderful," I said with uncontrolled admiration.

Phan grinned at me sideways and nibbled my highly sensitive glans again. His 
tongue wriggled across the tip. He slurped noisily, exaggerating his delight 
as he consumed my seminal fluid.

"How on earth did you learn to do it like that?" I asked. "From watching 
Udon and Chris?" I suggested.

Phan grinned again and shook his head, signaling with his eyes that he was too 
busy to reply. I waited patiently until he had milked my penis of its 
juices. Finally he lifted up, gave my penis one final wet lick, kissed my 
glans, and burped. He swivelled around and slid off me and onto the leaves 
beside me.

"I suck you good, huh? You suck real good too," he laughed. "Grandfather teach 
me how to do it like that."

"Your grandfather?" I asked. I thought of the wizened little man in the hut. 
"He must be a good teacher," I teased. "You were wonderful."

"You come too fast. We have to practice," Phan smirked and added, "Then we can 
suck all day long, okay? I drink your milk and grow strong like you."

"Okay!" I replied happily. I could think of nothing better than performing 
oral intercourse on the beautiful naked boy beside me. "You want me to 
finish you off?" I added as I inspected his still-erect penis and wondered 
whether it had milk of its own yet.

Phan shrugged. "You can if you want. I'm hungry now. Tonight is better. You 
fuck me then too, okay?"

I nodded. I was no longer surprised by what I discovered in 'boy-paradise'. 
The last few minutes had taken care of that. "Tonight, Phan, I'll do 
whatever you want." He licked his lips inelegantly and tasted the residue of 
my semen. "You taste good. Better than Udon or Grandfather, I think."



++++++++++++++++++++++++ Sydney, August 1994 +++++++++++++++++++



By the time I arrived back in Sydney it was past five o'clock and the banks 
were closed. To meet such a problem I had agreed to meet Chris Arneson at 
his house. There, he would have the necessary contracts and could arrange 
for the electronic transfer of my assets to the bank's account. I brought with 
me the certificates for 100,000 shares of Equitable Mining Proprietary 
common stock, more than enough to cover the bank's million dollars at the 
closing price of that day.

The traffic was heavy as I drove through Kings Cross and down into Rose Bay. 
Just before the road ascended the hill before Vaucluse, the traffic thinned. 
It was, by the digital clock in the XJS, just six p.m. Finding Chris Arneson's 
house, or more accurately, his modest mansion, took a mere twenty minutes of 
careful searching. His address gave nothing away and it turned out that he 
lived down a private drive of what had once been a mega-mansion on the 
harbour. As I motored down the tree-lined lane it was like going back fifty 
years to the height of the British Empire. Chris lived in elegant style, as 
befitted the senior vice-president of one of Sydney's largest commercial 
banks.

His house was a Mediterranean-style villa of white-stuccoed walls and large 
rectangular windows, each with a wrought-iron balcony. It was surrounded by 
the ubiquitous gum trees for which Sydney is famous. I parked in the middle of 
the drive, my cavalier attitude resurgent after I had finally located the 
right house. My shoes were soft-soled but there was still an echo on the 
dark brown tiles as I walked to the front door. I was greeted by Chris, 
attired in a crimson robe, with drink in one hand and his other resting on the 
bare shoulder of a very handsome teenage boy.

Chris' companion exuded the rugged look that is common to Australian youth. 
His appearance was partially in keeping either coming straight from the pool 
or the shower, but the plump arc of his semi-erect penis that protruded into 
his nylon shorts suggested an alternative pastime. I settled for the 'pool', 
even though his bare torso was spotted with droplets of water and his legs 
were wet, his swimming costume was bone dry. It amused me to think that this 
marvellous specimen of Australian youth had been skinny dipping with a man who 
was old enough to be his grandfather.

Already the boy's chest had started to fill out but there was still enough 
of the boy in him to arouse my interest. His nipples were very small and 
pointed and looked as if they would be fun to nibble on. He squirmed under 
Chris' possessive hand and gave me a petulant look that left me uncertain as 
to whether he found my interested study of his partially nude body 
offensive, or if I had spoiled his fun. He pulled away from Chris with a 
grumbled hello as we were formally introduced.

David sauntered back into the cool depths of the house while I chatted with 
Chris in the hall. The house was not ostentatious but it exuded wealth. My 
eyes were attracted to the paintings on the wall. One was a classic etching by 
Norman Lindsay of an androgynous youth in a garden. He posed with sensual ease 
beside a sculpture of an unidentified Greek god. The other painting was a 
small traditional oil by Arthur Streeton. Either painting was worth 
considerably more than my Jaguar.

Chris smiled broadly as I dictated my terms for the deal. Since I had demanded 
all of the major conditions when I was with him earlier, there were few 
surprises. Now the issues were of timing and the specifics regarding my risk 
exposure. We were interrupted as David appeared in the doorway. He was pouting 
as he beckoned to Arneson impatiently. Not be outdone by a mere boy, we waited 
until the boy came to us. I observed his continuing uneasiness and Chris' 
ready familiarity as he affectionately placed his arm around the boy's 
shoulders and hugged him. Again, David tried to pull away but this time Chris' 
hand tightened and held him so that escape was impossible. Finally, we both 
started to laugh as the youth submitted tentatively to an embrace.

After having spent two weeks with Chris in Thailand, I suspected the nature of 
David's problem. His tough exterior was a veneer that sheltered the boy-
chrysalis within until he emerged and accepted his role as a subordinate in 
a homosexual relationship with a grown man. According to Chris, most boys 
who had a relationship with a man, ended up on the bottom when they were 
older. The need for a 'father-figure' persisted, it seemed. Accepting that 
role was difficult as the boy matured into adolescence and sexual arousal 
became ever more frequent. It was not surprising that the process of 'coming 
out' was an awkward period in a boy's life and David's predicament was 
undoubtedly exacerbated by my presence at the very time that he wanted 
affection, and in all probability, sexual release.

"For God's sake, David," Arneson said with growing exasperation. "Peter 
knows I like boys. I'm quite certain that he's already guessed that I fuck you 
on a regular basis."

I nodded and stifled my laugh at the boy's discomfiture. "What you do is 
none of my business, David," I added. He continued to blush, turning ever more 
crimson. I used my advantage. "I certainly hope he fucks you regularly. If you 
were my boyfriend I'd be more than happy to oblige every chance I got."

Suddenly the embarrassed boy became aggressive as he substituted deliberate 
rudeness for his own inability to conform to societal norms and accept the 
undeniable fact that he found his own sex more satisfying that the other. 
Not only that but my reference to his subordinate position in the relationship 
could not go unchallenged, despite its accuracy.

"Yeah, right on! You wouldn't know where to put it," he challenged crudely.

I shrugged and ignored him. David's self esteem was not my responsibility.

"Maybe we ought to sit down and work this out over dinner," Chris suggested 
patiently. "What ever has gotten David so horny will have to wait until 
later tonight. He knows where the vaseline is if he wants to go work it off by 
himself."

I followed Arneson into the library as David lingered behind. His look 
bordered on revolt as I passed by him. Teenage boys, what would the world do 
without them?

The library was panelled in light-colored maple with the shelves full of books 
with leather-tooled spines and gold lettering. A single painting caught my eye 
and for a second I thought of the two boys, Udon and Phan, as they frolicked 
naked and sexually aroused in the forested glades of Thailand. But it was 
not Thailand and the painting was not of the boy who I had come to love almost 
as much as I adored his young body. The painting had been signed 'D. Friend' 
and dated thirty years earlier, a time when boy-love was an accepted pursuit 
in Bali. The languid bodies of two brown-skinned boys had been caught in post-
orgasmic bliss as they rested on the vines and leaves that rose up from the 
ground to engulf them.

"I can see why Thailand interests you," I chuckled. "But I don't understand 
the attraction to him," I added as I gestured towards the open door and the 
boy who was now out of hearing.

"David's okay. He's just going though a difficult period right now. He 
called his mum a few nights ago and she wants him to come home. He's not 
sure what he wants to do,... except get his arse fucked of course."

"Of course!", I laughed. "Now why doesn't that surprise me? How old is he?" 
I asked curiously.

"He's fourteen. He'll be fifteen next March. But you know Peter, the little 
bugger shoots a man-size load every time and his balls aren't even that big 
yet."

I laughed as I remembered his frequent comments on Udon's capacity. Arneson 
liked his boys with copious quantities of semen it seemed. In that way we were 
very different. I much preferred a boy to be immature in the sperm department.

"How did you meet him, Chris?" I asked curiously.

"It's a long story. The short version is that his old man caught him with 
one of the neighborhood boys in the back of his H-R Holden. Apparently he 
either didn't want the car smelling like a brothel or he didn't like the 
idea of a faggot for a son. The point is that he told his son to fuck off, 
which was, as David tells me, exactly what he was doing in the car any way. 
I picked him up at Kings Cross a day or two after he ran away. A couple of 
poofter-bashers had gotten into him down in the Botanical Gardens when they 
caught him sucking off some Jap tourist in the 'loo. He was in pretty sad 
shape. I thought he was going to lose a tooth for a while."

"Poor kid," I said with understanding. "No kid deserves that."

"He's okay. He fucks like the dickens, especially when he's like this. A few 
days ago I almost didn't make it in to work. He kept me up all night. When I 
wasn't in his arse he was trying to get me hard. I think we must have done 
it a dozen times, about like you and Phan the day before you left Thailand."

"He sounds a lot more like Udon," I joked. "Most of the time Phan slept like a 
log afterwards. That night was something of an exception, a nice exception, 
but I still didn't get it in his arse more than two or three times a day 
most of the time. He used to get sore because my cock was too big for him. I 
didn't want to hurt him, even though he said it was okay to do it."

Chris smiled. "You should have kept at it. Phan needed to be stretched a 
bit, that's all. Most boys are the same way. I would have shown you what to do 
if you had asked."

I laughed with him. "I know you had your hands full with his brother. You were 
always hard at work keeping him happy."

Arneson laughed. "Udon I can handle. He's a little sex machine. You fill him 
up and it lasts for a few hours before he wants a refill. But David! Jesus! As 
soon as I pull it out, he wants it back again. Talk about perpetual fucking 
motion."

"Maybe he's making up for lost time," I suggested. "If he's fourteen now, some 
might say he was already past his prime."

"Only if they were true boy-lovers like you. Personally I think he's 
overcompensating for his father. You know Peter, he calls me Dad when we're in 
bed. At first I thought it was a game for him, like he was trying to get 
back at his father for throwing him out of the house, but now I think he's got 
a deep-down desire to fuck with his old man."

"You're joking," I said in disbelief. "With his father? Don't you think that's 
unlikely after he threw the kid out of the house?"

"Hey, don't be so surprised," Chris laughed. "I think a lot of queer kids have 
the hots for their daddies. I know I did. Of course not a lot of boys get to 
act them out, but I suspect a lot more kids do than you might expect, Peter."

"So did you get laid by your father, Chris?" I asked teasingly.

"I'm afraid it was only wishful thinking on my part. I used to think that I 
almost seduced him once when my mother was on holidays in Greece only I lost 
my nerve. Looking back, I'm certain I was barking up the wrong tree. I don't 
think he was particularly interested in boys. But I think it happens a lot 
more than anyone is prepared to admit, especially with all the noise now about 
sexually abused kids."

"You make it sound like Oedipus was gay," I said.

"That's what I'm saying, Peter. Who has the greatest influence on a gay kid, 
next to his mother that is? His father does, doesn't he? The love is already 
there when the kid is ready to start fucking. In fact it's has been there 
for ten or twelve years. And when the hormones kick in at puberty, it's time 
for a bit of incest if his old man is interested. Of course, being a daddy 
usually precludes being interested in boys, so the kid looks elsewhere for his 
fun."

"You make it sound like a it's a natural opportunity for sex," I added.

"But like I said, not if his dad is straight. Then you've got one very 
disturbed boy unless he can find a replacement father figure. Why do you think 
boys like David are attracted to older men when they could have their pick 
of guys closer to their own age?"

I tried to fit his suggestion into what I already knew about Phan. Time and 
time again I had tried to fathom what was the basis of his attraction to me. I 
certainly understood why I was attracted to him. I was smart enough to realize 
that his primary reason for sleeping with me was material gain, but he also 
enjoyed my affection. At times I thought that the boy was even in love with me 
from the way he carried on at times.

"I never thought about it like that," I replied. "I guess it makes sense 
when you consider the bonds that already exist between a father and his son. 
Of course, Chris, the other explanation is that a kid like David is just 
attracted to men like we're attracted to boys."

I was startled as Chris stood up and called to David. Until he appeared I 
wondered whether Chris was going to confront the boy and use the him to 
reinforce his argument that filial love was the root cause of his 'problem'. A 
minute later the boy appeared and trotted obediently across the room to his 
'father figure'. His sulky spell had vanished. He grinned as Chris peeled 
three twenty-dollar bills out of his wallet and handed them over with 
instructions to order some pizzas. I watched him amble out of the room. He was 
well into adolescence and I felt a twinge of regret at not meeting him when he 
was younger. The changes of puberty were now confirmed in the faint trace of 
downy hair on his legs and the ever-present and very prominent bulge in his 
shorts. He had a splendid body with well-defined muscles and little fat. If 
a man liked mature boys, David would be a pleasure to have as a bed companion.

"So what did you think of my sister and her friend?" Chris asked.

"I like them," was my honest answer. "I think Hannah is a very intelligent 
woman with good taste."

"So you like Tricia, huh?" Chris teased. "You didn't happen to meet Tristan 
too, did you?" I shook my head. "That's a pity. He's an absolute darling. He's 
one in a mullion."

"I saw his photo on Hannah's desk. He's probably the cutest kid I've every 
seen," I acknowledged truthfully.

I silently studied Chris Arneson and tried to fathom what he was thinking. 
He had selected me as his sister's partner for reasons far beyond the fact 
that I had experience with bankrupt companies. I knew that it had to do with 
the two weeks we spent together in Thailand. During that time we had developed 
a close friendship based on trust, mutual respect, and similar interests--
boys. Chris returned my look until he shrugged abruptly and began to smile.

"I guess you're trying to figure out why I wanted you in on the deal," he said 
quietly. I raised an eyebrow quizzically. "There were really two reasons, 
Peter. First, I needed a man who had the money and know-how to put the deal 
together and make it work. For obvious reasons he had to be able to get 
along with my sister and Tricia. A lot of men would resent their relationship. 
I really want you to turn the company around."

"That really doesn't explain why you brought me in. What was your other 
reason?"

"And I had to be able to trust him." Chris stretched back into the leather 
lounge and crossed his legs. His hands clasped and his fingers interlocked. 
"I'm very interested in young Tristan's future with you. You see, Peter, 
he's very special to me as well as being my nephew."

My amused expression did little to convey my confusion. Knowing what I did 
about his predilection for boys, it was difficult to conceive of Chris Arneson 
as being even remotely interested in handing his nephew's future over to me. 
Even if he was the uncle of the beautiful boy that I was now enamored of, he 
would still be very interested in his 'future'. I pictured the hut in the 
highlands of Thailand in my mind and remembered the nights that I had spent 
there with Chris Arneson and two dark-skinned boys. It was impossible to 
forget that he spent almost as much time inside Udon's body as he did 
outside it. By comparison, Phan and I were neophytes.

And then I tried to decide how Chris was Tristan's uncle when Hannah was not 
his mother. Given that only a few years separated Chris and Hannah in age, 
my brain slowly approached a conclusion that appeared highly improbable. 
Hannah would have to be Tristan's mother, instead of Tricia. It made very 
little sense to me.There was no reason why he would lie to me, not after 
what I already knew about him, and what he knew about me.

"Tristan is actually Alex's son you see, Peter." Chris smiled mysteriously 
as I stared at the man before me in growing confusion.

"I still don't understand," I muttered at last.

Several long seconds passed before he continued. "Or if you prefer, Hannah's 
son, Alex, is my half-brother. You see, Alexander is the reason why we left 
Sweden and came to Australia. It was really very upsetting at the time, Peter. 
Our father raped Hannah one night after our mother was off on one of her trips 
to the Mediterranean. Hannah was only sixteen at the time. After that, 
well,... she hated men. It's probably the reason why she became interested 
in women. Personally, I can't blame her. The first time she had sex she became 
pregnant. I wonder what the odds are on that?"

"I can understand that. Why didn't she have an abortion?"

"The problem was that she wanted the baby," Chris continued. "I wanted to 
leave Sweden and so she came with me. We never told our father where we were 
going."

"But wasn't there a risk?" I asked.

"Hannah was very healthy and even though she was quite young, the baby 
didn't cause her any problems.

"I mean there is a risk of birth defects and that kind of thing, isn't there?" 
I added.

"I know what you mean. Of course there is always a risk of birth defects 
when the child is conceived during incest, but actually, the risk is lower 
than you might expect. Still, she was very lucky with Alex. He was perfect."

I regarded Chris silently. A lot of loose ends suddenly joined together. The 
strong similarities between the handsome man sitting on the couch before me, 
Alex, and beautiful Tristan, were no longer unexplained. But any way that I 
thought about it, I was still surprised. Chris had given me more than enough 
reason to think that his nephew was gay. I suspected that I was about to 
hear an interesting story, particularly when I considered that Tristan was 
barely eleven years old and Alex was in his mid-twenties. Tristan's father 
could not have been more much than a boy himself when the child was conceived. 
Chris took a deep breath and began.

"I don't know whether Hannah told you how she met Tricia but it started when 
she was teaching fashion design at the Art College. Tricia was a first-year 
student when they met. It was the summer of 1982 and Alex was pretty much 
out of the closet by then. We had been together for about three years and we 
spent every free moment we had together. I was the obvious person that he 
would turn to as he became interested in sex. Of course Hannah knew I was gay, 
a boy-lover actually,... in fact the first time that Alex stayed at my house 
was at her suggestion. He was only twelve but he was very sexy. He knew what 
he wanted when most boys barely knew that their dicks can be used for more 
than peeing through," he laughed. "But then Hannah and I were raised to be 
very open about sex. I guess it was my mother's way of getting us to accept 
her own need for something on the side."

"I can imagine."

"It might sound disgusting because he was my half-brother, but we were very 
much in love. It's really impossible to convey how much I adored him. He was a 
wonderful boy and he made love like an angel."

I nodded and settled back into the leather-covered cushions of the adjacent 
couch. A few months ago I would have been distressed by a man admitting that 
he loved his own brother, a boy who was old enough to be his son. But after 
Thailand, I understood that when love blossoms between a man and a boy there 
is nothing that either of them can do to stop its natural course. I could 
understand Chris' love for Alex, just as I could understand my love for a 
boy like Phan, or Tristan.

"Anyway, I'm getting away from the story. They fell in love and after a few 
months Tricia moved in with my sister. That was when Alex moved in with me 
full-time. It was only about a year after that when they decided that Tricia 
should have a baby. When it came to picking a father, they came to me. Alex 
had been with me for about four years and it was perfectly clear he would 
never get married. He was only two years younger than Tricia so he was the 
logical choice for the father. Tristan was conceived just after Alex turned 
sixteen. Actually he'd be twelve now except for the fact that Alex was a 
late maturer and he didn't start producing semen until then."

I smiled. "I'm surprised Alex did it. I thought you just said that he was one-
hundred percent gay."

"Oh, but he is, Peter. That was the big problem until Hannah came up with 
the idea of using a meat baster. You know, one of those big, plastic eye- 
dropper things."

"So that's what a virgin birth is!" I chuckled. "You just squirt it in there."

"You got the idea! After that, the rest was easy. Even Alex liked the idea 
of fathering a child. I'll never forget the night I wanked Alex off and let 
him squirt into the bloody thing. I fucked him first for about an hour to 
get him really worked up but I was still surprised how little there was of it. 
Most sixteen year old boys could fill a tablespoon. Poor old Alex produced 
less than a teaspoon but it was more than enough to do the job. We gave it 
Hannah and they did the rest. The only real problem was that they really 
wanted a girl and they got young Tristan instead."

There was little that I could say. For the life of me I could not understand 
why anyone wanted a GIRL even if they were lesbians and they would be far more 
comfortable with her than raising a BOY. A boy was living perfection, 
created for a man like me for the sole purpose of loving.

Just as I finished signing the papers, David returned to announce that the 
pizza man had delivered dinner. I had been able to restrain my curiosity about 
my role in Tristan's future but try as I could, it was impossible to put the 
boy out of my mind entirely. Was I as much in love with Tristan Alexander 
Gordon as my confused brain seemed to believe? I needed to meet him in person. 
It was impossible that he was as perfect as I imagined him to be. I loved 
him already, and he was no more real than a photograph.



+++++++++++++++++++++ Thailand, Four months earlier ++++++++++++++++++++



For a long while I thought I was in love with Phan. However, a single week 
is too short to establish the bonds that bind two people together. I have no 
doubts that I was infatuated with his luscious brown body, enamored of his 
golden skin, perpetually hard penis, and ready smile, but if I truly loved 
him, I would never have left Thailand. Still, as we ambled back from the 
secret glade where I discovered my true self, I believed that I loved him. His 
small hand fitted within mine as if it had been created solely with that 
purpose in mind. We walked side by side, swinging our arms like two boys 
revelling in their friendship and the joyful exuberance of youth. The 
thought of sex with him was never out of my head. He radiated desire and my 
animal lust to possess him became stronger with every step we took.

We arrived back at the village before dusk. The stares that had followed 
Udon and the man who had the important role of being his lover, were no 
different from the stares that followed Phan and me. Mothers and 
grandmothers averted their gaze, fathers and grandfathers smiled, a few 
young men graciously acknowledged the youngster's new status by brief waves. I 
hoped they were jealous of me as I escorted one of the most desirable boys 
in the village, if not in the region back to his family. Phan grinned 
ebulliently and clutched my hand tightly. He was proud to show me off although 
his heart beat quickly in nervous anticipation of what necessarily followed. 
Only a few hours earlier he had enviously watched other boys with their 
adult companions and wondered when his own time would come.

A feast was being prepared at the family compound. A young pig, offspring of a 
dark, fat matriarch, was already hanging over the glowing embers of a fire. 
The smell of pork permeated the rest of the village and gave a festive air 
to our pace. Fronds of banana and palm had been placed below the huts and 
assorted foods had begun to collect in the center. People from the village and 
neighboring farms began to arrive, each group bringing more food.

I sat by Chris. He could sense the change in me and told me so. Boys have that 
effect on men, he laughed. They could take the years away with a laugh and a 
quick wank. He probed playfully, eager to find out what had transpired in 
the jungle. My eyes never left Phan as he wandered around, sometimes 
aimlessly, sometimes engaging in conversation with Udon, sharing a shy smile 
with his grandfather as he nodded. I could tell he was happy. Before his 
family and their friends, my shameless boy had suddenly become too embarrassed 
to be seen in my company. Chris laughed and told me Udon was do different at 
first. It was simply the way boys were when they became the focus of a man's 
attention, before they became accustomed to the attention, before they learned 
that there was nothing to be ashamed of because almost all of the men in the 
village had been through similar experiences. Doing IT for the first time 
was a cause for celebration, Chris explained. 

"You mean I'm the guest of honor?" I asked. 

Chris laughed. "Well, its hardly likely to be Udon's first time. Don't be 
surprised, Peter. Remember what I said about the Thais. They have a very 
different perspective about sex compared to what we are used to. Phan losing 
his virginity is considered one of the most important social events in the 
village. It's on a par with marriage." He chuckled at his own joke. "Down in 
Phuket you would be trying to keep out of sight of the local cops. Here, 
you're something of a local hero."

I smiled and felt awkward as Phan came closer. He was suddenly a shy little 
boy as he settled down beside me, curling his legs under him and modestly 
covering his bare brown thighs with his tee shirt. His sisters served us, 
bringing food on thin blades of hand polished teak. Phan nibbled at his 
food, now continually averting his eyes with demure grace. He was poised, 
possessing a natural dignity that entranced me. The light from a dozen 
kerosene lamps flickered over his face. I was enamored of his sensitive 
features, the fullness of lips that I already knew to be passionate. I could 
not take my eyes away from him for more than a few seconds before looking back 
and marvelling at his beauty.

The food was excellent. I ate hungrily as I enjoyed each new taste. The 
combinations of fragrant smells, spicy-hot delicacies, sweet mixtures of 
tropical fruits were a gourmet's delight. With Phan's company and the 
anticipation of making love to him, I could wish for nothing more. Finally, 
Chris nudged me in the side and smirked. 

"Time to do the deed, old man," he laughed. "Take Phan to bed and do your 
best. Everyone is waiting to eat. You don't want them to think you're rude 
or not UP to the job, so to speak." 

"What?" I demanded. "You mean? Now? I'm supposed to do it now?"

"Of course. I told you it was a celebration. They have to have something to 
celebrate."

I was beginning to wonder why only the four of us had been served. Suddenly 
I understood. I swallowed nervously. "Where?" I asked simply. 

Chris grinned. "You're expected to use his parents' bed to teach him how to 
make love. It is his first time you know, Peter. Of course after tonight 
you're going to have to share it with Udon and me. It's big enough for the 
four of us although we might keep you awake sometimes. Just go with Phan. He 
knows where to go even if he doesn't quite know what to do. Don't take too 
long, but don't rush it either. We're not talking about quantity here. He 
needs a quality fuck for his first time okay? I'm sure you'll be UP to it."

 I turned slightly, aware that Phan was rising to his feet. His outstretched 
hand reached down and he drew me up. With my European genes, I towered over 
the beautiful Asian boy. He smiled, his dark liquid eyes absorbing my gaze, 
his thin fingers squeezing my fingers seeking silent encouragement and the 
strength to walk past the forty or fifty people who had gathered to witness 
his passage from boy to youth. When he returned, he would not be the 
innocent child who now walked unsteadily beside me. He would have taken a 
man's penis into his body and been filled with his seed, an act that would 
immediately make him the social equal of many boys older than him and any 
woman in the village, including his own mother. We climbed the ladder into the 
hut, disappearing into the secluded darkness. The aroma of Frangipani came 
to me as we approached the bed. I could barely see Phan but I was very aware 
of his presence beside me. His hand felt hot and moist. 

I will never forget the first time I made love to a boy. Each second is etched 
into my mind. I undressed Phan, revelling in the touch of his bare warm flesh. 
He felt smoother than I remembered from the forest. Perhaps the darkness 
emphasized my other senses, perhaps if was merely the occasion. There was no 
need to speak. I knelt before him in silent homage of his lean body, greeted 
his rigid member with my lips and swallowed him until his penis and 
testicles were engulfed. I felt his hands behind my head as he began to pump 
in growing excitement. He groaned as waves of ecstasy washed over him. I 
felt the undulations of his hips as he plunged his rampart organ into my mouth 
with puerile eagerness. It would be many years before he had the right to be 
the active partner. Until his late teens this was as close as he would come. I 
did not want to interrupt his obvious pleasure but Chris' admonition not to 
take too long rang in my ears. I could have sucked that delicate morsel all 
night long. 

I eased him away long enough to unfasten my belt, button and zipper. I 
shoved my jeans down hurriedly and sat down on the bed to pull them and my 
shoes off. Phan stretched out alongside me and caressed my bare thigh with the 
tips of his fingers, slowly making progress towards my turgid shaft. He 
stroked it gently with his silky, strong fingers, giving me sensations that 
were totally unlike any that I gave myself by masturbating. Naked from the 
waist down I twisted onto my side and faced the beautiful child. I could 
barely see him in the darkness. The air was hot and humid and our bodies 
sweated, sharing mutual warmth that was infinitely enjoyable. I sensed that my 
pleasure would be unlike any I had known. Phan was an exquisite boy with a 
body that was as close to perfect as I could imagine.

Outside, muted voices reminded me of where I was. I inhaled the sweet 
smells, some of unknown origin, some of flowers, the pleasing odor of a 
young boy's sweat. I rolled onto him, submerging his acquiescent body under 
mine. His hands met behind my back as he sought to hug me and increase my 
pressure. He was remarkably strong. His head tilted back until his neck was 
stretched taut. We kissed spontaneously, uniting our mouths as our genitals 
were compressed in a loving embrace. I moved against him, grinding hard and 
hot flesh together, wanting nothing more than to ejaculate over his flat brown 
body. Still, it was not what I was there for. There would be other times and 
other places for that and I slid to one side in order to position Phan. To 
perform the intimate act required of us, it seemed that I would need his 
buttocks uppermost and supported by a pillow or two. Later, from watching 
Chris and Udon, and by experimenting with Phan, I would learn many other 
ways of making love to a boy but in my ignorance, I had to resort to a well-
tried and trusted position. 

The need for lubrication had never entered my mind before my first clumsy 
effort to penetrate an ass that was a half a dozen years too young by 
Western standards. By Oriental standards, it was a different story. A boy 
was at his prime before pubic hair made its first downy appearance. 
Fortunately, his grandfather knew what I did not and he had clearly 
explained to Phan was expected of him. By the side of the bed was a small bowl 
filled with the still warm oil from the suckling pig. I scooped up all that 
I could using three fingers and smeared it liberally into the small crack. His 
anus was exposed as his hands pulled his firm cheeks apart. I added more, 
working my fingertip around and around the puckered orifice, not daring to 
penetrate the sanctity of his virgin body until he gave me permission. I 
worked some into him by rubbing my oil-coated thumb along the length of his 
crevice and then rotating it directly over his anus. I added more and more, 
confident that he was enjoying every second and knowing instinctively that 
he would need all the oil I could get inside him. By Western standards my 
organ was of average size but to an Oriental I was very well endowed. Finally, 
I greased the shaft of my penis thoroughly, ready to take advantage of the 
moment when it arrived. 

After a few more minutes of lovingly caressing his nether regions, Phan sighed 
and wriggled his pelvis. It was a clear sign of what he wanted. I took a 
deep breath. It was my job to deflower him without causing him unnecessary 
pain. Chris had explained that a boy was injured, he felt not only physical 
pain. He suffered in other ways when his body was violated. In a sense, he 
lost his manhood. For at least the next few years he would be treated no 
differently to any of the married women in the village although his mother 
would continue to care for his needs. It was much more a loss of masculine 
prestige than it was a change in social status. The taking of his virginity 
was my responsibility and it had to be done with honor and respect. My penis 
came to his opening and lodged there, fitting neatly between his cheeks like 
it was always intended to be there. But it could go no further. My glans 
bulged into his anus and stopped. 

I pressed firmly, using a resolute pressure until he groaned. I eased back and 
gave him a moment's respite. I could feel him trembling as he fought back 
tears. He nodded, indicating that he was ready to try again. He was a brave 
boy. I squeezed forward, wanting to be inside his splendid body more than I 
could stand but realizing that I needed to be patient. Phan helped as much 
as he could, pushing back at me and trying to relax as he had been 
instructed to. The first few minutes were difficult for both of us and then 
the worst was over. My penis sank into him slowly. We both groaned with 
relief. The heat inside him was like an oven, almost enough to melt my 
penis. And he squeezed tightly, like a hand gripping my swollen member as I 
tried with Phan's assistance to get it in even further than seemed 
physically possible given the differences in our sizes. 

Finally, I was inside him as far as I dared to go. It felt as if another 
millimeter would cause him to split open. I could barely stand the 
sensations that were created inside his rectum. I closed my eyes and waited as 
each spasm made him shudder under me. It seemed impossible that his rectum, 
until now used for the sole purpose of defecation, could contain such 
remarkable pleasures. I wondered what muscles and vital organs existed in that 
region of his slender abdomen. Surely it was more than the coils of his 
intestine. His bladder perhaps, his tiny prostate for another, the wonderful 
muscles that controlled his bowel movements, all of them coordinated with a 
single purpose, that of creating for both of us, the most excruciating 
pleasure imaginable. I harbored no doubts that I was not hurting him. It was 
impossible for me to conceive otherwise, but Phan's motions were enough to 
convince me that he was also enjoying his first time. albeit amid waved of 
pain. 

I had barely started to thrust into him when I felt the onset of my orgasm. 
Despite my best efforts, I could not hold back. Short of pulling out, the 
end was getting nearer and nearer and there was nothing I could do to stop it. 
I had no interest in sporting my seed over his small rump. In slow motion I 
began to pump into him, riding him carefully and attentive to his body's 
needs. After a dozen gentle strokes into his clutching bowels the pressure 
seemed to fade. I realized his body had begun to accept me, eventually to want 
my plunging penis as much as I desired the awe-inspiring combination of his 
muscular contractions and the slick looseness of his well-stretched rectum. 
After another dozen thrusts only his anus remained tight, like a rubber band 
that was dragged up and down my penis. The friction it created was enough to 
make me insane. And to think that only a matter of six hours earlier I had 
been infatuated with a boy on an airplane. I had no more chance of getting 
into his bum than legally buying the Harbor Bridge and now I was six inches 
inside a beautiful Thai boy with the full cooperation not only of his 
parents but the entire village. What was the world coming to? 

My testicles tightened even further in anticipation of impending release. I 
could not slow down and stopping was completely out of the question. Instead I 
sped up, spending the last few seconds that remained to me, to plough his 
tight young bottom with all the energy I could muster. It was enough to 
bring both of us to the pinnacle in only a few deep jabs. The sounds of 
grunting startled me as much as the realization that Phan was in the throes of 
orgasm. It came on him quickly and he bucked against me wildly. Later Chris 
would explain that he sought even greater joy at the end by increasing the 
pressure of my penis into his still immature prostate gland. It was that 
last sudden spasm that caused me to lose control. I stuffed all seven hard 
inches of my throbbing penis into him and ejaculated.

I felt my semen exploding into the shuddering boy, fulfilling a sacred and 
ancient ritual that transcends cultures. Greeks had done the same to their 
boys and made them the partners of the gods. Man-boy love the highest form 
of love. It held a similar place in Arab culture and the Pacific Islanders 
adopted it as a societal norm. Men throughout history have repeated the same 
rite of initiation with boys, both before and right after the onset of 
puberty. It was not that a boy like Phan was a substitute for a woman--what 
I had experienced and what those other men understood, was that a higher 
form of pleasure existed than that which served to perpetuate the species. 
It was an exquisite joy that contradicted nature's intentions for other 
species. Reproduction was replaced by gratification of the senses and the 
union of two bodies. 

My ejaculation seemed to go on and on forever until my testicles ached and I 
was emptied. I fell back exhausted, feeling my limp organ slide out of 
Phan's semen-filled rectum. I moaned with joy, knowing the true meaning of 
sexual satisfaction as I hugged Phan's equally sweat-soaked body to mine. In 
the last fifteen minutes I had discovered one thing-- love-making to a boy 
in a hut in Thailand that did not have the benefit of air conditioning, was 
very hot work. It was also the most fun I had ever had. I knew that I would 
come back again and again to Thailand if boys like Phan continued to be 
available and willing lovers.



++++++++++++++++++++ Sydney, October 1994++++++++++++++++



 The sun shone brilliantly and the water sparkled on Sydney Harbour. A fleet 
of thirty or more yachts rounded the point as the waiter took our order. 
Doyle's was busy every day, but late on Wednesday, nearly an hour after the 
regular lunchtime crowd had disappeared only the three of us and a few 
Sydney dowagers remained to dine on the terrace. I sipped my wine. It was 
not exceptional but it was quite good, as most Hunter Valley wines usually 
are. My eyes drifted from Tricia to Alex and back again. I tried to imagine 
the night that Tristan had been conceived and I began to smile. Each of them 
still in their teens, with partners of the same sex, creating the perfect 
boy I called Tristan Alexander Gordon with a meat baster. Tricia touched my 
arm to get my attention. 

"Now you're starting to become one of the family, we thought you should meet 
Alex, Peter." I nodded. 

"Tristan is a wonderful boy," I began awkwardly. "You're a lucky man to have 
him as a son, Alex."

"My son is something else again, isn't he," Alex agreed. "It's a little hard 
to think of him as my son, of course, for reasons I understand Chris has 
already told you about." 

Tricia laughed. "Let's be up-front about this, okay. Alex is still Tag's 
father even though he is gay and has responsibilities of his own. Alex has 
largely turned Tag's upbringing over to Hannah and me. And I'm quite sure that 
Alex realizes that your interest in Tag is not entirely what you might call 
platonic. I thought it was time the two of you met given that you have a 
shared interest in Tag's welfare. Why don't you tell Alex how you really 
feel about Tag?" 

I nodded. There was no simple or easy way to admit the truth to another 
person. "Okay. The truth is,... the truth is I'm falling in love him," I 
blurted out awkwardly. 

Alex smiled and glanced at Tricia who nodded back at him. "Lucky Tag," he 
replied. "I always wondered if being gay would run in the family given the 
tock. However, there's a much better explanation in his case than the fact 
that his father and mother are homosexual."

"Alex," Tricia said softly, "Maybe it's time Peter knew what you're alluding 
to. He has to find out sooner or later." 

Alex nodded. His fingers clasped under his chin thoughtfully. He waited for 
several long seconds before he answered. 

"Three years ago I gave Tag his annual physical. He was just about seven if 
I remember. His testicles still had not descended. That is not all that 
unusual in itself. You probably know that a boy's testicles generally 
descend into the scrotum by the time he's born or shortly afterwards, but 
that's not always the case. In fact we've been seeing the problem more 
frequently during the last decade. No one quite understands why the increase 
is occurring. Maybe its the chemicals being used in food. That's what I 
think but anyway, I'm getting off the subject." 

He took a deep breath and glanced at Tricia for added support. I nodded for 
him to continue and took another drink of the chardonay, savoring the taste as 
much as the pale crystal liquid, which was beautiful in itself. 

"It's a fairly simple procedure to bring the testicles down the inguinal 
canals and secure them in the scrotum. I assisted in Tag's operation myself. 
Even for a seven year old his testicles were extremely small. When that 
happens it is not unusual to find other things,... so I examined him 
further. Do you know anything about Klinefelter's Syndrome?" 

Only a parent or a lover can know the fear I felt at that moment. I had no 
idea what Alex was talking about although the gravity of the situation was 
obvious to me. I needed no medical words to describe it. Something was 
terribly wrong with the boy I loved. I shook my head quickly.

"Klinefelter's Syndrome affects about one boy in a thousand." Alex sighed 
loudly. His fingers caressed his wine glass, drawing lines through the 
glistening droplets of condensation on the sides. "It's caused by a 
chromosomal aberration. Instead of the normal XY chromosome that you or I 
have, there is an additional X, that is, Tag has an XXY."

I made direct eye contact with Alex. "I'm sorry. My high school years in 
biology were pretty much wasted. I was more interested in mathematics. 
You'll have to remind me which is which. Is X the male or female one?"

"It's the female one! One effect of having an extra X is that it produces some 
female-like attributes in the male," Alex explained carefully. "There are 
other complications but the main problem is that affected males are sterile." 

I swallowed, half-closed my eyes against the glare and mindlessly watched 
the sailboats tacking towards the bridge. Tristan was sterile! He had female-
like attributes! I loved him! Nothing would ever change that!

 "There's no treatment, is there?" I asked nervously. "It's not something 
you could operate on to fix, is it?"

Tricia shook her head. "It can't be cured. But Peter, you have to understand 
that it won't kill him or anything like that. In a lot of ways, Tag is very 
lucky. He'll have some problems, however,... touch wood, so far he's okay."

"Let me explain, Peter," Alex interrupted. "During early childhood there are 
few visible indicators that a boy suffers from Klinefelter's Syndrome. I had 
no idea that Tag had it until I saw the size of his testicles. His condition 
is not severe. In some cases there can be emotional and intellectual 
problems. He's really a lucky boy in that respect." 

I was thinking quickly, trying hard to remember more about Tristan's 
problems at school. It sounded as though his so-called learning difficulties 
were really a by-product of a much deeper problem. I had presumed that the his 
inability to concentrate on some things was part of a complex and very 
selective attention disorder called pre-teen boredom. I knew him to be a 
very intelligent boy who needed a constant challenge. 

"The primary indication is usually the size of a boy's testicles," Alex 
explained carefully. "They are almost always very small and often are 
undescended like Tag's were."

"Is that the reason why Tristan is going to be sterile? Because his 
testicles are too small?" I asked. "Isn't there some kind of hormone he can 
take to make them bigger?"

"The size isn't the real problem," Alex explained. "The internal structure 
of the testes are affected so that a boy will be unable to produce sperm or 
testosterone in significant quantities. Hormones won't change that. You 
can't put back what he doesn't have. It was necessary for Tag to have surgical 
treatment to lower his testes to reduce the chances of cancer when he's 
older. If they had stayed where they were there could be serious consequences." 

The waiter stopped by the table and delivered our seafood salads and some 
crusty French bread. We were quiet as we began to eat, although eating was not 
high on my priorities at the time.

"What else, Alex?" I asked glumly.

"I don't know how close you are to Tag but I'll assume that you're here now 
because you really do feel very strongly towards him," Alex said warmly. He 
grinned as he continued. "You might have already noticed the size of his 
penis?" 

Tricia smiled slyly at me and raised her eyebrows with a mock rebuke should 
I dare to say yes. I was silent but both of them suspected that I was fully 
aware of the size, or lack thereof. However, if I was forced to tell the 
truth, the only knowledge I had of Tristan's private parts was what I had 
discovered through his shorts when we wrestled playfully on the living room 
floor. From the occasional grab of his boy-parts, I would have to admit that 
he was considerably smaller than Phan had been. However, that was the limit
of my experience.

"As you might expect," Alex said innocuously, "a boy's penile development is 
also affected with sizes typically in the lower quartile range. For Tristan, 
that means that he will very lucky to get much beyond a hundred millimeters, 
about the size of your forefinger Peter. I don't mean to embarrass you but 
we are all pretty open about sex in this family."

I shrugged. "You're not embarrassing me, Alex."

"Luckily for both of you, he'll be quite capable of having erections. You 
might have already noticed that he gets stiff at about the same frequency as 
any boy his age. Impotence is not normally a problem for boys with or 
without an extra X chromosome," he teased light-heartedly. "It just means
he has a tiny dick!" 

Tricia placed her knife and fork on the table and watched me. She could see my 
pain, the deep sadness that I felt for her son was gnawing at me until I 
felt sick. 

"Peter, I want you to realize that we're telling you this because of how you 
feel about Tag. You have to know what will happen as he grows up." 

Alex nodded in agreement. "Like I said, Tag will not have enough male hormones 
to develop normally. Delayed puberty is observed in just about every boy 
with Klinefelter's. Sometime before he is fifteen Tag should undergo prolonged  
of additional hormones. He will have to take several gonatropins,... 
testosterone among other hormones to make sure that his physical and emotional 
development approaches something like that of a normal boy."

I forked my salad absently. Eating was no longer of interest. I wanted to hold 
Tristan and tell I loved him, no matter what! Tricia smiled at my miserable 
expression. 

"Don't worry, Peter. It isn't all bad news. From what Alex and Hannah tell me, 
there are certain advantages for a boylover. Isn't that true, Alex?" Alex 
grinned. 

"What Tricia is referring to is the fact that K-S boys generally are fully 
capable of sexual activity at the usual age. Still, you need to realize that 
Tag probably won't experience ejaculation until late adolescence and then 
his emissions will tend to be erratic and of low quantity. He'll be very 
much a boy well into his mid-to-late teens. That's the good news."

"It gets worse?" I demanded. The perfect boy was still perfect in my eyes. 
Nothing would ever change that. I loved him too much to think otherwise.

"Okay!" Alex acknowledged. "You want the bad news. Here goes. In some cases, 
hopefully not in Tag's case, the female physique becomes very pronounced in 
early adulthood. He may tend to have long legs for example. There is also a 
tendency towards enlarged breast development. I'll be watching him closely and 
we'll start hormonal treatment if we need to." 

I sighed inwardly. Breasts, long legs, inability to ejaculate until his late 
teens. "You said he was lucky, Tricia! God knows how you came up with that 
conclusion," I said angrily. 

"Oh but he is, Peter." Alex interrupted my outburst. "In a lot of cases, 
mental retardation occurs. Compared to the learning problems that are often 
found, Tag is well off. The special education program he is in now is really 
helping him to settle down. You've had a great influence on him as well. 
He's very fond of you, Peter, but then I guess you know that already." 

I smiled happily. "I'm very fond of him as well," I replied quietly.

Tricia laughed. "That's the understatement of the century. I'm not blind, 
Peter. And Chris is no fool as well. He said you were ideal for Tag. I agree 
with him."

"I,... I don't understand," I mumbled. 

Now Alex laughed. "There is one thing I haven't told you about K-S, Peter, and 
it's the most important thing for you. A boy's natural sexual orientation 
tends to be homosexual in the vast majority of cases. Although most parents go 
out of their way to try to make it otherwise, the fact is that it's a ten to 
one shot that Tag is going to be gay. If I was a betting man, I would make 
sure that he meets the right people as he grows up. You see, you and my son 
are made for each other. Your reputation precedes you, thanks to Chris. Tricia 
and I both know that you're a boy lover and we both happen to think that our 
son is a very lucky boy." 

I smiled. "I'm the lucky one. Tristan is,... well he's an incredibly wonderful 
kid."

"You're preaching to the converted, Peter," Tricia said. She lifted her wine 
glass. "To Tag Gordon and Peter Sayd!"

"You make it sound so romantic, Tricia," Alex laughed as our glasses 
clinked. "However, I have to say I agree. For some boys, and not just K-S 
boys, it's the best thing that ever happened to them. I'm sure it will be that 
way for Tag, too. I hope the two of you settle down together like I did with 
Chris. They were the best years of my life." 

I took a deep breath, still not believing my ears. Alex was talking as if I 
was expected to become Tristan's lover in the very near future. The idea, 
while very exciting and something that I would endorse wholeheartedly, was 
so far fetched that it sounded like a fantasy.

"Well, lets not rush this," Tricia added. "I'm not certain that I'm ready to 
see Tag move in with him. He's got several years to go before that happens."

"I was fifteen remember, Tricia. I started sleeping with Chris when I was just 
six or seven months older than Tag is right now." Alex winked at me 
meaningfully. "You might as well start getting used to the idea of Tag being 
his lover, because it won't be that long before it happens. Personally, I'd 
much rather have someone like Peter making love with my son than some 
pervert I don't know taking advantage of him." 

Tricia laughed. "You sound like Hannah, Alex. The way she talks Tag needs 
sex education right now because next week could be too late. I'm not sure I 
trust you to do it. It would be like putting Hannah in charge of making
the coffee."
                                                                      
I grinned. "You mean I would be biased if I talked to him about sexual 
orientation?" I asked lightly. "I don't want Tristan to be something he 
doesn't want to be, " I said honestly. "Tricia, you have to trust me. I 
would never do anything that he doesn't want. I want him to be gay but I would 
never hurt him. I want him to love me more than anything else. I want him to 
be happy." 

Alex nodded. He understood. He had been through a similar situation as 
Hannah came to accept and finally to appreciate her son needed an outlet for 
his emerging desires. 

"I'll take care of the sex talk sometime during the next few weeks for you 
Tricia," he offered. "As you know, I have first hand experience of the 
essentials." 

Tricia laughed. "At least he'd be safer with you than Chris. Heavens, poor Tag 
is surrounded by boylovers, isn't he?" 

Alex laughed with me. "There are worse things. Boylovers are special people, 
Trish. If you want Tag to be truly happy, believe me it would be the best 
thing that ever happened to him. It certainly was for me that's for sure. If 
it wasn't for Chris, God only knows what would have happened to me." 

I sipped my wine and took several bites of the salad. The yachts were 
running with spinnakers, their vivid iridescent colors making brilliant 
contrasts. I had the sudden thought that I was still in Thailand, except for 
the setting, of course. Tricia seemed to read my mind.

"My son is not some poor little Thai kid who has sex so his family can 
survive," Tricia answered after a long pause. "Do you get my point Peter?"

There was no point in my arguing with Tricia. How could I ever convince her 
that Tristan was very different. Now, my friendship with Phan seemed 
distant, so remote that I wondered whether I had ever really loved him. 
However, he had been the beneficiary of my affection, bringing an asset to the 
village that would assure them of continued riches. 

"Tricia," Alex began slowly, "there is one thing we haven't discussed yet 
and it's time we talked about it. Some time soon Tag's going to have to know 
that he has Klinefelter's."

"I know that, Alex. Sometimes I think he suspects that he's different to  
boys. He almost seemed to have forgotten about the operation until about a 
month ago when he asked about it. He wanted to know why his 'thing' was 
smaller than other boys. He asked if it was related to the time he was in 
hospital. I know I have to tell him. I guess I was hoping you would tell 
him. You are his doctor." 

Alex smiled. "You want my advice. Peter should take care of telling Tag 
about Klinefelter's. I've always been a bit of a coward. It will be hard for 
me to look him in the eye and tell him he is nearly as much a girl as he is 
a boy." 

I sighed and shook my head. "I couldn't tell him that. He's special to me 
because he's a very special type of boy. It's a deal, Alex. You tell him 
what he needs to know about sex, especially what happens when he has sex 
with a man and I'll do the rest." 

Tricia laughed. "I'm sure you will, Peter. I'm sure you will."


++++++++++++++++++++ Gosford, November 1994++++++++++++++++



I parked the car in the street and crossed the lawn to the front door. I was 
ten minutes early for my 'date' with Tristan--an early dinner at Benjamin's 
Seafood and a movie at the Cinemaplex in Gosford. I planned to have him home 
by nine o'clock so that he would be in bed early for a change. I was going 
to take him fishing on Saturday for the entire day. He needed to be well 
rested when I picked up early the next morning.

I had been to the house many times before to collect Tristan and take him 
out for the day, to dinner, or to a movie. On many occassions I had been 
invited to the house to have dinner with Hannah and Tricia and to spend 
long, wonderful hours getting to know the boy I loved on his own turf. By now, 
I was considered more than a family friend. In their own inimitable style, 
both Hannah and Tricia had let me know that I was both liked by them and could 
be trusted with Tristan. Thus it was in early September that my courtship 
began in earnest. We began to 'date', much as any normal couple would date 
during the early stages of romance. During the first few occassions we were 
alone together, nothing untoward occurred. Indeed, our friendship was 
perfectly chaste, although it was always openly affectionate. It seemed as 
if it would always be that way until two weeks ago when I finally got up the 
courage to hold his hand during the last half of the movie. Then, as I 
turned off the engine outside his house it seemed like the most natural 
thing in the world to kiss him. We had held hands like two young teenagers the 
entire way home from the theater. It was impossible for the night to end 
like that.

Sitting there, in the darkened car with Tristan only inches away from me, 
was a temptation that I could not dismiss again. I leaned towards him and my 
lips brushed his forehead. That was all it took to get my heart pounding 
feverishly. I was never more aware of his youth than I was at that moment. His 
eyes flickered uncertainly as he tried to evaluate what I had done. He had 
only been kissed by his mother, 'Aunt' Hannah, 'Uncle' Chris, and Alex 
before and yet, he felt an intense familiarity with me. He smiled shyly and 
looked deep into my eyes as we both breathed heavily.

I sensed the sudden warmth that flowed through his body by the moist heat of 
his hand that still lay within my grasp. I stroked his fingers reassuringly as 
I wondered what he felt inside. Did he feel the same surge of excitement, 
the growing desire, the same wonder of being in love as I did? Normally 
exuding confidence, I immediately became uncertain as Tristan's expression 
changed to bewilderment. He was frightened. I realized that I had gone too far 
with him and in my enthusiasm, had placed him at risk by kissing him in 
public.

While it did not matter to me that my 'date' was an eleven-year-old boy, until 
that night two weeks ago I was always careful to maintain a comfortable 
distance with him in public. My only goal was to enjoy Tristan for the child 
he was. At any time I could have successfully pressured him for a 
demonstration of his affection for me. Instead, I was patient, knowing that my 
time would eventually come and Tristan would be mine, all mine.

That I was accepted as Tristan's admirer and confidant became ever clearer 
in the weeks that followed my long conversation with his mother and father. As 
our friendship developed, he became even more affectionate and constantly 
demanded my attention with hugs and playful wrestling. Our physical contact, 
while on the surface appearing innocent, served to build our familiarity as 
well as keep my penis in a perpetual state of rigidity whenever I was at his 
house. Even the mere proximity of his perfect body was enough to fire my 
desire and send my heart into ecstasy and my shaft to the apex of erection.

When Tristan was around, my eyes never left him. My infatuation was not 
unnoticed by his mother and I often observed her sharing secret knowing smiles 
with Hannah as her son and I romped together on the carpet. 'Tristan and I', 
as she confided to me one day at the factory, 'were working out great'. It 
seemed to be a forgone conclusion that we would one day be lovers.



So given my closeness to the family, it was unusual that I did not go to the 
backdoor that Friday night as I normally did. Instead I chose the front 
door, and that set in motion a chain of events for which I will be ever 
grateful. Perhaps the events would have happened anyway, or in a slightly 
different way. Perhaps my decision to use the front door was arbitrary but 
maybe, as I chose to believe, it was fate that brought me there ten minutes 
early. The front door was open to allow the passage of air through the 
house. Only the screen door was closed. Before I had a chance to knock, 
Tristan ran swiftly across the hall, from the bathroom to his bedroom. 

I saw him for a second or two, no more. He was as naked as the day he was 
born. His lean body moved with surprising speed as he darted into his room. 
His blond hair was dark, wet, and tousled from his shower. In a few minutes it 
would be blow-dried and neatly brushed, but at that moment it was the 
essence of boyhood. Unruly and rebellious, his dark wet hair captured my 
attention even as my eyes frantically sought another much more intersting part 
of his anatomy. It was the first time that I had seen him naked and he was a 
joy to behold. I barely had time to glimpse that the boy actually had a 
penis between his slender legs before he was gone.

"Hi Tristan," I shouted as he disappeared behind his door.

I knew that he both saw and heard me. It would have been impossible for him to 
miss my silhouette framed in the doorway. I heard his bedroom door slam 
shut. "Hello! Anyone home?" I called out.

Hannah came to the door and smiled widely as she saw me behind the mesh of the 
screen door.

"Hi! I thought Tristan was going to let you in," she said as she unlatched the 
screen door and pushed it open for me to enter.

"He was in the bathroom. The little flasher just went into his room and left 
me standing out here," I laughed.

Hannah winked. "Well boys will be boys, won't they? Trish and I have always 
encouraged Tag to be relaxed about his body. So many parents raise their 
kids to be uptight about being naked and having sex. They're going to have sex 
anyway so they might as well start out by enjoying it and being open about 
it."

"It sounds like a good idea to me," I said agreeably.

"I've always felt that a boy should have fun while he can still take advantage 
of his youth," Hannah said playfully. "There's no point in wasting the best 
years of your life and you're never too young to start having fun."

"As young as Tristan?" I asked awkwardly. Hannah studied me with a sideways 
glance but said nothing. "Maybe it's a good idea for a boy to be a bit 
inhibited sometimes," I said flippantly. "Especially when there's a man like 
me around and the boy is as cute as Tristan."

Hannah looked at me again, more seriously this time, and shook her head as 
if she could not believe what I had said. her expression was not one of 
distaste, merely disbelief. I followed her into the hall and past Tristan's 
bedroom. His muffled voice bellowed 'hi', as I entered the living room. 

"You're early, Peter," Tricia observed with a glance at the clock on the 
mantle. "He'll only be a few minutes. He just got out of the shower a few 
seconds ago."

"He knows! Tag just gave him an eye-full on the way back to his bedroom," 
Hannah said with amusement from my reddening face as much as the boy's 
nudity in the house that he shared with two lesbians.

"I'm sure he did," Tricia said. "Tag's always been a little nudist, ever since 
he was a toddler." 

Her voice was not critical but it was often difficult to know when she was not 
being sarcastic. I had already discovered that Tristan had something of her 
dry sense of humor at times. Hannah stepped in to defend me and raise the 
stakes as she often did.

"Anyway, it's probably about time he started relaxing around Peter. It's 
been ten weeks, you know Trish. It's about time they became closer, don't 
you think? "

"I know, Hannah. I realize that you've been through this before with Alex 
but I'm not as liberated as you are. You know he's also a year younger and 
there's no need to rush into this. I've talked with him like you suggested." 
Tristan's mother smiled at me and slowly shook her head as if the outcome of 
her talk was inescapable. "Normally I can't get him in the shower for more 
than a minute or two, but when you're coming, he'll stay there for twenty or 
thirty minutes. I can't imagine why," Tricia teased. "One might even think 
he was in love with you the way he's constantly talking about Peter this and 
Peter that."

I sat on the couch directly across from the two women and grinned stupidly. 
I was certain that I loved Tristan but I had yet to tell anyone, not even 
Tristan, although his mother and father certainly suspected that my fondness 
for their son was already well past the stage of mere affection.

"So it sounds like I'm not the only one, then," I said meekly. I realized that 
I sounded lovesick but I could not help it. I was. "You two continually tell 
me that I'm always talking about him at work."

Until now, I had not observed any display of affection between them. This 
time, Hannah's arm drapped around Tricia's shoulders and gently stroked the 
side of her right breast. It was a clear sign that my own sexuality was 
accepted, just as I accepted the fact that they were lesbians.

"Trish has something she wants to tell you, Peter," Hannah began.

Tricia smiled and nodded. She was visibly embarrassed. "Well,... Peter I 
wanted to talk with you again about Tristan. You've been very good with him. 
I'm so glad that you haven't rushed him into things he doesn't understand yet. 
Anyway, I know how fond of him you've become the last month or so. I also know 
that my son is very attached to you.'

Hannah laughed. "What Trish means is that Tag's in love with you Peter. And 
unless I'm mistaken, the feeling is mutual."

Tricia nodded in agreement. "For some reason I thought it would take longer, I 
expected a year or something like that, but,... I guess there's no reason 
why it can't happen in ten weeks. Remember what I said about knowing when 
the time was right for him,... well to start becoming more involved with 
you. Because of well, you know, the K-S thing he's got, I think it's important 
that he takes it one step at a time. Just in case, well,.... he might not be 
gay."

Clearly one person besides me was contemplating Tristan losing his virginity 
in the forseeable future. It was a thought that often entered my mind but I 
intended to do nothing about it until the time was right. If I loved him and 
he loved me, did it really matter when we chose to take that first step 
together to become lovers. 

But there was a question of far greater importance that was never far from 
my mind. When that blessed moment finally arrived, I wondered whether we would 
know if it was right or wrong. It was certainly wrong by social standards 
which deemed sex between a man and a boy to be evil. But I could not see 
myself as depraved or immoral by simply loving an eleven-year-old boy when the 
attraction between us was so strong. It was natural even if it did not conform 
to the laws of Australia.

"Oh!" I swallowed. "I don't know how long it's supposed to take. I think it 
just happens when it happens. I've been in love with him from the first day."

"She means it's about time you started having sex with Tag," Hannah 
interrupted with a wicked smile. 

"That's not what I mean," Tricia denied hotly. "Well,... I suppose it is. 
Tag is awfully fond of you and I fully realize that it's probably only natural 
for him to want to have sex with you. I expect that the feeling is mutual?" 
she added with raised eyebrows.

"I love him, if that's what you mean? Of course I want to make love to him," I 
said simply. "I would be crazy if I didn't want to have sex with him . But I 
want him to love me back before anything like that happens."

"I think he does only he may not realize it yet. Tag told me that he felt very 
lonely whenever he wasn't with you. For what it's worth, he was very upset 
when you went to Melbourne last weekend with Hannah."

"I'm glad I wasn't the only one who was sad," I admitted honestly. "I missed 
him too."

I breathed out and sighed, knowing that I was again sounding too much like a 
love-sick teenager. Sometimes I wanted to find the words to tell Tristan 
that I lived for him and that I loved him so much that my heart hurt every 
time I left him. But it's hard to tell an eleven-year-old boy that a man who 
was old enough to be his father was in love with him. 

"What Trish is trying to say," Hannah intervened," Is that it's really okay 
with us if you and Tag have sex."

Now it was Tricia's turn to blush. Her embarassment turned her face a 
scarlet hue as I grinned like a cheshire cat. "I don't mean going all the 
way,... you know what I mean, Peter! But,... well getting to know him 
better, uh,... I guess I mean playing with his cock and that sort of thing, 
but, well nothing that could hurt him."

I grinned still wider. "I think I know what you mean, Tricia. I really love 
him a lot. I think you know that I could never do anything to hurt him."

"Never?" Hannah teased slyly. "Come on, Peter. You really don't expect me to 
believe that do you? The way Alex tells it, it hurts when a boy goes all the 
way, especially with a man. And you will want to go all the way with Tag 
sooner or later, won't you?"

I shrugged and pretended to be nonchalant as I concealed my desire. "I 
s'pose so. There's no rush for that. Tristan and I have a lot of fun just 
being together. I don't think that the idea of sex, let alone having sex 
with me, has even entered his head yet. There is no rush to start either."

Tricia smiled her Mona Lisa smile. It was the all-knowing smile of a mother 
who knew from long experience with her son, exactly what he thought and felt.

"Don't be too sure of that, Peter," she said absently. 

Her voice was quiet and conveyed an ambiguity that suggested that Tristan 
was interested in the idea of sex, although whether I was to be the intended 
beneficiary of his desire in the near future, it was impossible to tell. It 
was as if she did not want Tristan to hear as he bounced into the room. He 
dropped onto the couch next to me and gave me his 'hello' grin. Words were 
almost always unnecessary to convey his true feelings. I could read his face 
like a book. He beamed at me as his day suddenly became wonderful, much as 
mine had improved as soon as I saw him in the hallway. His leg brushed against 
mine as he settled back in the cushions and stayed there with a firm warm 
pressure. I was not about to let him escape so easily.

"Hi Tristan," I said. "Have you taken up streaking since I was here last?"

"Huh? What's streaking?" Tristan asked sweetly.

"It's a 60's joke, Tag," Hannah laughed. "Back then people would run in public 
without clothes on and try not to get caught, They used to streak for the heck 
of it."

"That's crazy!" he giggled.

"Crazy, but it's true," I added. "I didn't streak myself but it happened a lot 
at the uni when I was a student. It looked like a lot of fun if you enjoyed 
taking your clothes off with other people around."

"Where are you guys going tonight?" Tricia asked. "Not streaking through 
Gosford I hope.".

"We're going to Benjamin's. Then I thought we'd go to the movies," I replied.

"I want to see WaterWorld, Mum," Tristan announced. "Can we? Please?" 

"Don't you think he's a bit too young for all that violence?" Tricia asked 
as she glanced at me meaningfully.

It was a test and we both knew it. How responsible was I going to be if I 
was entrusted with Tristan's welfare? It was always easier to give into him 
and accept his appreciative hug, than to thwart his plans and have him 
moody, even if it did last only a few minutes. I settled for a compromise.

"I haven't seen it yet, but I've heard that it's very good. I don't know about 
the violence. I think we'll wait until I've had a chance to see it myself, 
Tristan. If it isn't too violent, then maybe all four of us can go."

Tristan rolled his eyes like a normal eleven-year-old boy and snorted with 
exaggerated disgust. However, his outrage aside, it was the right answer, at 
least as far as Tricia was concerned. Her sense of right and wrong was 
fascinating. At one moment she had suggested that it was my responsibility 
to introduce her young son to sex, and in the next breath she was worried that 
a movie might have too much violence for him. But I could also understand 
her fears at the same time as I appreciated her progressive attitude to my 
relationship with Tristan. Sex was a part of nature, and an essential part 
of being alive. That Tristan was gay and his sexual initiation would 
probably occur with a grown man was neither right nor wrong, it was simply how 
it was going to be for her son and she had come to accept it long before I 
arrived on the scene. Her only true fear was that I did not cause him any 
distress.

"How about the Indian in the Closet, Tiger?" I suggested as I thought about 
bringing Tristan out of the closet to meet my 'Indian'.

"Aw come on, Peter! That's for little kids," he groaned as he stood up.

At full height, his head was no higher than the top of mine when I was seated. 
It made me very conscious of his tender age. Although his childhood was fast 
disappearing, he was still in the precious-boy stage. Tricia was right--
there probably was too much violence for him, but then he was also too young 
for the emotional ties that were forming between us.

He reached for my hand and pulled me up by leaning over backwards to lever 
me out of the couch. "Well, let's get a move on, then!" he added brusquely but 
lightheartedly. "I'm starving. Bye Mum! Bye Hannah!" 

Tristan grinned cheekily. I was hungry as well, but not for food. I glanced at 
his mother, still uncertain about her earlier suggestion that Tristan and I 
become better acquainted. Sex, even in its simplest form, with her eleven-
year-old son suddenly appeared to be more than a remote possibility. I 
sensed mischief in the air as the urchin squeezed my hand tightly.

Tricia smiled at me and then glanced uneasily at her son. Her intended message 
was clear to me if not to Tristan. "Bye Tag-honey. Have a good time," she said 
lightly.

Hannah smirked wickedly. "I'm sure there's more than just an Indian in the 
closet for the two of you to look at. You two boys have lots of fun together," 
she added obscurely as Tristan and I started for the doorway. 

Her parting comment was less than obscure. In fact it was depraved.