Date: Mon, 20 Nov 2006 08:07:20 -0500 (EST) From: Herb Cat Subject: Rip 1: At the Beat Copyright 2006 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission. Please note: this story depicts oral and anal sex between a male adult and male minors. If this offends you or is illegal to publish in your jurisdiction, or you are under the age of 18, read no further. The characters, locations and incidents in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. As an author, I welcome feedback on my writing. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you. --- Rip loved Sunday mornings. He didn't have to do his classes with Demetrius. He didn't have soccer (oops, Futbal) practice. But best of all, his nanny had Sundays off and he could spend the whole day with Mom and Dad. Dr. Marcus Sloan and Dr. Andrea Sloan were both archeologists. This was their fourth season on the island of Naxos, in the Aegean Sea. Working together in the dig proved to be a mixed blessing. It meant that neither of them had to be left back in the states when the other traveled abroad for months at a time. They found their skills complemented each other well. And they both enjoyed the Grecian climate. However, with both of them at work, they had to leave Rip with someone for the day. They were fortunate to find old Cassandra the first year. She was efficient, caring, and full of good humor, and her fifty some years never prevented her from keeping up with Rip's rambunctious games. Rip liked her but of course missed his parents. Being gone for part of the school year back in America, the Sloans decided to make up for it by hiring a tutor. Demetrius was well worth his salary. Having studied at Syracuse University, his English was excellent. He knew how to help Rip with his math and science, and was introducing him to conversational Greek. Occasionally his partner, Alex, would drop by. Alex coached Rip's soccer (oops, Futbal) team. Having only turned nine that July, Rip loved being on Naxos. He had a lot of friends among the local boys. They made good-natured fun of his habit of calling the game "soccer" but none-the-less admired his excellent footwork. That was another reason Rip liked Sundays. The Sloans usually spent the day at the beach and all of Rip's friends were there as well with their families. Marcus parked the Plymouth just south of the beach and they climbed out. Rip jumped out of his shorts and ran buck naked down the beach to join his friends. "Rip sure has no embarrassment about playing on a nude beach, Andrea." "Of course not, why should he?" Andrea slipped out of her blouse and shorts, and grabbed the picnic basket. "Well, when I was Rip's age, I would have died if anyone had seen my little pecker." "Yeah, well, maybe Rip doesn't need to be ashamed of his." Andrea gave Marcus a loving punch to his biceps. "What are you saying? My dick is too small? It seemed big enough for you last night." "Yes, Honey. It was plenty big last night. Don't get paranoid." Marcus grabbed the blanket, umbrella, and beach bag and sauntered bare-assed with his wife toward the beautiful white sand. Occasionally, his eyes would follow some girl in her early twenties with perky tits and an inviting ass. He thought he was being discrete but nothing got past Andrea. "Great scenery here, right, Darling?" "Hey, you can't blame a guy for looking. I got hormones you know." "Yeah, well watch those hormones. You ain't wearing anything to disguise your excitement." Marcus moved the blanket to the front as they walked. "Ha, I guess you still don't want anyone seeing your little pecker." "Come on, Andy, give me a break." They spread the blanket on the sand and Marcus began erecting the umbrella, when a ball came bouncing toward them followed by four little boys, racing to get it, dicks bouncing madly. "Sorry, Mom, Sorry, Dad." Rip kicked the ball back up the beach and in a flash, the four little innocent asses were gone again. "I think it's great that Rip isn't growing up with the hangups you had, Mark. Look at him with his buddies, free as a bird, not a care in the world. That's the way life should be. Come on, let's get some rays. We've been down in that hole all week." "It's sunny out at the dig site." "Yeah, but it doesn't do a hell of a lot of good when you're dressed head to toe in work clothes." Andrea grabbed the lotion and began lubing her arms and legs. Marcus took the tube from her and went to work on her back. .oOo. "Marcus, Honey, we've been in the sun twenty minutes now. You don't want to burn." "Yes, Mother!" "Hey, big boy. I'm just looking out for you. I'd like to keep you around a few years." "Oh, really? I thought maybe you had a young Greek toy boy waiting in the wings." "Well, maybe I do. Anyway, I'm going to lay under the umbrella. You do what you want." "OK, I'll join you in a minute, Andrea. I'm just going to check up on Rip first." "Worry wart." .oOo. "Hi, Rip. You guys finished playing?" "Just taking a rest, Dad. Soc had to run home to feed his dog. The other guys are taking a leak. Or, like Mom says, urinating." Sloan smiled at this observation on his wife's futile campaign to get everyone to use clinical language. "Then you wanta walk down the beach with me, Son?" "Sure Dad." A good bonding moment. Father and son, totally naked, nothing to hide from each other, discussing the important issues of the day: what kind of dog Soc has, who is the best goalie, how terrible Cassandra's cooking is. Of course these discussions were occasionally punctuated by either a paternal or filial fart which provided both with typical masculine amusement. "Dad, does Mom ever have farts?" "No Son, she has flatulence." Rip laughed with his Dad. "Hey Marcus!" Father and son turned to the source of the call. "Oh, hi, Jeremy." A man, slightly older than Sloan, came jogging up. His body was covered in graying hair which in turn was covered in glistening sweat. At Rip's eye level, his attention was caught by the sweat dripping from the stranger's dick, a dick even more ample than his Dad's. "Rip, this is Dr. Wilson. He works at the dig with Mommy and me." The stranger extended his hand, -- "Hi, Son." -- and Rip cautiously shook it. "So, Jeremy, I haven't seen you here before." "Yeah, my first time here. I'd heard there were a lot of nude beaches on the island, but the wife wasn't keen on it. She figured it would all be fags and pervs." Marcus winced a little at his colleague's coarse speech. He didn't like Rip hearing slurs against someone. "Well, as you can see, it's all normal folks here. Family folks. We come nearly every Sunday and enjoy it. The water is the best." "So, where's the gorgeous Andrea?" Marcus winced again. At the work site, everyone was accustomed to Jeremy's flirtatious sexual banter, but he wasn't sure Rip's ears should be hearing it. Marcus indicated the umbrella. "Oh, yeah, I see her now. Laying down. Too bad I can't see her melons." Marcus gave Jeremy a nod toward his son hoping the barbarian would get the message and tone it down. Wilson did look down at the boy. "Say there, Rick. How old are you?" This time Rip frowned. "It's Rip! Not Rick! It's short for Euripides." Wilson burst out laughing! "I'm sorry, Son. I'll remember next time. Eu-rip-id-es. Like, if you rippa dese pants, you looka da cock!" Sloan couldn't help smirking at that one. Something about his friend's crude humor always amused him. Rip however wasn't sure he liked his name ridiculed. "I'm not wearing no pants." "What? Well, I'll be damned, you sure ain't, Rip!" Then patting his hips and looking shocked, "Hey, I just noticed, I ain't got no pants either!" That's all it took. Rip started giggling and knew he couldn't be mad at his dad's silly friend. "Nine!" "What?" "Nine. You asked me how old I was. I'm nine." Jeremy looked at Marcus who confirmed it. "Yep, he's nine, going on thirty." "Mr. Wilson? Er, I mean Dr. Wilson." "Call me Jer, Rip, short for Jeremy." "You wrote that book about boats didn't you?" Wilson dropped his jaw and stared at Rip's dad, who explained, "Yes, Rip, Dr. Jeremy Wilson wrote that book we have. He's the world's expert on Phoenician Shipping." Then turning to Wilson, "Rip is an avid reader. Reads anything he can get his hands on, and in our house that mainly means archeology texts." "Well, now, Rip Sir. It is a pleasure to meet a fan." Once more they shook hands. Rip stared up at the men but the conversation now turned to business. "So, Marcus, that was quite a shard we uncovered yesterday. What do you think it had written on it?" "I haven't had a chance to work on it, Jeremy. But it's probably just a grocery list or something. Even that, though, would prove interesting. The writing is quite old. Maybe 4th century." "Yeah, I noticed that too. And not your typical script. Maybe a local dialect. I'll be real interested in what you . . . What The Fuck!!!" Marcus looked down to see his son quickly pulling his hand away from his friend's crotch. For a moment the boy stared up at the men, frozen. His eyes began to water and he turned and raced back to his mother. "Gee, Jeremy, I'm sorry. I don't know what got into the boy." "Hey, man, don't worry. I'm sorry I yelled like that." "Of course you yelled. He had no business grabbing your dick." "Well, he didn't actually, I mean, I was just surprised is all." Jeremy gave his tool a little manual inspection. "See, it's still all there, Mark. No harm done. Hey, don't blame the boy. This is a fine piece of hardware. A lot of folks want to get their hands on it. Mainly of the female persuasion though." "No, I mean it, Rip shouldn't be doing that. I'll have a word with him. Straighten him out." "Please don't do anything . . . " But Sloan was already heading back to his wife and son. Speaking to no one in particular, Sloan began to verbalize his thoughts. "What the hell possessed Rip to go touching another man's private parts. I tell you one thing, this is the last time we go to a nude beach. Where did he learn to do that? Demetrius, I bet, put him up to it. The homo. No telling what they've been doing every day. Some lessons, yeah. He's probably just like Andy's brother. The pedophile." By the time he reached the blanket, Andrea was sitting up and glaring at him. Rip seemed to have calmed down enough to join his friends out in the water. But his father was not calm at all. "That's it, Andrea. We're getting rid of the tutor. And we're not coming here any more. And I don't want to hear any more talk about visiting your brother. Come on, pack up, we're going home." "Mark," she said quietly. "What?!" "Well, first of all, you're angry." "Damn right I am." "And second, you're wagging your penis right in my face." "Oh, sorry." He plopped down on the blanket beside his wife. "It's just I'm so fucking mad." "Rip was very upset. He came racing back hear, bawling his head off. He just sat in my arms and sucked his thumb, and couldn't figure out what he'd done wrong." "I'll tell you what he did. You won't believe it. He grabbed Wilson's dick. That's what he did." "No, he didn't." "What? He sure did. You weren't there. I saw it." "No, honey, he didn't. All he did was pet Wilson's scrotum." "Same thing! Anyway, how do you know? You weren't there!" "I know." "I'm sure that Demetrius has been teaching the kid this stuff." "No, he didn't" "Oh, yeah, everyone knows he's gay. That's what he did. He's teaching our son to be gay." "No." "What do you mean, No. Who else taught him then? You tell me who taught him to go touch another man's nuts like that? Who? "You did." "What?! What the fuck are you talking about." "Settle down, Mark, and listen. Let me explain. Rip said he was standing there looking at Wilson's cock. I wish the kid would say penis. Anyway, he remembered the article you wrote." "What article?" "The one about the urn we uncovered our first season on Naxos. It depicted a youth between two men. The one man had his hand on the boy's shoulder seemingly encouraging him to fondle the other man." "Yes, of course, but it was just a preliminary study. Rip read that article?" "Of course, Mark. He reads everything. He read that you speculated the boy was an eromenos, and his erastes was instructing him in common courtesy. You compared the Naxos urn to other pottery like the amphora in Munich. Remember? Rip was just trying to be polite to Dr. Wilson, to do a nice thing." "Yeah, but he should learn nowadays you don't walk up to perfect strangers and grab their dicks." "It wasn't a stranger. Rip knew Jeremy was your friend. He watched you laugh at his jokes. He even remembered Jeremy's book on boats. Rip didn't want to insult your friend, Mark." "If he still IS a friend. He probably figures we're raising a pervert." "We are not, Honey. We're raising a caring, loving, gentle, open-minded young man. And we're not going to change a thing. We're not going to fire the tutor. And we're not going to stop coming to the beach. But you know what you are going to do?" "What?" "You're going to talk to Rip and let him know you think he did a very nice thing." "What?!" "You heard me." .oOo. By evening, Mark had cooled down and had even found it in himself to tell Rip he was sorry. He tried to explain that in modern days, men and boys don't do things the same as back in ancient Greece. "I wish I lived back then, Dad." "Really?" "Well, no, 'cause if I did I wouldn't have you and Mom for my parents, and I love you guys lots." "We love you too. But you know what, it would be cool if we all lived back then, right?" "Yeah." .oOo. The next day at the dig, Marcus had a talk with Jeremy and explained what motivated his son. "Shit, that is so fuckin' sweet, Man. I feel damn sorry I yelled at the kid." "Well, I'd yell too if suddenly I felt fingers on my nuts." "Yeah, I was surprised, but guess what, Marky, it actually felt pretty neat. Your boy has a real touch!" "Get off it!!" "I mean it."