PUBERTY BLUES, by Ganymede

    PART 5


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 5






Tristan snoozed from just outside Coffs Harbour, awakening only as I shook
 him a few kilometers north of the city. The happy 
smile he gave me was worth every second of the long drive I had that day.

We arrived much later than I had planned. Dinner had already been served and 
the guests were finishing their meals by the time Tristan and I checked in. 
Through the glazed door we could see the plates being cleared away as the last 
few stragglers ambled out of the dining room on their way to other 
destinations. Anna Broadley expected us so there really was no need to explain 
Tristan's presence. However, I told her that his mother was going through 
prolonged business difficulties and that he needed a holiday.

Tristan hung back quietly, his head down as he scuffed his feet on the rug. To 
me, his silence and dejected shoulders were depressing evidence of the anguish 
of a pre-teen boy who was suffering emotional turbulence. One look at 
Tristan's sombre expression was enough to convince her that he was a 
troubled boy, although the true source of his problem was entirely different 
to the tale I told. Tristan, with his beautiful face and slender, young- boy's 
body naturally appealed to her maternal instinct and she agreed with me that 
he needed to get away from the situation at home.

At that point, Tristan gave a loud sigh that conveyed all the sadness in the 
world. He was quickly turning into a fine little actor. Anna Broadley smiled 
broadly. If she had not been on the other side of the check-in counter she 
would have hugged the little wretch. She handed over the key as she 
continued to smile innocuously. In return, Tristan gave her a shy, disarming 
smile that brought dimples to the corners of his mouth. It melted her heart 
and the ingratiating rascal had her fawning all over him. Tristan now had an 
additional admirer.

Carrying just my overnight bag and a case with Tristan's clothes, we 
followed her directions to our room. Down the hall, around the corner, and 
up the stairs to the third room on the right. We stopped before a glossy 
blue door. Tristan followed me inside and I closed the door behind me and 
put the chain in place. Inside, I was not surprised. After all, Chris had 
prepared me for my stay at Jacaranda House the previous evening. But Tristan's 
mouth dropped open in awe. For him, the room was out-of-this-world with its 
tasteful 'House-and- Garden' Colonial decor. He gazed around him, entranced by 
the plethora of dark cedar furniture and traditional decorations before 
hesitantly approaching the huge bed.

It was an old bed with ponderous carved cedar legs. With two mattresses on 
an already high frame, the top of the bed was about the same height at 
Tristan's crotch. It was covered by an old-fashioned lace cover, itself 
worth many hundreds of dollars and far more elaborate than the gaily decorated 
young-boy cover that he had grown up with. Tristan leaned back against the bed 
and smiled at me. We were alone again and no longer in the tight confines of 
the car.

My mind immediately turned to unfinished business, or if it was finished, then 
starting again from scratch. The strange thing was that just the five 
minutes I had spent talking with Anna Broadley, had so interrupted our 
closeness, that I had felt distanced from the beautiful young boy who in 
actuality, stood no further than two feet away from me at any time during 
the conversation. And now, while physical distance was even less, the 
separation continued. I resented her intrusion and resisted the possibility 
than any one besides myself and his mother, could show any interest in, let 
alone affection, for Tristan. I wanted him totally for myself. As I watched 
him I sensed that my feelings were not unique. I wondered whether he was as 
reluctant to share me as I was to share him.

"Are your hungry, Tristan?" I asked.

Tristan shrugged and continued to hold my eyes. His hand brushed his 
forehead to sweep away long strands of hair. He moistened his lips, sucking 
the bottom lip in first, and then deliberately wetting the upper lip with 
his tongue.

"She said she'd make dinner for us whenever we're ready," he answered 
absently. His mind was a long distance from food but I could not determine 
what held his attention. "I guess I'm hungry," he added.

"We have time for a shower. You can put some of your new P-B clothes on for 
dinner if you'd like?" I suggested. "Or if you're really hungry, I say we go 
like this."

"If you want," Tristan said obliquely. "I don't care."

"What do you want to do?" I asked. I wondered what was bothering him. 
Clearly something important was on his mind. However, I had no experience with 
pouting eleven-year-old boys and few ideas on how one got through to them when 
they carried on like this.

"Whatever! We can go eat if you want, Peter" he muttered. His eyes narrowed as 
he brooded.

"Why are you angry, Tag?" I continued patiently. "Is it something I said or 
something I did?"

"No! I'm not angry!" he said sulkily. "Don't worry about me, okay!"

"Well what's the problem then, Tag?" I asked. "You're mad about something? Are 
you worried about something I said? Did I say something to her that you didn't 
like?"

"It's not something you said, okay! And you didn't do anything, got it?" 
Tristan glowered. His lips compressed into a thin, hard line. His bad mood was 
very much out of character that it left me astounded.

"Then what's bugging you, Tristan?" I asked seriously. 

Tristan shrugged again. "There's nothing bugging me. You wouldn't understand 
if I told you, Peter."

His emphasis on my name was unmistakable but then my own use of his name, 
without recourse to the diminuitive form which I had been using for several 
months now, was also unmistakable. I tried to relief the tension that seemed 
to arc between us like positive and negative charges seeking to collide. I 
took a deep breath as I wondered what was bothering him.

"Try me, Tag," I suggested lightly.

"If you must know,... okay, it's being here with you. I feel like I 
shouldn't do it but I want to be with you. I want us to be lovers like my 
mum said we could be."

"We can be lovers, Tag," I sighed.

"I won't ever be able to go back to seeing you on weekends after this," 
Tristan said mournfully. "Mum better let me live with you otherwise,... 
well, I don't know what I'll do."

I stepped forward and placed both of my hands on Tristan's thin, bony 
shoulders. There was little meat on his lean body and what there was felt like 
one-hundred percent muscle. My libido got the better of me at a time when 
virtuosity was in order. Still, it worked.

"We can only try, Tag! If she says no, we'll still be able to see each other 
on the weekend."

"I know, but it isn't the same," Tristan whined.

"You know something? I don't know why but I'm absolutely positive that your 
mum will agree to you moving in with me," I said.

If Tristan asked why I was so confident I could not have told him the basis 
for my statement, but inside I was certain. Perhaps it was because I have 
become so accustomed to understanding risk and uncertainty, perhaps because 
during my discussions with Tricia, she had given me ample reason to believe 
that she was on my side, but I expected her not to be averse to my, our, 
proposition. I changed the subject.

"I still haven't told you what a beautiful, sexy boy you are today, have I?" I 
said truthly. "Because you are, Tag. God, I want to make love to you. Tristan, 
I love you so much. You are one incredibly sexy kid, you know."

"You sound like my Mum," Tristan admitted. "Do you mean it, Peter? Do you 
really think I'm sexy, even with this dumb Klinefelter's thing I have."

"Of course I mean it," I said plaintively. "It's part of why I find you so 
sexy, you dodo! Don't you understand? I love you because you're not like other 
boys. I love you the way you are, tiny dick and all."

"You don't have to lie to me to get me to do it," Tristan stated flatly. His 
eyes met mine wantonly expressing his emerging attraction to his own sex. Pure 
lust looked steadily back at him.

"Who's lying?" I teased. "I just want to fuck you."

"I'll do it whenever you want, just like I said. If you wanna do IT, you know, 
fuck me, then just say so. You can do it right now, if you want to."

"I think you're the most wonderful boy in the world," I said reassuringly. I 
paused and breathed out slowly. I nodded and caressed Tristan's shoulders 
lovingly. I glanced at my watch as I wondered whether we had the time to do 
what was rushing towards us. "And yes I want to fuck you," I added lewdly. 
"I want to fuck you so much I can barely stand it."

"Okay," Tristan smirked cheekily. "Then what are you waiting for. Just do 
IT, Peter."



That evening I came to appreciate the fact that a man and a boy can make 
love at the same time as they have great sex together. I also realized that 
while intercourse would not be the most important part of our relationship, it 
would be the tie that bound us into an inseparable entity. For those readers 
who think that a sexual relationship between a man and a boy is repugnant, I 
suggest that you do not know what you are talking about. And for those 
people who think that an eleven-year-old boy is too immature to both consent 
to, and enjoy such a relationship, I can only say that you are wrong. With 
Tristan, sex was for pure unadulterated fun, considerably more fun than I have 
had with another person, male or female.

While he was still too young to experience the ultimate delight of 
ejaculation, Tristan's enjoyment of the physical act of anal intercourse was 
every bit as great as my own pleasure once he had recovered from the initial 
pain of my penetration. However, what made that first evening even more 
memorable was that we made love to each other.



He stood passively before me, yielding to my embrace with diffident casualness 
but with a teasing smile that invited me to undress up. Then as I removed 
his clothes he gradually became excited. Finally he was naked and I gazed at 
his splendid body with overwhelming awe. He was so different to Phan that I 
was speechless. Other than his undersized genitalia, there was no flaw on 
his lithe form. His young boy's body was divine perfection and I worshipped 
his immaculate flesh with impure thoughts. He was unblemished by even the 
faintest trace of body hair, so soft and smooth that it was almost immoral 
to touch him. But I did touch him. I gently stroked his flat, tanned chest and 
belly, eased my fingers down to encroach on his private region, then finally 
took possession of his tiny boy-treasure. At my first grazing caress, the 
nubile boy surged into my arms and we embraced. The longing which had 
existed since earlier in the afternoon and had never been fully satisfied 
poured out of us. Naked Tristan leaped into my arms. I held him tightly, 
cradling his splendid body in my arms. I wanted to be inside him again more 
than I could stand. It was his indecent grin that provided the last straw.

I dumped him back on the bed, standing over him in a threatening posture as 
I clumsily fumbled with my belt buckle and opened my zipper. His grin 
remained, widening as my sex organs came into view. I undressed completely, 
dropping my clothes onto his by the foot of the bed. His prurient penis 
matched my own for stiffness, if not for size. And then I was naked as well 
and only one thing remained to be done. Hurriedly I picked up the overnight 
bag and ransacked it as I searched for the suntan oil. It would work as it had 
worked in the car but I would need to get something else before too long. He 
needed the added slipperiness of a proper lubricant.

My cock glistened with the thick sheen of oil. It pulsed hungrily as I came 
back to the bed and I gazed down at the naked boy stretched out before me. 
There was no need to invent a special position for this time. I took him 
naturally, in the position which was easiest for me. I grasped his ankles 
and pulled him towards me, lifting his feet up as he came down the bed. As his 
buttocks reached the end of bed I pulled him over the bottom rail, and then 
shoved his feet back to his shoulders. His bottom was lifted up onto the 
delicately patterned lace cover that had been dragged with him over the 
brown cedar rail and his cheeks parted to reveal the inside of his crack. 
His little dark anus winked at me invitingly. It had tightened up considerably 
since I had last seen it.

Getting my penis inside Tristan was more enjoyable than in the car because I 
could watch the expressions change on his face. At first there was uncertainty 
and reluctance as my cock poised at his threshold and tentatively advanced 
to meet his dimpled opening. It changed as my glans began to squeeze inside, 
switching between pain and eagerness as he twitched uncomfortably. The 
suffering was still no more than a sharp twinge at this stage compared to what 
came next. Even before the flared head penetrated, his face contorted as he 
winced in pain. I pushed against him forcefully and he pushed down. Tears 
formed quickly in his eyes as agony descended. I ached to be inside him and 
I kept up a relentless pressure. Tristan's distress peaked and then the 
torture was over even as I stopped pushing forward. The head was just inside 
his anus and he needed a break.

"God it hurts," Tristan complained.

"It's worse than in the car, isn't it? You feel so tight back here. Try to 
relax, Tristan."

"Yeah it's a lot worse! I'm trying real hard to relax the way Alex told me, 
but you put it in quicker this time. I can feel his head in me already," he 
added.

He was right. I had penetrated him quicker than in the car, but I was 
hungry. I paused, letting Tristan's body accept mine before I dared to go 
further. I had no desire to hurt him. He nodded after a few minutes had 
passed. He was ready to continue.

"Okay?" I queried. "Are you sure you want me to try again?"

Tristan nodded in assent. He wanted only what I wanted. We worked together, 
a team of man and boy seeking to accomplish what appeared impossible at 
first glance. I entered inch by inch as Tristan squeezed down in his bowel and 
forced his anus down the length of my thick shaft. We stopped only when five 
inches were deep inside his body. Five wonderful inches of his hot rectum 
locked on my cock and squeezed it like a vise. He felt full, so full of my 
engorged, throbbing penis that it did not seem possible for me to stuff any 
more inside him. And yet Tristan continued to work his sphincter muscles, 
shoving his rump against me as I kept up the pressure by pushing my pelvis 
forward. Miraculously, another inch disappeared into his anus. Enough was 
enough, I decided. I backed away, pulling Tristan's compliant body with me 
until my cock was released from the tortured constriction offered by his 
bowel. 

"Oh God," he moaned.

So low and stressed was his voice that I thought that I had caused him 
grievous injury. Tristan's head shook wildly, sending his long locks across 
his face as he shuddered.

"Are you okay?" I asked. "

"Just do it!" he begged urgently. "Please!"

I pushed back into his enclosing heat, all the way back inside him, back 
into the succulent depths of his rectum until we were one being again. Like 
that, joined so closely by penis and bowel, I felt very close to him. He was 
the extension of my body, a part of my penis that existed only when I was 
fully inside him. I could go no further. In one single thrust I had achieved 
the impossible of inserting seven hard thick inches of man-cock into the ass 
of a slender eleven-year-old boy. Being inside Tristan felt unbelievably good, 
or rather his body felt as though its sole purpose was to be a receptacle 
for mine, ultimately for my seed.

"Oh God, Peter, I can't stand it," he groaned again. "Do IT!"

He felt fabulously hot and wet inside and my penis made a squelching sound 
as it bottomed out. I felt the wetness oozing between us. Most of the fluid 
inside his young body was my semen but some may have come from deeper within 
him. It coated my penis and escaped the seal of his well-stretched anus. The 
sweet aroma of boy-funk drifted out from between our bodies. I inhaled the 
musty smell of forbidden love and glanced down between us as I withdrew my 
penis until only the glans remained captured inside him. My shaft glistened 
under the light from the ornate candelabra above us. It was streaked with 
the yellowish fluids that I had placed in the void of Tristan's rectum.

As I gazed at his contracted genitals and little anus surrounding my penis, 
I wondered how his body could accommodate my huge organ. His pelvis and 
waist were so narrow that it defied all logic. My penis was like a wedge 
that had been driven into his living flesh. His anus was nothing more than a 
pale, thin lip that was stretched tightly around a thick pole. I felt 
Tristan's bowel spasm, an involuntary shudder as he farted wetly. His gas 
escaped between us, squirting my groin with the fluid we had made together. 
Some trickled between his cheeks and stained the white lace cover under him. 
Gently I slid back inside him, floating on the slicked, oily flesh of his 
rectum until the thickness at the base of my penis prevented further progress.

I pumped into him with deliberate long thrusts that pulled my penis almost 
free of him before slamming back into his welcoming heat . Tristan squeezed on 
my shaft, holding me captive until I jerked free. Again and again, ten or 
twelve thrusts in total before he lost control. Each thrust loosened him 
further and brought him closer to the precipice. He grunted and spasmed with 
the throes of imminent orgasm. His mouth opened and he panted for air as his 
eyes closed tightly. I felt his body shuddering uncontrollably as his 
sphincter clamped and released again and again, like a seizure that sent a 
trembling paroxysm from his body directly into mine.

I stopped myself only seconds before I climaxed as well. With my cock deep 
inside his young body, I could feel his agony. Tristan was gasping for air and 
there was little I could do to help. I stayed absolutely still, afraid to 
provide even the slightest stimulation to either of us, wishing to cause him 
no further distress, or to produce release for myself. His torment lasted 
nearly a full minute before he slumped back on the bed, physically drained and 
unable to do anything beyond open his eyes, look up at me, and give me a 
delightful but very tired smile.

His penis was smaller than I had ever seen it. Tag-junior was not only limp 
but had partially retracted into his groin as if to seek protection and his 
shrivelled up ball-sac made it appear even smaller. The tip of his tiny sex 
organ was dry, not even the slightest trace of fluid had been released despite 
the intensity of his orgasm. I gazed at him in sincere affection, still not 
believing that I had discovered this wonder of wonders in the as a direct 
result of a chance meeting with his uncle in Thailand. My youthful lover was 
barely male but he was more than enough to satisfy my unnatural lust for 
beautiful, prepubescent boys.

I do not remember how long we stayed there, breathing, gazing, absorbing the 
intimacy of two lovers united together, but it was delightful to watch his 
slow recovery. Then in the most natural and unfeigned gesture, Tristan's hands 
weakly reached up for my neck and he pulled me forward over him. His lips 
touched mine. Taking the initiative, my tongue pushed into his mouth just 
far enough for him to sense the possibilities that awaited us. At least for 
now, we were finished. We parted and I felt strange, barely recognizing my 
spontaneous kiss less as a candid expression of my affection than as a delayed 
response to my deep-seated appreciation for the prize of his virginity. 
Until that moment I thought that I loved Tristan but with sexual union came 
impulsive and instinctive knowledge that it was entirely right for us to be 
joined together. I was in deeply in love with Tristan.

As he seemed to have little intention of getting up, I lovingly scooped my 
hands under his back and levered him upwards. His legs automatically locked 
around my pelvis as his arms came to meet behind my back. Carefully I lifted 
him and with my penis still within his rectum, carried him into the 
adjoining bathroom. The feat that followed was also something of a miracle, 
not only because I continued to fuck Tristan while I was standing up and he 
orgasmed again within a few minutes, but because I had never washed another 
body while my cock was still inside it.

Beyond the immediate attractions of the smooth, hairless skin and slender body 
of an eleven-year-old boy, there was another quality that dawned upon me as 
I stepped under the shower with Tristan still wrapped around my body. 
Seventy pounds of boy offered particular advantages over a boy like Phan who 
weighed in at least eighty-five pounds. Tristan's weight, while noticeable, 
was not that much of an encumbrance to make me put him down. Instead, I 
bounced him up and down, moving his abdomen on my still-erect cock. Positioned 
like that, I had to be very careful to restrict my upward thrust to less 
than five inches. More than that, my shaft would be yanked free and it would 
be difficult to both support him and reinsert it at the same time.

Now, not only did my penis slide inside him with consummate ease, his slick, 
relaxed rectum exerted increasingly infrequent attempts to expel the 
invader. More often than not, his muscular contractions tried to draw me in 
deeper. While our position prevented me from going the full depth, enough 
was enough and I settled for the five or six inches he could take without 
difficulty. He was perfectly content to let me fuck him, he was too 
exhausted to do anything to stop me even if he wanted to.

After only a few minutes his rectum defied all logic and loosened even 
further. The slackness inside him was awe-inspiring. He was wet and juicy, and 
wonderfully soft as I probed into his bowel. His rectal lining, already sloppy 
with the slimy juice of my earlier ejaculation was no longer the firm, sleek 
tube that I had initially penetrated. Now he was mushy and the sound of my 
penis moving inside him was clearly audible over the loud noise of the shower.

The warm water cascaded over us as I bounced Tristan with increasing ferocity. 
He rode my cock like a boy on a bucking stallion, never losing his grip around 
my shoulders and hips and spontaneously moving to position himself where the 
feelings were best. For Tristan, that meant locking his legs around my hips 
and firmly pressing his heels into my buttocks and thighs. By doing so, he 
lifted his bottom upward so that my cock reached only halfway into him. My 
glans pounded into his immature prostate and it drove us both to distraction 
until we could stand no more of the heightened stimulation and I forced him 
down again.

We were oblivious both to the shower water and time as we worked together. 
As our motions became more urgent, Tristan's head came to rest against my 
shoulder as he became physically drained. I fucked into him wildly, plunging 
my cock all the way inside his shuddering rectum as I rammed him downward. 
At the bottom of the stroke his body jarred as the cock inside him ground into 
his colon. He gasped and groaned as I jerked him away, only to shove him 
down even harder the next time. It would have been impossible to fuck Phan the 
same way or with the same intensity for my own strength would have been 
expended long before now. 

I felt Tristan's moist mouth sucking on my shoulder. Then he began to nibble 
my neck, quickly becoming more aggressive with ferocious nips as his orgasm 
neared. He sucked on me as my cock sucked loudly inside him. It was only a 
matter of seconds. I started to grow tired towards the end. It had been a long 
day and seventy pounds of boy was becoming too much to toss around. I put 
all my effort into finishing with a mind-shattering crescendo. Undoubtedly, it 
was the best orgasm that I had in my entire life. The last few thrusts were 
unforgettable. Tristan climaxed again, moaning in uncontrollable ecstasy as 
his body finally reached the pinnacle of its tender, eleven-year existence and 
he gave himself to me.

Each thrust produced a violent contraction in his sphincter that gripped my 
cock and tried to throttle the life out of it. Compared to the sudden strength 
he exerted, his earlier spasms had been mere ripples in his velvet- textured 
bowel. It was impossible to believe than anything so soft and loose could 
squeeze so tightly. Unable to restrain myself, I groaned and climaxed with 
him. I felt a fabulous deep opening inside him that my semen spurted endlessly 
into until my glans was submerged in my own seed. Thick, hot gushes exploded 
from my loins. My cock pulsed frantically within Tristan's welcoming embrace 
and I ejaculated copious fluids into the beautiful boy.

Slowly his tousled head looked up. Even though I had done all the work, the 
expression on his face was startling. He had a sleepy, blissful look. With 
glazed tired eyes, a thoroughly contented boy smiled weakly at me and half- 
heartedly tried to compress his sphincter around my shaft. His feeble effort 
was amusing. He was impossible to resist as streams of water dribbled down his 
face. I raped his pretty mouth as I had raped his young boy's ass with my 
penis. He took all of my cock and he now took my tongue deep into his mouth 
before his lips began to work feverishly against mine. We kissed with abandon, 
secure in the privacy of the small shower enclosure and released momentarily 
from any inhibitions. Unknown to me, a smear of Tristan's bright-red blood 
washed away in the shower, his innocence now replaced by lust.

When we parted I tried to find the words I wanted so badly to say. How could I 
convey my complete and utter satisfaction with what had transpired between us? 
I settled for another kiss, every bit as passionate as the one which 
preceded it. Tristan kissed back eagerly, taking my tongue again and 
substituting his own in my mouth. His enegy began to return.

I began to soap him as he clung all naked and giggly to me. He wriggled and 
writhed so much that I considered putting him down for fear of dropping him on 
the tiled floor. Instead I gripped him tighter and used one hand to work up 
a thick, white lather. His thin arms locked around my neck as his legs clamped 
around my pelvis. He was as slippery and smooth as an eel as I soaped him up 
and down. As my hands worked around his butt he squirmed. The tips of my 
fingers felt my penis as it exited from his nether opening, no longer squeezed 
by his soft insides but still held within him.

My hands travelled everywhere over his body, symbolically washing away the 
guilt I had. I had soiled him and now I was expunging the evidence of our 
union even as my cock remained inserted inside him. His mouth continued to 
suck absently on my shoulder as I massaged his bumpy spine and caressed his 
flanks. Long, wonderful minutes passed until my limp penis finally pulled free 
of its comfortable abode and dropped away. Like his own small sex organ, it 
too was temporarily discarded until our desire resurfaced.

As soon as there was no reason to continue to hold him up, I eased him to 
the floor and I knelt down and commenced to wash his lower half. This half 
became even more interesting as I worked upward from his feet. It was a 
pleasant task of constant rediscovery and open admiration. Above his knees the 
view was clearly superior to anything offered by the top half of his bare 
body. His groin captivated my full attention and I studied his sex organs with 
the appreciative eye of a boy connoisseur. Without a doubt, Tristan's penis 
was the smallest cock I had seen on an eleven-year-old boy, However, my 
basis for comparison was limited to a sample of one. Barely more than his tiny 
glans and a fraction of an inch of his shaft was visible. His belly tapered in 
a V-shape formed by the furrows of his thighs until it was almost to the 
base of his penis. Then it swelled and rounded to form a soft mound through 
which his penis exited. The underside of his mound became his little 
scrotum. I soaped his diminutive sex organs and massaged them gently, 
eliciting continuous giggles and muted squeals of delight as I playfully 
rolled his balls between my fingers. His penis stayed limp the entire time 
although he enjoyed my attention. At other times he was always so quick to 
present me with his boy-projectile that even his very softness excited me.

I twisted his compliant body around and parted his rounded cheeks to wash 
his anus. As I expected and fervently hoped, he was uninjured. Although his 
tiny orifice was still partially dilated from a good long fuck, it was nothing 
out of the ordinary as far as a young, gay boy was concerned. His little 
anus was, like my favorite pair of Nikes, well used. Other than the 
distended opening it showed no adverse impact of my ill- use. I was very 
glad that I had been both patient and careful in the bedroom.

I resisted temptation to try a finger, or two, or three inside that luscious 
boy-hole. I rinsed him off, gave him a playful slap on his firm, small 
bottom and followed him out of the shower. Anna Broadley would wait only so 
long before we would have to make other plans for dinner. Tristan dressed 
quickly in his new clothes, putting them on as fast as I could tear off the 
labels and hand them to him. As I dressed, he stood in front of the mirror, 
'checking himself out' with visible pride at his stunning appearance.

He was a fortunate lad with considerable natural beauty but dressed in new 
clothes he was absolutely adorable. With careful steps and graceful movements, 
he paraded like a model. 'Puberty Blues' enhanced an already perfect body. The 
clothes fit exactly, elaborating Nature's wonderful form and exaggerating 
his figure.

"You're sexy," I said in awe.

Tristan grinned cheekily. "Even with clothes on?"

"Yes! With those clothes it doesn't matter that much." I grinned and admired 
the enhanced bulge of his crotch. "Your mum did a great job."

"I know. Hannah said I would be so sexy that you'd want to do it as soon as 
you saw me! She said you wouldn't be able to keep your hands off me," he added
gleefully.

"She's absolutely right, Babe. I could take your clothes off right now."

He smirked as he inflicted his punishment. "Yeah but I'm starving so you'll 
have to wait for a while won't you?"



Tristan led the way to the broad expanse of windows and smiled cheekily as 
he glanced around the empty dining room. I sat down and he took the chair 
beside me. Not the chair opposite me, but the one that placed his back to 
the view that had drawn him to the window in the first place. The view was 
spectacular. The sun was setting and we looked towards the east. Long dark 
shadows emphasized the flowing procession of hills. Each tree was perfectly 
outlined against the horizon. Fences stretched into the distance as they 
followed gentle undulations. There were half a dozen cows grazing on the 
side of the nearest hill. It was both beautiful and romantic. One could not 
ask for anything more. Well, one could I suppose, but it would have to include 
Tristan being naked and in the privacy of our room.

"Nice view," I heard Tristan say.

I turned back and smiled at him. It was a wonderful view, made even better 
by the tousled-headed, sensuous boy who dominated my existence. He was 
beautiful, considerably more rugged than the manicured landscape beyond the 
windows, but equally perfect in my eyes.

"Uh huh," I murmured. "It's a very nice view, especially with you to look at."

That brought an instant smile and he hushed me with a quick motion of his eyes 
even as I heard Anna Broadley approach from behind me.

"Good evenin' again," she said loudly. "I hope the room was everything you 
expected. I thought you might take some time to clean up and relax a bit 
before you came down for dinner."

I glanced swiftly at Tristan and he stifled a peal of laughter that threatened 
to break out at any moment. His amusement was expressed in his suddenly 
prominent dimples of his cheeks. he smiled sweetly at Anna Broadley.

"I needed a shower pretty bad," he said and then added with a fixed glance 
at me, "it was a long drive from Gosford."

"Well then, I bet you're starving young man," she replied. "Now we're right 
out of the chicken but I do have some pork ribs left. You look like you 
could use some rib-meat," she laughed. "What say I cook up a load of ribs, 
You'll have a wait a while but I'll be faster than a rabbit under a fence."

"Anything is fine with me. I've got a big appetite tonight," I said.

Tristan cackled and tried to match her accent with one of his own. I had no 
chance against the two of them. 

"I'm starving. Ribs will go down great," he replied.

He smirked wickedly at me, clearly in his element and certainly more 
comfortable that I was. What I felt was a sudden pang of jealousy. It came out 
of nowhere and if I had not been hungry, I might even have dragged Tristan 
to a restaurant back in town instead of exposing him to this old woman's 
affection.

However, my ill will was unfounded. A moment later Anna disappeared into the 
kitchen and Tristan and I were alone again. His eyes sparkled happily. 
Momentarily I tried to ignore him as I endeavored to deal with my own problems 
first. He gave me no opportunity for self abuse. His leg moved to the side 
until his knee rested against mine. It stayed there, exerting a warm 
pressure of its own and preventing me from forgetting what we had just 
shared just a few minutes earlier. 

"She's cool," Tristan said with admiration. 

"I think she likes you, Tristan," I sighed absently. "God, I want you so bad." 
It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep my mind off Tristan. He was a 
distraction that I had no experience with beyond two weeks in Thailand and a 
boy whose parents welcomed my affection for their son.

"You're gonna screw up," Tristan said critically. He grinned cheekily. "You're 
gotta be more careful talking about 'your appetite'."

I nodded and gazed into his magnetic eyes for the thousandth time that day. 
Again I heard Anna approach and I turned around to see her carrying drinks 
to us. After she left I turned back to Tristan. He smirked cheekily as he 
sipped his coke.

"You were pretty incredible in the bedroom," he whispered.

I grinned back at him. "So were you, kid. I don't believe we did that."

His head bowed and his mouth came closer conspiratorially. "That was the best! 
I'm still shaking inside. If feels like there's a great big hole in my butt. I 
can't believe how good it felt at the end."

"I know, I can believe it either," I answered. "I thought I might have hurt 
you when we were doing it so fast at the end. I was all the way inside you."

"Na! It was great." Tristan paused and giggled. "You know what, Peter? I think 
I'm still horny."

I was surprised. With no prior experience with a prepubescent boy, I had yet 
to learn that his recovery time was measured in minutes instead of the hour or 
two that it took me to get interested in sex after an orgasm.

"There's not much either of us can do about it now. You'll have to wait 
until after dinner. Then I'll take care of our little friend."

Tristan continued to giggle. "He likes yours,... a lot. Maybe they can play 
together after we go back to our room."

He glanced down and then his eyes lifted back up from his crotch he was 
smirking. The lewd expression could mean only one thing.

"You got a hard on, haven't you?" I asked quietly. 

The youngster nodded shamelessly. "I didn't put any undies on remember? It's 
itchin' like mad against my zipper."

I raised my eyebrows slightly. The very thought of Tristan sitting beside me 
dressed only in shirt and jeans made my heart rate rocket into overdrive. He 
was right, I realized. I remembered him dressing, pulling up his new slacks 
over his freshly washed pink penis. I hoped nothing leaked out the back-
door. I jumped when I heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper being opened 
slowly.

"Yeah!" Tristan croaked. "That's better now."

I wanted to look under the table. It was impossible to believe that a boy 
would expose himself in public and yet the sound, although muted, had been his 
zipper opening. I relaxed into my chair and tried to focus my mind on the view 
outside.

I was never any good at keeping my New year's resolutions and I was a lost 
cause even as I tried to resist temptation. My hand dropped under the table 
and slid towards Tristan. I touched the soft brushed cloth of his new pants. 
His thigh felt warm and he trembled slightly at my touch. Three more inches 
and my fingertips brushed the jagged edge of his zipper. Without underpants to 
provide a covering of last resort, I stroked his hot hardness. Tristan 
sucked in air as he quaked under my fingers. His little rigid cock quivered as 
my hand trembled. I held the precious little sausage, more like a cocktail 
frank, between one finger and my thumb and mused at the extreme softness of 
his delicate skin and the bone-like stiffness underneath.

"Yeahhhh!" he breathed out. "Jerk me off,.... pleasseee," he begged.

I nodded quickly, grinning with the sheer perversity of illicit contact. It so 
excited me that normally rational action was overcome by lust and eroticism.

"Tell me if she comes through the door," I demanded. "She won't be able to see 
you but she still might realize that I'm still playing with your dick."

I went to work, fondling his sensitive organ gently until we both became 
braver. He was deliciously stiff, his little ramrod boy-cock standing up 
proudly to attention as it received my affectionate caresses. If there was any 
doubt that Tristan did not enjoy sex, it was swiftly dispelled as I rubbed his 
tender member. He wriggled in his seat and his knees moved apart as wide as 
they could go. My access was unfettered and one small hand helped to pull 
his slacks open at the crotch. With my fingertips I could feel the wrinkles 
forming in his scrotum as it drew up underneath. Now that it was much 
smaller it was more suited to his little penis. He was undeniably ready for 
sex. I rubbed his balls lovingly and he sighed as I squeezed them with 
gentle presses of my fingers. Little whimpering sounds began to emerge from 
his throat, mixed with heavy breathing and frequent gasps.

Long wonderful minutes passed before Tristan jerked upright in his seat. 
"She's comin'," he breathed.

My hand darted away and I casually inspected the silverware as she came to the 
table with our dinners. Dinner was excellent considering that we were more 
than an hour and a half late although a slab of pork ribs was difficult to eat 
with only one hand. The quiet sound of Tristan's zipper closing was heard only 
as Anna Broadley returned to clear the dishes and bring desert. He coughed 
loudly to give me warning and squeezed my hand tightly as I gave his little 
cock and balls a last playful tug.

And then it was back to our room and off with our clothes. For once, Tristan 
undressed himself but my eyes never left his thin body for more than a few 
seconds. He yanked back the top sheet and jumped onto the bed. Against the 
pure white of the sheet, his tanned lean body looked particularly inviting and 
his meager sex was the stuff of my dreams. I yearned to pick up where we had 
been interrupted at dinner, or even better, a repeat performance of what we 
had done before dinner. I decided that it would be Tristan's decision this 
time. It was his holiday as well as mine.

I approached the side of the bed and looked down at his fabulous naked body. 
"Well," I asked. "Should I get the suntan oil again or what?"

Tristan grinned and his head turned slightly. The bottle of suntan oil was 
already beside the bed. This boy apparently thought of everything.

"If you want,... I know I promised and everything, but it kinda hurts 
inside. I like doing it as much as you do but Alex said I had to be careful 
because I'm new at this and you're a lot bigger than I am back there."

I smiled reassuringly. I expected as much. My penis was, according to the 
youngster, not only much bigger than his rectum, but he was unused to having 
it inside him. Without doubt, I had obviously caused him pain. In the nicest 
way possible he was trying to tell me that he needed a rest.

"Okay! What then? What do you want to do, Tag? Tonight we're going to do 
whatever you want."

"Whatever I want......" Tristan thought aloud. "I-I-I,... I want you to do 
it,... but I think it's going to hurt a whole lot more than before dinner." He 
smiled shyly and casually scratched his breast just below his nipple. "I don't 
know what else there is to do except that!"

"Oh! So you haven't sucked another guy's cock yet?" I asked teasingly. "And 
with a pretty mouth like yours, it's about time you started."

Tristan smirked. "Will you suck mine as well?"

I nodded as I started to settle down on the bed beside him. I took the tried 
and tested position of sixty-nine. He was uncertain of what I was about but as 
he quickly caught on I elicited a soft sigh. He was in rhapsody as I went down 
on him. I took his cock all the way into my mouth on the first attempt. He was 
the ideal size for this, his erection barely noticeable as my tongue swirled 
and swooped over the delicate organ. He trembled instantly and his narrow hips 
lifted up with more strength that I anticipated. He wanted to drive his hungry 
little dick right through the roof of my mouth. He was impossible to resist as 
I sucked feverishly. His balls followed of their own accord, taking their 
natural and rightful place inside the safety afforded by my equally hungry 
mouth. Tristan tasted a lot better than pork ribs with Jacaranda House sauce.

I could hear his soft moans as I engulfed him and bit lightly on his balls. He 
writhed under me, squirming and wriggling as if he wanted to escape. In 
reality all he wanted to achieve was to fuck his cock into my tongue and 
make himself more aroused. I easily managed all of his sex organs and some 
of the soft, smooth flesh that would, when his puppy fat disappeared, become 
his pubis. Still, Tristan had not returned the favor, but I was in no rush. 
Just being able to satisfy his young lust was more than enough for me. There 
was no threat of imminent orgasm for me, and even if he did climax, it would 
make no difference for sveral more years to come. There was plenty of time 
to do what I really wanted and I resolved to take my time and enjoy every 
moment of it. 

Just when I had given up all hope of Tristan accepting my penis into his 
mouth, I felt his first tentative touch. His tongue was wet as it swiped 
slowly across the engorged head of my penis. Then his lips touched my glans an 
I felt his first passionate kiss. It did not end until he had kissed every 
part of my cock at least two times. No part of my organ remained untouched 
from his soft, moist lips and then he gradually took me inside his lush soft 
mouth and bathed me with his saliva. It took all my self control to avoid 
humping his pretty face as I became increasingly excited.

Whenever Phan and I sixty-nined, he never took more than about half of my 
penis before he stopped. On the other hand I lived to deep throat him. 
Admittedly his penis was only about four and half inches when it was fully 
erect, a lot smaller than my much thicker seven inches of manhood. But then 
I have always been attracted to smaller organs. As soon as my glans was past 
his lips, Tristan stopped. His mouth seemed to be stretched open as wide as it 
could go. He looked a lot like a little boy sucking a lollipop that was far 
too big for him. However, he felt very good indeed.

The sensations of a young boy's lips clamped tightly around my penis is 
impossible to describe but I will try. At first there was a sense of awe at 
what Tristan was doing. He was without inhibitions, or at least he had very 
few hang-ups that plague most boys of his generation. His tongue took over 
with instinctive moves of its own as it slurped and licked across the 
sensitive tip of my cock. Every few seconds he sucked as hard as he could. 
Tristan truly understood the meaning of the expression to 'suck cock'. He 
created the vacuum deep in his chest and tried to pull me into him while he 
held my cock firmly between his sharp teeth. 

It was at one time both considerably pleasurable and quite painful. I expected 
that he was trying hard to simulate my mouth as I pleasured his penis, 
testicles, and groin area, or perhaps even trying to encourage me to be more 
aggressive in how I sucked him. At first the latter was more unlikely but 
gradually I began to think that young Tristan needed greater stimulation. 
Finally, uncertain of what he really wanted I lifted away, gave his little 
rigid tool a quick, wet kiss, and held its saliva covered length between my 
fingers as I looked up at him.

"How does it feel so far?" I asked.

Tristan nodded slightly and tried to smile around my penis. Then he too pulled 
back, and grinned as he rubbed my cock with his fingers, sliding up and down 
on the slippery film of spit.

"This is the best, Peter. I could do this forever!"

"So could I. You're a natural cocksucker, Tag." I grinned back at him.

"What happens now?" Tristan asked gleefully.

"What do you mean?"

"You know! Can we keep sucking each other?"

"Of course! You can suck mine whenever you want. Do you mind the taste?"

"Huh? No, it's kind of salty, isn't it? You can suck mine too, whenever you 
want, Peter, just so that I get to do the same to yours."

I laughed and playfully shook his hand. "It's a deal." Tristan giggled and 
started to lower his head towards my rigid penis. Gently I stopped him. "Not 
so fast. If you keep doing that, I'm going to do it,... you know, my semen 
will come out."

"So! I don't mind. I've seen it before. It looks just like milk."

I cuffed him lightly on the shoulder. "When it comes out you have to decide 
what you want to do. I'll warn you beforehand so you can take your mouth 
away if you want." 

"Do you want to do it in my mouth?" Tristan asked uncertainly. "I don't mind.
You can if you want."

I nodded slowly. I wanted to fill his body with my seed. It mattered not one 
bit to me which end of him I used. I reached up and placed my hand behind 
his dishevelled head. His hair was already mussed up as though it had not seen 
a brush in years but he had been perfectly groomed for dinner. With his lean 
body, the wild mass of unruly, long hair made his head appear 
disproportionately large. He was a very sexy boy in my eyes. I drew him 
towards my groin and his mouth opened as his fingers lifted my cock up. It 
melted into his mouth, sucked into his throat as he gagged. His teeth were 
well back out of the way. Tristan deep-throated me, insofar as an eleven-year- 
old boy can deep-throat a seven-inch penis. There was a period of several 
seconds of extraordinary surprise and delight as he stayed there with the head 
of my cock pushing into his tonsils. My hand gripped his head and pulled him 
forward as I willed him not to stop. My fingers twisted in his tangled 
locks, my cock pulsed in erotic joy, and I stabbed further into him with a 
restrained push. He felt unbelievably good as he swallowed me. Quickly I eased 
him away before he puked.

Tristan gave me a teasing wink as he glanced up to find my approval. I 
nodded happily and his fingers tickled my balls as his lips kissed around my 
glans. He went down again without my guidance and did what comes naturally 
to every boy when he is given the opportunity. He understood how far he 
could take my cock before it blocked his airway and he pushed the limit a 
little further every time. No matter how hard he tried from then on, he seldom 
progressed further than half of my length. However, what he did have inside 
his mouth was more than enough for me. The other half, he rubbed by using 
his thumb and three small fingers. It was infinitely superior to 
masturbating myself and a lot better than anything Phan had managed to do in 
the two weeks that I had spent with him.

Tristan brought me to the edge in less than five minutes and sucked the life 
out of me. My orgasm arrived just as Tristan's head came away. He had gone 
down too far and he was gasping for breath as I spurted. He tried to take my 
spasming cock back inside his mouth but the next two blasts of semen 
splattered over his face. He pumped my shaft vigorously, extracting the last 
of it with demonic fervor. It dribbled down my cock, lubricating his flying 
fist with slippery juice. His expression was lewd and triumphant as he sat 
up and smirked at me proudly.

"Pretty good huh?" Tristan asked. "I wanted you to do it in my mouth," he 
admonished. He giggled. "But YOU missed!"

"That's right, blame it on me. You must like the taste of it a lot," I 
chuckled. "Most guys don't like it at first but I guess you're the 
exception, I guess. It's all over your nose, Tristan."

His lips smacked as he tasted my juice and decided that he liked the flavor of 
adult semen. He grinned widely, leaned forward over me, and began to lick up 
all that he had missed when I ejaculated over my belly. In a way it was better 
than doing it in his mouth as I watched his small pink tongue dart out and 
return inside carrying its slimy coating of semen.

Finally finished, he gave my penis a long wet kiss by slurping over it with 
his soft, pink tongue fully extended and settled back down beside me. Even 
though Tristan had not orgasmed, for the moment my lust was satisfied. I 
stroked his head lovingly as I ran my fingers through his unmanageable hair. I 
wanted to tell him that I loved him but the words would cheapen what we had 
shared. I believed that I did love him more than was humanly possible but 
after the intimacy of being sucked, I could not even begin to convey my 
affection for him. I sighed and pulled him closer against me so that we were 
firmly pressed together. His groin was hot against my thigh and his little 
hard penis poked crudely into me. Slowly his own excitement evaporated and 
it became limp. He felt warm and wonderful as he snuggled into my protective 
embrace.

Slowly his small hand slithered across my belly until his finger tips 
brushed my saliva-moistened penis. He smiled shyly and his big blue eyes 
looked into mine. What I saw was 100-percent boy and I felt pure unadulterated 
lust.

"Do you want to?" he muttered self-consciously.

"Again?"

Tristan's head rocked on my shoulder as he nodded slightly. "We can,... if you 
want to," he added. He sighed sleepily.

"I thought you wanted to get something better than suntan oil, horny-bum."

"I could do it all night if we had some of that K-Y stuff you told me about in 
the car," Tristan giggled softly.

He yawned. I kissed the top of his head and smelled the apple-blossom 
fragrance of the shampoo he had used earlier.

"You going to fall asleep before I finish, Tristan," I teased.

He squirmed and wriggled closer. "This bed is so soft, and you feel so nice to 
sleep on," he murmured dreamily.

"Are you happy?"

"Uh huh,.... Hmmmm,.... He's getting big again,..... Hmmmmmm," he sighed 
drowsily. "We can,... if you want,... I love having him inside me, Peter."

We shared a knowing look as he yawned again. He was heavy-eyed and ready to 
drift off to sleep at any moment. Lovingly I eased him off me. He moved 
sluggishly and I helped him to turn over onto his other side.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "There's always tomorrow.?

Tristan nodded somnolently. It was late and we both moved listlessly. He was 
passive as I gently lifted his legs up to his chest and settled behind him. 
There was no encouragement from the inert boy as I lovingly pulled his small 
cheeks open, drooled spittle over my fingers, and guided my penis to his 
waiting orifice as I wet the head of it. Even my penetration was lethargic. 
I pulled Tristan onto me with a slow, deliberate pressure that enabled my 
penis to enter his dazed body without difficulty. My penis moved forward at 
a snail's pace until my hair-covered pubis squashed into his baby-soft 
buttocks and then I stopped. Perhaps he was already asleep, or merely in the 
fading stage before slumbering, but there was no indication of 
consciousness. With my penis fully ensconced inside him, I possessed him 
insofar as one person can possess the body of another. He was mine.

We fell asleep like that, joined together but unable to conclude our union.



With dawn came another day and the undeniable realization that we were truly 
in love. I awoke before Tristan with a morning erection and a sensation unlike 
any that I had ever known. My penis was rigid and as hot as molten metal. 
Impossibly, my penis had remained deep inside Tristan's body during the night. 
I did not stir and resisted the temptation to move my aroused organ even a 
fraction of an inch. Even the slightest motion would disturb the sleeping boy. 
He snoozed into the crook of my arm and his hot, moist breath drifted across 
my forearm as a repetitive reminder that he was very much alive.

He stirred slightly and I felt the fluctuation of his rectum as he started 
to awaken. A little firm squeeze, a restrained sigh, a slight oscillation of 
his hips as he wavered on the edge of consciousness. The tranquility of 
early dawn was interrupted by a loud pandemonium of kookaburras outside. 
Tristan whimpered as the commotion arrested his sleep.

"..., feel soooo goood,..." he slurred.

"Damn birds," I crooned in his ear. "I was going to fuck you while you were 
still asleep," I added.

"You're soooo big." He blinked his eyes and rubbed his fingers into them. "You 
didn't,... last night,... You fell asleep too."

"Uh huh! I was in you all night so don't be too sure young man."

"Yeah, I know. I woke up hours ago and you had a hard-on then as well."

"What happened?"

"Hmmmmm,... What do you think happened?" Tristan asked in a lewd undertone.

"I,... I don't know."

"Move your dick around a bit," he instructed innocently. "I want to feel him 
inside me."

Slowly I eased away from him and gradually pushed forward. He felt wonderfully 
hot, loose, and very succulent, much more so than he had been when my penis 
had last entered him. More of my sap was inside him.

"You little butt-fucker," I grinned. "You did it while I was asleep, didn't 
you?"

"Uh huh! I did it just by squeezing on him. I didn't want to wake you up. 
And you came bunches in me, Peter."

"Well, I'm sorry I missed all the fun, Tag," I laughed. "Maybe I can make up 
for it now?" I suggested.

"I guess. If you have to," Tristan said mock reluctance.

He started to giggle and I began to tickle him by forcing my fingers under his 
arms and reaching into the cavities of his arm pits. I moved down to his 
ribs and he became hysterical as I prodded him without mercy. But all the time 
his buttocks stayed firmly compressed against my groin. He was taking no 
chances. His frenzied movements excited both of us.

Finally I began to hump against him. Holding his left hip with one hand and 
using the other to alternately tickle and caress the upper flank. He writhed 
against me, rhythmically driving his bottom into my crotch as he jerked his 
pelvis with relentless desire. My penis surged into his constricting body as 
it glided in the lubricious tube of his rectum. Within a minute we were 
fucking wildly, abandoned to the overpowering delight that consumed us. 
Nothing had changed while we had been asleep except the ease at which 
Tristan's body responded to mine. Sex had suddenly become much easier and even 
more enjoyable as his discomfort evaporated.

The sheets and blanket were pushed away as we sought other positions. Gripping 
Tristan's slender body, I rolled onto him and pounded into him with 
desperate lunges that I would never have imagined possible given the 
difference in our sizes. He groaned and whined beneath me as he tottered on 
the edge of orgasm.

Again he was the taciturn pre-teen boy. He said nothing but communicated his 
desire with monosyllable sounds that told me to go deeper, harder, and faster. 
I vacillated between gentle loving strokes that focused on his immature 
prostate, to frantic plunges that engaged the entire length of my penis. I 
fucked my young boy sex-fiend exactly the way he wanted to be fucked.

Then suddenly his animal-like sounds became urgent and I was unable to hold 
back any longer. Thirty minutes had passed since we started and it came to a 
swift and disagreeable end. Just seconds before I was going to explode into 
Tristan's straining, shuddering body someone knocked on the door. 

I gripped Tristan tighter and fucked into him with corybantic dives that 
propelled my penis deep inside him. He grunted and heaved against me as his 
approaching orgasm charged his body with fearful energy. His rectum locked 
onto my penis, wrenching my aching penis as I began to ejaculate. In twenty 
seconds it was finished and I slumped back, twitching as the last spurts 
were yanked out me by Tristan's wresting, quaking bowel.

"Oh God," I moaned deliriously. "I think I'm dying."

Tristan's recovery was not instantaneous but it was a lot faster than mine. 
"You're okay," he teased cheekily. "But someone is at the door, you know."

I nodded. "They can wait."

The knocking sound came again. It was not impatient but it was persistent. 
There was no choice but to get up. Playfully, Tristan used the remarkable 
muscles inside his body to exert a delightful pressure on my softening 
penis. It was a fond farewell and as the muscles slackened he cautiously 
pulled away. My limp penis slithered out of his fabulous cavity and into the 
light of day.

I lurched to my feet and swayed as I searched for something to wear. I settled 
for a bath towel that lay discarded on the floor and I clumsily wrapped it 
around my waist. I careened towards the door and the insistent knocking of our 
early-morning visitor. 

I was greeted by the smiling face of Anna Broadley as Tristan quickly pulled 
the sheet up to conceal his nakedness. The rich aroma of anal sex was not 
hidden so easily. She carried a large tray suitably laden with coffee, milk, 
and four of the biggest scones I had ever seen.

"'Mornin," she announced. "I hope you slept well. It's a big bed so I'm sure 
there was plenty of room for you and young Tristan." 

She smiled widely as she looked past me to the bed, to Tristan, to the boy I 
had been making love to less than a minute earlier.

"We both slept great, Missus Broadley," Tristan cheekily grinned back. "He 
snores, but I always sleep like a log."

"I don't snore you little rascal," I laughed. "Well, I might, but I don't 
think so. If I do it's only because he wriggles around."

Tristan raised his eyebrows as if I was telling a lie. "He does," he 
confirmed. "Uncle Peter snores like a chain-saw."

Anna chuckled. "That's more like it. I hope he treats you right, young man"

Tristan nodded and looked at me uncertainly. Tristan was silent but he 
stared at her with dogged perseverance. He was steadfast as he slowly sized 
her up. 

"He does!"

"Well now, Tristan, I hope so. A boy like you deserves the very best."

I nodded agreeably.

"Your Uncle Chris used to sleep in this bed," she added ambiguously. "Fact is, 
the cover that was on this bed last night was one he brought me for a gift a 
few years ago."

Now it was my turn to be unremitting. In the instant that it took me to 
realize that the lace cover that had been over the bed rail before dinner 
was no longer there, I understood what was unspoken. She KNEW!

For the moment I decided to ignore the facts. "It looks like a nice day," I 
said. "Maybe we can go for a walk along the beach this morning," I suggested.

"Oh? I expected you to stay around here day. Young Tristan here reminds me 
so much of my son when he was a boy," she said. She glanced at Tristan and 
smiled reassuringly. There was along silence. "Your Tristan is a LOT like my 
Kevin. Probably more then you realize Mister Sayd."

I stared beyond the window as I considered what she had just said. The 
emphasis 'lot' was unmistakable. She was telling me that she knew.

"I'm sorry about the cover, Missus Broadley," I mumbled.

The cover had disappeared after she had come in to turn down the beds. She 
would have been blind not to see the yellow smears. The signs of our love 
stained it, unmistakable shared juices of my semen and the oil I had used to 
lubricate Tristan's body.

"I was going to clean it,... but we went to dinner first because I didn't want 
to keep you waiting."

The woman smiled at Tristan gently with a reassuring look. "You're so much 
like my Kevin. But you're still so young." Her voice was sad but it was also 
full of sympathy as if she understood our love. "In this business one sees 
just about everything. A long time ago I decided that whatever my,... my 
guests do in private is not my concern. Sometimes a boy needs someone he can 
talk to and be with as he grows up. When he needs a grown-up friend, its 
best that I mind my own business."

Tristan blushed and glanced at me for support. I stepped forward 
protectively and placed myself between them. "He has a friend, a very good 
friend," I said simply.

"I know!" The woman shrugged. "I know you're his friend. Maybe lover would 
be more accurate. I suspected something like this when Chris called me to make 
the reservation. Besides,... well he has the look."

"What look?" I demanded.

"Some boys are different. My Kevin was different. It was the way he was born.
It's just the way some boys are. They like men. They can't help it." 
One finger brushed against her lips thoughtfully. "Kevin was very special. 
It was right for him and I think it's right for Tristan as well. I hope so."

"Right?" I asked uncertainly. "How do you mean right?"

"When Kevin was about a year or two older than Tristan he fell in love,...with 
a man. Chris Arneson came up here to look at some land for an investment 
Land prices were high and resorts were springing up all over the coast back 
then. They met and one thing led to another. When Kevin came to me, I was 
shocked. They were a long way past friendship,... and we were poor and Chris 
was very rich. He wanted Kevin to go away with him. He wanted them to live
together."

"I know the feeling," I admitted as I gazed at Tristan. He was listening 
attentively, as if hearing his own story.

"It was a hard decision but I agreed. It was the best thing for Kevin but
I couldn't stand to lose him. It was very hard on Kevin. Anyway, eventually
Chris brought us here. The following year he bought this place for me so 
that he could be with Kevin whenever he wanted."

Her voice trailed off in a distant memory. "And?" I prompted.

"Kevin died a few years later. He was in Vietnam. He was nineteen and he 
stepped on a land mine."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"So you see, Mister Sayd, I do understand about you and Tristan. Not many
people would of course, but when you've lived through it like I have and seen 
the happiness my son had before he dies,... well, it makes you think it
shouldn't be against the law. Love is a beautiful thing. It doesn't matter
if it's between a man and a boy."

I nodded in agreement. "I'm sorry about Kevin," I said softly.

Anna Broadley smiled at my young friend. "I thought about you, Tristan, all 
last night. It was like hearing and seeing my Kevin again after all these 
years. You're a lucky man, Mister Sayd."

"Yes, I know," I admitted as I beamed back at Tristan. "I guess I'm the 
happiest man alive right now thanks to Tag."

Anna Broadley paused as she looked from Tristan to me and back at Tristan 
again. "He's a lucky boy to have you, Mister Sayd." She started towards the 
door. "After you've finished your hike, I hope you'll come back and spend a 
few days here with me."

"Missus Broadley?" Tristan began awkwardly.

He sat up in bed uncertainly and the sheet dropped to his thighs. That he 
was naked did not bother either him or the woman but I swallowed nervously 
as his young body was displayed. His small sex organs lay exposed between 
his slender brown legs. Against the virginal white of the sheets, he looked 
both innocent and intensely sensual. I stared at him with carnal lust and 
remembered the erotic fervor with which we had been fucking before we were 
interrupted.

"Yes, Tristan?"

"I'm sorry about making a mess on your cover."

"Kevin used to do the same thing. Over the years I reckon he must have left 
his stains on all of the seats in the house." She shrugged nonchalantly, 
accustomed both to naked boys and the results of their sexual activities. 
"It easily comes off with a little soap and water. Whatever goes in has to 
come out eventually."

I laughed, feeling a strong sense of relief. Tristan smiled at me wantonly. 
"We'll try to be more careful next time, won't we Tag?" I said.

She stopped in the doorway and regarded us thoughtfully. If she had any 
reservations about what she saw she did not voice them. She smiled and left.

"Well!" I exclaimed in disbelief as the door closed after her.

"S-hh-eee-t!" Tristan guffawed. "I thought we were in deep shit for a while 
there."

"Me too! We were lucky, Tag. We're going to have to be more careful."

"Yeah, I know."

"The bedroom smells like a whorehouse," I chuckled. "She must have known we
were having sex just before she came in."

Tristan sniffed and smiled. "I never noticed it before now but you're right. I 
bet she could smell it as well."

I laughed. "I could see her nose sniffing like a dog. Ummmm,... what is that 
nice smell. Ummmmm smells just like,.... BOY BUM!"

I jumped onto the bed and pushed Tristan to the side. He struggled as I 
dragged him lower, kissing his bare chest and shoulders as I went. I 
ravished his bare skin, licking, sucking, biting, like the famished beast that 
I was. It sent him into fits of laughter as he writhed and wriggled and 
tried to escape. Finally I pinned him down and stuck my tongue in his mouth 
and tried to get it part of the way down his throat. He kissed me back with 
more passion than seemed possible for an eleven-year-old boy, even one who was 
as randy as Tristan.

When we stopped playing around my coffee was cold. Fortunately, the milk and 
oversized scones (and Tristan and his undersized penis) tasted great.
As soon as we finished our breakfast, we showered. Needless to say our 
second shower together was not quite as much fun as our first shower. We 
soaped each other up and I goosed his little bum hole as he humped his hard 
miniature cock into my thigh. All covered with foam and slippery as an eel, 
Tristan revelled in the physical contact as I pummeled him playfully. As he 
became more rambunctious, I began to take control. I ended up by pushing him 
against the tiled wall and pinning him. I groped his naked, wriggling body 
wildly as I kissed him. He squirmed, giggling uncontrollably as he fought 
back.

But it was all a game and all he really wanted to do was rub his body 
against mine and try his hardest to get me to ejaculate over his flat, brown 
tummy. I responded by sticking my soap-slicked finger into his anus. I 
inserted it with a single hard thrust and Tristan gasped as it surged 
through his sphincter. I placed the tip of my finger into the marble-sized 
lump of his prostate and tantalized his inner nerves with frenzied stabbing. 
Within seconds he was overjoyed and he moaned as successive waves of delight 
flooded over him. As his orgasm approached his face elevated and as he gazed 
into my eyes, I saw unbridled passion. His smile gladdened my heart. I existed 
only for one purpose; to make him happy. We kissed like two wild animals.

He encouraged my thrusting finger by jerking his pelvis back and forth, 
fucking himself onto my digit with abandon. The soap provided more than enough 
lubrication for him to pull completely away and then slam back down and plunge 
my finger through his nicely dilated anus and all the way into his rectum. 
When he began to gasp for air I knew that it was time to finish him off. My 
finger touched the very center of his being and it was only three inches 
inside him. His prostate was a nucleus for the sensations that overpowered 
him. He came closer to the point of climax and as he used all of his 
strength to shove against my finger, he began to shake with the intensity of 
it. His nipples, tiny hard nubs, rasped against my chest as he propelled his 
body to the limit of his young straining muscles.

The cry of ecstasy, when it came from deep in his chest, echoed against the 
tiled walls. My finger was embedded in his core and I felt the instant 
pressure as all of his energy was exerted. He squeezed with all his might, 
still impotent, his shrivelled penis dry as he slumped back. I withdrew my 
finger and kept the tip at his opening, exerting the slightest pressure on his 
anus as he subsided. The look on his face was one of rapture, transported 
beyond the reality of his young life to the intoxication of sexual euphoria 
normally reserved for adults. I shared his bliss as the steaming water 
cascaded over us and kissed him until my lips were sore.

Finally Tristan recovered and with a joyful smile began to repeat his 
delectable movements against me. This time he was careful not to bring his 
genitals into contact. Similarly, I avoided his raw anus. He was intent on 
pleasuring me. I erupted quickly but in such great quantity that my 
testicles ached. As he felt the erratic jerks of my penis he started to giggle 
and his driving body moved with less force as he smeared my semen over us. 
He continued his gentle undulation until the last of it was washed away. He 
grinned at me triumphantly as my throbbing penis slowly subsided, reached 
forward and gave it a deliberate tug, and then tilted his head back so that 
I could kiss him. He stuffed his tongue into my mouth and I sucked as hard 
as I could while I clasped his firm bottom tightly. For the zillionth time 
that morning I thought about how I was able to penetrate him and marvelled 
that it was actually possible to get my penis so deeply inside his slender 
body, so far that it actually felt as though it would pierce his belly.

We dried off hurriedly, snapping our towels at each other with painful 
flicks at exhausted sex organs. But for the present, there was no arousal 
beyond the titillation of already exalted spirits and tingling bodies from a 
hot shower and orgasm. His recovery was nothing short of spectacular. It was 
difficult to imagine Tristan physically exhausted as he had been only 
minutes earlier. We did not talk as we dressed and with regret I watched his 
beautiful body disappear under his clothes. 

We needed some essentials before the weekend and we went shopping. It was an 
hilarious expedition was as we cruised the aisles behind a careening cart 
steered by Tristan Alexander Gordon, race-car-driver. He took corners at 
death-defying speed and braked so hard that there may have been skid marks 
on the vinyl floor. All the while we bickered about what to buy. Trying to 
convince Tristan that dried fruits were not only better for him but more 
likely to survive the rigors of a day at the beach than Violet Crumble bars 
took several minutes. It was only one of our playful disagreements as 
Tristan became more relaxed and boisterous. We both won. I added two boxes 
of raisins to the cart and Tristan got his dozen candy bars. His allowance 
would be one per day if he 'behaved'.

At that, Tristan giggled and nudged me. His lewd look conveyed exactly what he 
intended. There was no doubt in my mind that for Tristan, 'behaving', was 
construed to mean having sex at every opportunity. And if there was any doubt, 
it was quickly dispelled when we came to the aisle with pharmaceutical 
products. Three large tubes of lubricant, a tube of Preparation H, and a
box of suppositories would be enough for our needs. Again we looked 
at each other and our mutual lust was enough for me to send Tristan back to 
pick up a carton of prunes. Unless I was mistaken, he was going to need a 
little assistance with nature's calls before long. That, and a sore bum were
the price of being in love with a man.

With a bag full of groceries we headed back to the guest house. It was time to 
load up my small backpack and to make sure that we had everything that we 
needed. Tristan stood by and watched, placing himself in control of the 
entertainment as he fiddled with the stereo in my car and cavorted happily. He 
asked endless questions, such as why I placed things where I did in the 
back- pack, and why didn't I place the K-Y closer to the top. He left the 
obvious unstated and grinned at his own crude innuendo. I was nearly 
finished as Anna Broadley came up carrying a small metal cake-tin.

"I baked some cookies for you," she announced as she offered Tristan the 
tin. "Kevin used to like them. They're oat-meal and raisin."

"Thanks Missus Broadley!" Tristan replied ebulliently. His eyes sparkled 
with enthusiasm, as if his gratitude was an intense emotion.

"Well, you're very welcome Tristan. You'll need to keep your strength up for 
what's ahead." She smiled at me and Tristan started to blush. Her meaning 
was obvious. "A couple of hours without home-cooked food is a long time for 
a growing boy."

"Yeah, I know. This morning I kept telling him to buy things I liked, Missus 
Broadley, but he insisted on stuff that was good for me."

I laughed as I pushed the towels into my back-pack. I remembered that one 
thing we had not bought out of the room was his swimming costume. He could 
do without it, and we could both go naked. It was a pleasant thought although
it would mean finding a very private beach. The idea of being naked with 
Tristan appealed to me.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of him. He won't go hungry. He can probably 
survive for days on what he ate last night and we'll only be away for a few 
nights. That was a superb dinner, Anna."

"Why thank you. And Tristan, for heaven's sake please call me Anna too. Missus 
Broadley makes me feel so, well so old." She smiled happily. "You will be back 
here for a few days, won't you? I'd like to get to know both of you and after
the weekend the place will be empty."

I nodded. "I really do appreciate you driving us up there."

"It's no problem. It's only ten miles. By the way, Peter, you can leave your 
car in the garage behind the house if you wish. It'll be safe enough here 
but it's so nice that it really should be inside."

"That's very nice of you, Anna. I was worried about leaving it outside with 
all these trees around. I expect there would be bird shit all over the top 
by the time we got back."

Tristan opened the tin as I was talking and pulled out a cookie for himself. 
He grinned at the woman as he nibbled around the edge. His too-pretty-for-a-
boy mouth was a delight to watch. Only two hours ago his full, passionate lips 
had been locked around my penis. That my sex organ was still covered with 
the rich-smelling juice from inside his bowel did not faze him. He had slurped 
over it as eagerly as I tongued the loose opening where it had come from. That 
morning I had done something that I had always dreamed of doing with a boy. 
I tasted my own semen as my tongue entered his hot hole. It was not 
something that I would have cared to do with Phan. 



I tightened the straps and lifted the pack out of the trunk. "Here you go, 
Tag," I said as I handed it to him.

"Well, I guess we're ready to go,"

He happily carried the back pack and followed Anna Broadley to her car. 
Despite his slender prepubescent body he was both remarkably strong and agile. 
His muscles were long and thin, his tendons like narrow cords that stretched 
the smooth skin of his limbs. He looked so good in the 'Puberty Blues' 
shorts and shirt that I wanted to kiss him right there. I resisted 
temptation because it would only embarass him.



For the first few miles the beach trail did not live up to its reputation as 
presented by Chris. It followed a line of hills as it traversed an area of 
forest from the road to the beach. But it was easy going as we picked our 
way through often dense stands of trees. Some trunks were several feet in 
diameter and they grew so thickly in places that it seemed impossible for them 
to find the necessary nourishment in the sandy soil. I appreciated the slow 
introduction for it had been a more exhausting morning than I was used to. 

The trail wound around one hill and down into a secluded Eucalyptus-scented 
valley before it ascended the next hill. The ground became pebbly and 
several times only good luck saved us from spills as we slipped on rolling 
stones. However, as the morning wore on and the heat increased, the air became 
thick and humid. The moisture on the ground evaporated and drenched us with 
sweat as we labored on into the day. 

It was always the same once I started on a hike. I wanted to get as far away 
as possible from civilization, and now that Tristan was with me, my motivation 
was increased several-fold. The previous year I had been enraptured by the 
beautiful places I had discovered on a hike through the Blue Mountains. Some 
of the secret glades, the ones that lay off the beaten path, had not been seen 
by human eyes for many years and I was left with the impression that only 
the early explorers had been there before me. They were places for a man to be 
alone with a boy like Tristan. I longed to find another of those secluded 
spots before it was too late in the day. I could imagine spending my first 
evening in the bush with Tristan. The thought excited me and I scanned the 
forest as we passed, hoping to find a place to stop for the night where 
special memories would be made.

>From eleven in the morning to four in the afternoon, less a half-hour break 
for lunch, and three ten-minute rest stops, Tristan carried his forty-five-
pound load like a trooper. There was no complaint as he followed beside me. 
Whenever I chanced to look at him, he merely grinned happily and plowed on 
enthusiastically. His wiry frame seemed unaffected by the humid heat and the 
weight on his back, although I noticed that he gradually slowed as the 
afternoon progressed. I reduced my own speed to match his and stopped more 
frequently to let him rest.

At times the bush parted and we crossed sand hills, a precursor to the Pacific 
Ocean that we glimpsed frequently as we approached. At such times, we felt the 
full force of the afternoon sun. After a long passage across a tea-tree dotted 
ridge, we dropped our packs and slumped onto the ground, leaned against our 
packs, and took a well- deserved break. I estimated that we had walked between 
ten and twelve miles and I pulled the map from the side pocket of my pack to 
check our location.

"I gotta pee," Tristan announced.

I ignored him for several seconds as I tried to get my bearings. The compass 
needle swung slowly, as if tired of the heat or unsure of which direction to 
point to. It seemed to point the way towards a small fold in the hill that was 
marked by a depression in the line of trees before it came to rest at magnetic 
north. It was perhaps half a mile ahead.

The map was not helpful beyond an indication of an erratic blue line of a 
stream and a small black square that could mean anything from a holiday 
cottage, a farm, or even a deserted ruin, the latter being more likely given 
the date at which the map had been prepared. Also, there was no road in the 
vicinity, suggesting that it was not a house. It looked promising as a place 
to stop for the evening if there was fresh water there.

I glanced up as I heard the sound of water dribbling onto the ground no more 
than a few feet away. I suppressed a smile as I gazed at him. Even the 
simple act of urination excited me, or perhaps it was the sight of Tristan's 
tiny penis, barely poking through the open slit in his shorts. It was an 
entirely natural thing to him to do and he exposed himself to me without a 
second thought. Indeed, the look on his face was as one of blissful relief 
from emptying his bladder as it was of innocent eroticism. After twelve days 
alone with Tristan, without his mother and Hannah around to keep us in 
check, I suspected that we would have few inhibitions. 

"What are you looking at?" Tristan demanded haughtily as he smiled cheekily. 
"Haven't you seen a guy pee before?"

"No! At least not an eleven-year-old boy with a beautiful dick like yours," 
I laughed. "Come here, sexy!"

Tristan smirked as he shook the last droplets away. He left his zipper open as 
he walked the two or three paces necessary to bring us together. Tristan 
Junior peeked out at me as he came to stand only a foot away from me. His 
penis could not be more than an inch long and fully half of that was his 
helmet-headed glans. It was a precious treasure, a perfect adornment for his 
superb, young body.

"You really think I got a nice dick?" Tristan blurted out self- consciously. 
"I hate being so small. My mum,..." He stopped suddenly and sighed loudly.

"What did your mum say, Tag?"

"It doesn't matter, Peter."

"Yes it does," I prompted. "I don't care that yours is small, I really like 
you the way you are and the size of your penis isn't important to me."

"She said,... well she said it was small because of what I have wrong with me, 
Peter. I'll always have a small one, won't I? It'll never be big like yours."

I nodded understandingly and wondered why the fetus that had eventually become 
the beautiful boy before me, had been affected by a condition that affects 
just one boy in a thousand. But that was exactly what Tristan was, one boy 
in a thousand, a hundred thousand, a million. I knew enough about him to be 
certain of that.

"It doesn't matter, Tag. No guy can change the size of his penis. We're all 
stuck with what we are born with. Some guys have ones that are bigger than 
average and there's an identical number who are smaller than average."

"Is yours bigger or smaller?"

"About average, I guess. I'm just an average kind of guy," I answered 
playfully, although uncertain as to what the average size of a man's penis 
was. I had read somewhere that it was in the region of six or seven inches. If 
so, I was in one of the higher percentiles.

"It's just too small," Tristan complained. "I can't even do it properly, you 
know, like rub it the normal way."

"The size doesn't matter," I began again.

He looked at me. "It's what I do with it that counts. At least that's what 
Alex said. If you really loved me then you would care whether I had a big 
one or a little one. You would love me for who I was, right?"

"Alex is absolutely right," I acknowledged. "I love you just the way you are."

I placed my hand on Tristan's knee. He was a scrawny thing. I felt his small 
kneecap as my fingers encircled his leg. Behind the knee his skin was soft and 
warm with a moistness that came from perspiration. My hand slid slowly down 
his smooth calf.

"You skin is so soft, Tag," I mused aloud. "You have nice legs,... no you have 
wonderful legs,.... and strong too. You've kept up with me nicely."

I glanced up and saw Tristan's proud smile as he basked in my affection. He 
needed my enthusiastic support to make up for the emotional distress of 
Klinefelter's Syndrome. 

"I'm starting to feel a bit tired," Tristan admitted. "The last hour was 
pretty hard."

"I was hard most of the day," I laughed. "Not just the last hour. Every time I 
look at you I get the biggest, stiffest erection."

"Because you think I'm sexy? You just want to stick him in my bum, don't you?" 
he asked teasingly.

"You got it, Tristan. I think you're incredibly sexy."

I brushed his thigh as my hand started its trip upward. His leg was smooth. He 
was not only without even the soft downy fuzz of a child, but his skin was 
softer than anything I had ever touched. It was so unlike Phan's leg that I 
could not take my hand away. My fingers stopped at the hem of his shorts. I 
wanted to go higher. 

The afternoon sun beat down on us through the dappled filter of the leaves 
above. Patterns of random light and shade danced across Tristan's thighs as 
I placed my hands on his narrow hips. My thumbs caressed the gentle bulge of 
his lower belly as it swelled down from his hips and led towards his crotch. 
Through his open zipper I could see his penis begin to grow. It lengthened 
as his blood rushed into it. It came to full erection during the few seconds 
that I was transfixed by the miracle of Tristan's burgeoning sexuality. 

"I'm gettin' one too," he tittered. "Like you."

Even though I had not seen any one since we had said our farewells to Anna 
Broadley, I still scanned the bush and the beach that we had just crossed. 
There was no one to be found and with trembling hands, I began to unfasten the 
belt buckle at Tristan's waist. He grinned cheekily.

"What are you doing, Peter?"

"What does it look like, Tag?"

"You're going to take my shorts off?"

"Not wrong, Tag! I'm going to take your underpants off as well."

"Why?" Tristan smirked as he saw the tent in his blue nylon briefs. 

"Because I want to. Because you can't have sex with your pants on."

Tristan giggled and his head swivelled around as he looked behind him. "You 
want to do IT here.? Someone might see us, Peter," he cautioned.

"No one's around to see us." I lifted the elastic waist-band of his briefs 
outward and over his rigid cock before slowly dragging down his slender, 
suntanned thighs. 

"Peter, you aren't jokin' are you?"

"No!"

"I guess I better get the K-Y out of my pack, huh," he chortled. "I'm going to 
need it by the sound of it."

"Either that, or I'm going to use spit."

"Should I get naked first?" He asked sheepishly.

"If you want. You're bare-assed and that's enough for what I have in mind
but I think I'd always prefer to see more of you instead of less."

Tristan raised his eyebrows temptingly, still uncertain whether I was 
teasing him or actually intending to do what I had said. Unconvinced he waited 
until I brought his briefs all the way to his feet. He lifted one foot as he 
balanced with his right hand on my shoulder and I tugged his shorts and 
underpants past his shoe. And then the other foot and for my purposes, Tristan 
was as naked as he needed to be. His tee-shirt came off as he stepped back. 
His thin arms lifted up and in a single graceful swoop, the vibrant blue shirt 
came off to reveal the lithe, well-defined abdomen of an eleven- year-old boy. 

I stared as Tristan held me entranced. Only his socks and shoes remained and I 
was truly able to appreciate his beautiful young body. In the cramped car my 
view had been limited and later in the evening, it had been rushed and the 
light from the overhead fixture could not compare with the golden sunshine 
that illuminated his glabrous flesh. His navel held my attention. In his flat, 
lean belly, his navel was a knot that both bulged outward and pulled into him. 
Neither outie, nor innie, it was flush with his stomach and partially 
covered by a thin fold of bronzed skin. 

I watched his thin chest rise and fall with each labored breath. His penis 
quivered expectantly, pulsing with a strong young heartbeat as Tristan 
became increasingly excited.

"Well, get the K-Y while I get naked too," I laughed as I fumbled at my waist.

Anticipating that something of this nature would occur at some point during 
the afternoon, I had placed the tube in a convenient location--one of the 
pockets on the side of Tristan's pack. He came back with it even before I 
had my shorts past my knees. By the time I had my clothes at my ankles Tristan 
had the top off and a big lump scooped out on his forefinger. He approached 
until he stood over my legs and grinned like a cheeky sprite as he placed 
his K-Y coated finger in front of my face, then callously moved it behind 
him as he continued to grin. He wiped his small finger between his cheeks 
and transferred as much as possible of the clear jelly to the vicinity of 
his anus. He was ready for me to do as I wished.

"How are we going to do this?" I teased. "How about you lie down in the 
grass?" No, the ants might have you for dinner. Hmmmm, let me think. Do you 
want to do it standing up? Not a good idea because you're not that tall. Any 
ideas Tristan?

"Me? We could go down to the beach but I don't want to get sand in there. 
Ummm,... I guess I could kneel down and you could get behind me," Tristan 
suggested admirably.

"I guess,... but,.... I,.... have a BETTER WAY!" 

I grabbed his legs and yanked him down. He tottered, struggling playfully 
before he lost his balance and fell into my lap. We ended up face to face, 
both breathing excitedly, both wanting to share a kiss as we had when we had 
taken our first shower together. As we studied each other, Tristan's lips 
pressed forward, puckering instinctively as his need became ever stronger. His 
lips brushed mine and I pulled him into me as my tongue surged forward and 
forced its way into his mouth. He kissed back urgently as he settled into my 
lap comfortably and secure in my embrace. I sucked his tongue into me and held 
it between my teeth as I grasped his small head tightly.

"You feel so hot, Tag" I whispered as we parted to breath normally. "You 
feel like you're burning up."

"This is ultimately awesome! I'm shaking all over. I want you in me again," 
Tristan moaned into my ear. 

"How?"

"Any way you want! I just want him in me, Peter," Tristan growled. "Now!" he 
added with emphasis.

I implemented my planned method with the same urgency that his stressed 
voice demanded. With my hands on his sides, one in each armpit I lifted up 
seventy pounds above me. My penis rose to the occasion, ready and willing to 
plunder the firm buttocks directly overhead. I lowered him, positioning him as 
he took the initiative of guiding my cock-head to its target. His legs 
braced and he leaned back against my knees as he felt the tip press into his 
anus.

"Yeahhhh!" he growled, now louder as his voice trembled with excitement. "I 
want him right there."

I could sense his enthusiasm as he pushed downward. Tristan grunted once as he 
shoved against me. I felt a distinct forceful squeeze over the head of my 
penis and then the heat quickly increased as it penetrated him. He gasped with 
the suddenness of my entry and then tried to pull away as his body 
involuntarily endeavored to reject me. But I held his shoulders firmly and 
within a few seconds he relaxed again. His leg muscles quivered as he 
hesitated. He crouched above me, his legs straddling my hips as he squatted. 
It was a balancing act as he waited, poised, eager, and wanting to feel my 
penis deeper inside him. He knew he should be patient for a few minutes 
until his muscular contractions ended but it was difficult to wait that long.

"You got it, honey-butt," I said with my mouth close to his ear. "It's 
inside you now, Tristan."

"Yeahhhh, I know," Tristan responded. "You always feel so big at first, 
until I get used to him,... It kind of hurts." He took a deep breath. "On 
the count of three, okay?"

I nodded and counted with him. His voice trembled as much as his slender 
body until the moment came. At one, Tristan filled his lungs with a deep, 
strong breath. His eyes closed tightly in anticipation of the pain he would 
feel as we reached two. At three, he strained with all his might. His 
sphincter, prepared to eject the empty contents of his bowel, strained down 
forcefully and opened and my cock rammed into him. One inch, then two, then 
three inches slid ramrod-stiff straight into his rectum. Tristan's eyes opened 
wide in amazement and upon discovery that my entry had been nearly painless.

"Wha,..." he began. "Ohhhhhh! Oh! Oh God! Awwwww!"

His moan was torn from his lungs. It came as my penis continued to push 
forward, momentarily grinding into his baby prostate before shoving it aside 
to slam into his bladder. His legs weakened and he dropped onto me, completely 
inserting all of my cock as he collapsed. It plunged full-length into him 
and I gripped his writhing body and lifted up with all my might. Perhaps I was 
too aggressive but my motion had the desired effect of bringing my pubis 
against his crack with a loud slap.

"Now," I gasped, "you have all of him in there, Tag."

He whimpered as his body struggled to adjust its internal dimensions and 
accept the unyielding presence of an adult penis that was lodged deep within 
his pelvis. His belly churned as his organs were displaced. There was sharp 
stabbing pain as my glans entered all the way until it wedged against his 
colon. It could go no further. He choked back a sob and swallowed bravely as 
tears began to form in his wide, panic-stricken eyes. A cry burst from his 
throat before it was truncated to a frightened gurgling noise. Several painful 
spasms cramped his tortured sphincter and then he groaned.

I held him with crushing strength as his panic faded. His body trembled 
erratically as muscular spasms returned again and again. He gasped and 
panted as he closed his eyes and waited for the misery to stop. Nearly two 
minutes passed before the miracle was upon us. I diverted Tristan's 
attention from his distress by gently caressing his chest and shoulders, 
occasionally rubbing the tiny points of his nipples. At some undefined and 
unrealized point, pain changed to pleasure and agony became delight. His 
eyes opened and joy was evident in the slow smile that appeared on his face.

"God, you feel soooo big."

"Does it hurt a lot, Tag?"

He shook his head slightly. "'s okay. Better now,... he's all the way in 
me,... so fast this time. I wasn't ready."

"I'm sorry. It seemed to go in so easily." I said apologetically. "It'll 
feel better in few more minutes. Just relax and it will stop hurting."

"It feels better already. It still hurts but mostly it feels weird. It's 
like I'm goin' to pee, I think any second now."

"Do you want me to take it out?" I asked gently. "I don't want to hurt you, 
Tag."

"It's not that bad. He just feels so big. Will you be angry if I pee on you?"

I grinned and shook my head. Already I could feel the pressure reducing as the 
last resistance of his boy's body was overcome. Carefully, indulgently, I 
flexed my cock so that it lifted inside Tristan's rectum and exerted its own 
small pressure on the sensitive walls of his rectum. Tristan's reaction came 
instantly as he gasped.

"Oh shit! Oh God! Oh! Don't doooo that!"

"Does it hurt?"

"I can't hold it back,.... ohhhhh, nooooo,.....I'm sorry."

Pale urine dribbled from the end of his little penis and splattered on my 
belly as Tristan watched in disgust and disbelief. In a few all-too-short 
years, he would ejaculate like Phan and his juvenile orgasm would be long 
forgotten as he spurted thick gobs of semen. But for now he responded to its 
over-stimulation in the only way that it was capable of when his immature body 
could take no more. Frantically he tried to stem the flow but short of 
squeezing the end of his penis, it was an involuntary release and his 
efforts succeeded only in reducing it to a slow trickle.

"It's okay, Tag. I don't mind," I said sincerely. 

As the last of his urine dripped out, I regretted that he had urinated only 
minutes earlier. My belly was wet with it and the sweet-sour odor wafted up 
between us. I wondered whether it was the result of orgasm, a release of fluid 
that signified his sexual climax. It certainly seemed to have affected his 
internal muscles. Within his tight, hot tube, I felt a wet looseness that 
had not been there before. Tristan noticed it as well.

"It doesn't hurt as much now." He smiled weakly. "Okay? On the count of 
three."

Exactly what Tristan intended to do on the count of three was unknown to me. 
Like before, he began by taking a deep, long breath. He nodded eagerly and 
raised his hips higher, then on three, he began to fuck himself. At first 
his movements were clumsy and inconsequential but after half-a-dozen well- 
placed strokes he began to undulate his pelvis. His rectum rotated and 
pulled on my cock as he moved rhythmically. Slowly he started to increase 
the length of his upward strokes, pulling away until several inches had been 
dragged reluctantly out of his fiery canal.

Sometime during the next few minutes I decided that K-Y was always going to be 
my lubricant of choice. Despite the fact that it quickly felt less like 
lubrication than a water-based jelly, K-Y greased his slippery flesh until 
it became a slimy, oozing hole that easily consumed my shaft. It was much 
better than either suntan oil or the oil from cooking a pig over an open fire.

It was the first time that Tristan took the active role (while I was awake) 
and it affected him dramatically. He rode me like a boy on an untamed 
stallion, jerking his hips back and forth as he worked my cock deep within 
him. He grinned ebulliently as my thick shaft stabbed, prodded, and pounded 
away into his increasingly loose flesh. He rode me right up to the minute 
preceding my orgasm. When I took over, Tristan's wide grin revealed the thrill 
he had obtained by taking the lead. I promised myself that we would repeat the 
experience as often as he wanted as we worked to the finish together.

With me thrusting up into his bottom at the same time as he punched 
downward, Tristan began to orgasm. We were fucking wildly as my penis plowed 
into the furrow between his small cheeks. He drove his body to accomplish wild 
gyrations, often almost yanking my cock-head out of him. Sometimes he moved 
too far and our union was broken. Frenzied efforts returned our wet suction as 
my penis was swiftly reinserted. My first spurts were extracted before I could 
stop him. I tried to hold back but resistance was impossible as his rectum 
gripped me in its overpowering heat. His insides twitched and he squeezed, 
wrenching my throbbing cock deep inside him. Another spurt was dragged out 
of me as I pulled him onto his back. I felt my penis lurch violently inside 
his bowel at it was repositioned. My penis jerked, evulsing semen into my 
stripling lover as he tottered over the edge and began to shudder 
convulsively. I wrapped my arms around his chest and hugged him tightly as his 
dry orgasm peaked and began to fade.

"That was wild," Tristan finally acknowledged in a broken whisper. "I 
thought,... I thought I was going to die. My butt is still shaking."

"You were incredible."

"Was I okay?" Tristan breathed. He gulped more air.

"You're wonderful. That may be the best fuck I've ever had. I think I'll 
have to adopt you, and call you Tristan Sayd from now on ."

"I'd like that. Only then I'd have to call you dad instead of Peter."

"I wouldn't mind calling you son," I said truthfully.

He grinned happily. "You could still call me Tag, too. If you wanted?"

Playfully, I cuffed his bare shoulder. But my fingers stayed on his smooth 
skin and became increasingly affectionate as I traced ever-widening circles 
over his chest and belly. He was sticky and hot, no longer the silky, warm boy 
of the early morning, but like me, he was flecked with beads of sweat and 
particles of grass and leaves. He was very alive despite his lethargy. Tristan 
smiled at me and sluggishly sighed as he sat up. His buttocks rested against 
my pelvis and fitted so neatly into my groin that he seemed to be designed for 
that purpose alone. We were joined the way that nature intended for us to be 
joined. Gently I began to massage his back and sides, moving with unhurried 
caresses as he squatted above me.

His small hand moved down between us with a languid slowness until his 
fingertips touched my penis where it exited from his anus. There was a space 
of several inches between Tristan's tiny sex organs and my penis but it was 
covered with slime that had formed between us. So positioned, my still- 
partially erect cock was contained in the innermost sanctum of the supine 
youngster. I could have remained on the grass like that all day.

But all good things have to come to an end eventually and we still needed to 
get back to the guest house before night. He sensed the need to dismount 
from his appointed perch as I shifted beneath him. With a playful smirk his 
fingers flicked at my shoulders, he leaned forward to kiss me, and impassively 
pulled away from my cock.

"You were wonderful," I sighed as he stood up on weakened legs above me.

"That was fun," Tristan said with a big grin. "I like being on top!"

"Is it more fun that being on the bottom?"

He giggled. "It's okay either way, just so he's in my bum. But you like 
being on top of me more, don't you?"

I nodded calmly. He extended a hand and grunted as he tried to pull me to my 
feet. But seventy pounds of pre-teen boy could not have lifted me. I came to 
my feet slowly. Sex with Tristan usually left me satisfied but this time he 
had a remarkable effect on me. I wanted to fuck him again, right then.

"Maybe we should do it my way now," I teased as I eyed Tristan's nearly 
naked body with a look that transcended the boundaries of human decency.

Tristan shrugged and smiled slightly as he casually inspected his rump by 
swiping his right hand between his buttocks. His fingers came away coated with 
the same greasy slime that matted my pubic hair.

"You sure made a real mess in my butt," he giggled. "I don't I'll ever be 
the same again."

"I know you won't! You better get used to it." He nodded agreeably and bent 
over to pick up his clothes. "Don't worry about getting dressed, Tag," I 
added.

"Huh?"

"There's no point in getting MY MESS all over YOUR underpants. And besides, we 
aren't going that far from here. Just over there, beyond those rocks, is where 
I think we can find a place do it again. And then we won't have to worry about 
anyone coming along and seeing us."

"You mean, uh, like I should stay like this? I'm almost naked, Peter."

"So! No one will see you. No one that is,... except me. And it's about time 
you got used to being naked. Besides, I thought you were used to being nude 
around your mom?"

"Yeah, but not like this," he giggled. "It's really gooey back there."

"Well get used to it Tag, because that's the way it's going to be from now on. 
I plan on keeping you naked and doing this as often as we want."

So with a shy but accepting grin, Tristan stayed the way he was and I helped 
him into his backpack. It was such an incongruous sight that it brought 
immediate laughter to both of us. Wearing only his tee-shirt, shoes, and 
socks, and carrying his shorts and underpants, Tristan was the 
quintessential boy. We walked side by side, keeping well into the trees in a 
delayed aftermath of excess inhibitions from our prior overexposure. Then, 
leaving the bush behind, we turned towards the beach and carefully picked 
our way between the rocks and scrub. Halfway up the beach I found the spot 
that I had been looking for. It was a beautiful place, full of the quiet 
solitude that we needed to fall hopelessly in love with each other.

Tristan took his pack off and we ambled down to the water, to an area where 
a rock ledge ran out into the breaking surf. The water was a meter deep 
close to the shore. We had time for a swim before putting up the tent and 
preparing dinner. I squatted and sampled the crystal-clear water with my hand. 
It was warm enough to swim. Tristan knelt down next to me and leaned forward 
as I settled back on my haunches and watched him splash. His little bottom was 
directed at me and his cheeks parted to expose his wide-open and very-inviting 
anus. It was still wet from our love. His distended opening was surrounded 
with a foamy paste, of K-Y and semen that had leaked out of him. His crack 
glistened with an oily sheen. He was very inviting and I felt my penis begin 
to stiffen again. Only ten minutes had passed and the urge was upon me 
again. I felt like a teenager again!

"All in good time," I mused aloud as I tried to control an urge that was all 
too persistent and fast getting out of control. "All in good time."

"What's all in good time?" Tristan chirped as he straightened up. He grinned 
cheekily. "I know what you're thinking! You're just a dirty old man, Peter!" 

"And what do you think I should do about it?" I teased.

"I know I said you could do it whenever you wanted to. And you do want to do 
IT, don't you, Peter?" Tristan laughed as he pointed at the erection rising 
between my legs. "At least HE wants to do IT!"

"I love you so much, Tag! I love you! I love you!" I laughed

"And I love you back!" Tristan said softly as he leaned up to kiss me.



THE END



Two years have passed since Tag and I celebrated our love. No one other than 
his family and one other person knows that we are lovers and that we share a 
bedroom every night. Instead, they think that I am happily married to his 
mother and that I am his step-father. However my vows were to Tristan and were 
for him alone as he stood beside me in the small chapel in Kings Cross. 
Other male couples have been married there before us, but Tristan is the first 
boy to stand proudly beside the man he loved. Tricia, Hannah, Alex, and 
Chris were behind us all the way. A boy like Tristan could ask for nothing 
more, and a man like me could know no greater happiness than loving Tristan 
Alexander Sayd.