Date: Thu, 3 Jul 2003 23:45:15 -0700 (PDT)
From: Wishus Teglin
Subject: Stupid Johnny, chapter 9 (M/b)

Stupid Johnny
A Boylove Romance

Chapter Nine

by Teglin
with the invaluable assistance of  Michael and Kallen

Dedication:

Once upon a time, a friend of mine named Michael was driving along a
country road in his native Poland, and came upon a ragamuffin of a little
boy, dressed in tatters, struggling all alone to push a cart much too big
for him.  Looking miserable, hungry, cold.

It was one of those moments - we all have them - moments we look back on
with such great regret.  Because Michael wanted to stop.  He wanted to talk
with the boy, see if he was ok, if he could use some food, or perhaps a
helping hand, or just a kind word.  But he didn't stop.

Why didn't he stop?  Why don't we all stop, in moments like that?  Why do
we let convention, or fear, or doubt, or hurry, or sometimes just plain
selfishness keep us from meeting the moment?

Well, Michael helped me write this story.  It's all about what might have
been.  It's dedicated to that little boy on the roadside.  And every other
boy anywhere in the world who might someday need one of us to stop ... just
for him.

As always, this story is also dedicated to Ganymede.  May it be worthy of him.

Copyright 2003 by Teglin.  You may freely copy this boylove romance and
distribute it.  Please have the courtesy not to alter it in any way.


WARNING:

This boylove romance contains descriptions of sexual acts between a man and
a minor boy.  Their sexual relationship is very important to the story, as
part of their love-making, but it is their spiritual relationship that I
wanted to explore even more, as the very essence of boylove.

If this story is illegal where you are, or for your age, or the concept of
a man/boy romantic relationship offends you, don't read further.


Glossary:


Jasio  =  Yasho
jasnie panie = yashnee pahnee (formal mode of address, meaning `my lord`)
jasnie panicz - yashnee pahneetch (less formal, referring to a boy, meaning
`young lord`)
kochany paniczu - ko-ha-ny  pahneetchu (familiar, to a boy, `beloved lord`
or `little lord`)
pani, pana = pahnee, pahnah (noble addressing a servant woman/man)
Straznik Drogi - Strashneek Drowgee (Guardian of the Way)
Podhorowski = pod-ho-rouskee
Piotr Ostoja  =  Pyoter Ostoya
Leon Koczurba  = Le-own Kotschurba
Beskidy = Beskeedy
Jodlowka  = Yodlovka
Rzeszow = Dgeshow
Polska = Powlska
Misiu = Meeshoo
babciu = bubshoo
siusiak = shu-shak (pronounced softly, tenderly - a boylover`s most loving
word for a boy`s penis)
moj chlopczyk = moi hlopsik (my boy)
eremenos = beloved of the man
erastes = beloved of the boy
Pan = respectful address to a man
Pani = respectful address to a woman

Chapter Nine

Grecka Droga
Beskidy Mountains
Rzeszow Administrative District, Poland
September 15, 1959  4:16 PM


Jasio jumped up for the hundredth time since we got into the carriage,
leveraging himself up off the seat, his narrow shoulders high and flared
back.  With his left hand spread wide, he stiff-armed my thigh, using me as
his prop.  For the hundredth time I flinched and squirmed as he narrowly
missed smashing his palm against the head of my still unrepentant and
sorely neglected dick.  With his right hand, he gripped the leather padding
of the carriage frame, straining to lift his own slight frame up high
enough to get a good look around the old woman who sat opposite us.

All his bobbing up and down, the constant pressure on my dick, the very
motion of the carriage, threatened to make me cream right in front of the
old woman, right in my pants.  It certainly didn't help that I couldn't
take my eyes off him, that I couldn't stop staring at his bottom, so tight
within his sailor shorts, that I couldn't help but smell him, feel him,
touch him!  But this boy was too excited to realize the exquisite torture
he was putting me through.

"She said he's my servant, " he whispered and nodded towards the back of
the driver, in the low seat in front of us.  Then he giggled nervously,
softly, as if to declare anything too loudly might dispell the fantasy of
this moment.  The clop-clop of the horse's hooves was muffled, the creak of
learther just hinted at the strain as we drove up the path, the low rumble
of the spoked wheels was but an undercurrent, barely discernible.  Still
they threatened to drown out Jasio's hushed wonder.

"Yes, she did," I answered just as softly, feeling much the same as he did.
Believing, but at the same time hardly daring to believe.

Neither of us wanted to disturb the old woman, who seemed to have nodded
off as soon as we got into the carriage.  She sat with her eyes closed, the
weight of both her hands on the knob of her cane.  Not for the first time I
wondered if she were a witch, and that cane some kind of magical staff.  I
knew her hardly at all, but I knew her enough to wonder if she were indeed
asleep.

"She said this carriage is mine, too," Jasio said a bit louder.

"I guess ... I suppose it is yours, Misiu."

"And the horses?"

I could only shrug, and speculate.  "They would have to be, I guess.  She
said you had a carriage house, this carriage, servants.  She said you had a
... a lodge.  A house up there, somewhere," I pointed up through the trees.
The two gray and white speckled horses were pulling hard against their
harness to get our carriage up the mountain road.

I wondered as he did, but none of it really mattered to me right now.  I
could just as well, just as gladly, close my eyes and remember Jasio's lips
against mine, remember his words of love, answering mine.  Just moments
ago, I held him in my arms, knowing that he was as much mine as I was his.

He sat back down in the soft cushion of our carriage seat, pressing his
body against mine, grabbing my arm with both his hands now.

"Can you believe it, Piotrek?" he asked his voice rising in a trill, his
excitement almost overcoming him.

I felt him shiver.  He just had to let it all out, and I had to come out of
my boy-induced fog to join him in his glee.

"I do believe it, Jasio.  She said everything here is yours."

"The land - these mountains?" he let go of me long enough to point up at
the steep mountain slopes that rose beyond the tree tops.  They had closed
in on us now, although not so much that the afternoon sun was blocked out.
The valley we rode up was no more than a 100 meters across at the base.
Off to our left, the creek was flowing even more swiftly - one continuous
cascade.

"As much as anyone can own these mountains, I think you must."

"The trees ... that tree?"

"Yes."

"And that one?"

"Certainly."

"And that one, and ...," suddenly he turned his head and gave me the coyest
look, and his hand darted to really grab my dick this time, grasping it
within the fabric of my pants, and squeezing it hard.  "And this tall one,
Piotrek?"

"Aghhhhh!  I squirmed in my seat, and tried to hush my outcry.  The old
woman had seen me erect by now a lot more than I wanted, but still it would
be embarrassing if she witnessed this kind of play.  I had tried to hide my
condition from the carriage driver.

Jasio jumped back and giggled again, quieter, tentatively - a timid little
exclamation.  He grew silent, and scooted back in his seat, his head
lowered.  He was looking at me though, from under his brow.  I think he was
taken aback by his own daring, and didn't know just what to expect from me.
He glanced across at our sleeping companion, then back at me.

"Wow, you ... surprised me, little one," I said softly, "but yeah, I can
safely say that you especially own that ... this one."  I nodded down at my
raging dick.

"S-sorry, Piotrek. I just ... I got excited."

"I could tell," I answered, raising my brow, smirking at him.  "I'm glad
you really like owning all these ... ummh ... trees."  I reached out to
take his hand, and brought it back to my crotch, placing his fingers
directly upon my hardened rod.  "This one will always be yours."

He growled, lowly.  It was almost like a kitten purring - an animal-like
reaction from deep within him. His whole body seemed to come alive, his
eyes opened wide as he stared down at my long-suffering penis.  His hand
took over, rubbing the full length of it.  "What's this, Piotrek?"

I managed to take a breath, and to look down.  He was thumbing the very tip
of my dick, mercilessly mashing the tender flesh of my glans beneath the
rough fabric of my pants.  It was wet there - a darker spot was growing.
My leaking tool had been too long ignored.  Jasio had sucked me less than
an hour ago, but he had certainly not drained me dry.  Now the attention he
was giving to my straining member had triggered a flood.

"Uh ... it's ... you're going to make .... me cum again, Misiu ...," I
whispered hoarsely, "if you keep that ... up!"

Again, he gave me that tentative giggle, still feeling his way, seeming to
be unsure of his own reaction, not trusting himself, or me.  So, very
slowly he withdrew his hand, whispering softly, "then I better stop
... touching it, huh?  For now?"

That last made my already pounding heart race - to think that he wanted to
hold me down there, that he was feeling things, that he was beginning to
sense in himself a need for me.  "Yes, but ... just for now, Misiu," I
uttered the words as softly as I could, wanting him to feel my own need.

He pulled his hand onto the cushion, but then immediately shifted again in
his seat, turning his whole body to face me, sitting on the very edge.  He
looked at me, his mouth open, red lips pursed - he sat poised - thinking
hard about something, wanting to say something.  His deep brown eyes
searched mine, searched my face, and whatever struggle was going on in that
mind of his, he made his decision.  He leaned over.  I was mesmerized - no
doubt my mouth hung open too.  I was paralyzed, watching him move towards
me, watching as he lifted himself enough to place his lips right up against
my ear.  Whispering, wisps of air from his lips sending shivers through me,
"You mustn`t cum now, Piotrek.  I promise, I'll ... I want to do it again,
with you, ok?  Later?  Like before, maybe?  With my mouth?"

I swear I almost did cum at that instant.  The very thought that he wanted
it, the feel of his being, of his lips, of his breath, the halting way he
said it, so filled with his awakening to me - everything about this boy
combined to make me almost swoon.

What we had shared back at the gatehouse was still with us.  Jasio was MY
little boy.  He could be jumping up and down in the carriage, trying to
grasp all the changes in his life, but even in the midst of all these
wonders, he held on to me.  For him, as well as me, that fact that we were
now together was more important than anything else.


------------------


Jasio kissed the ear into which he had just whispered his promise, and sat
back down next to his man, holding tightly to Piotrek's arm.

He had never been happier, never felt more alive, in all his days, than he
did right now.  A day ago he had wanted to end everything.  Now he knew
that every moment he had spent in his life up to now was just the
beginning.

With a self-satisfied sigh of utter peace he snaked his left arm beneath
Piotrek's and rested his hand again upon the man's penis.  He contented
himself with just resting it there, knowing that to do more might make
Piotrek go over the edge.

He let the colors wash over him, hardly seeing them for the moment.  Green
of tall pines, blue and white of clouds so high, crystal clear of air so
clean, solid the feel of his man - all were a part of the world that he
owned.

The old woman kept saying it.  Piotrek believed it.  But it wasn't until
the carriage man opened the door and stood aside, his head held down
deferentially, that Jasio could truly accept it.

He had a name!  And it wasn't Glupi Jasio.

Jan Podhorowski.  Paniczu.  Kochany Paniczu?

Misiu!

More than all those new names.  He had a being!  A day ago, he was an ant.
Worse than an ant.  He was dirt.  Worse than dirt, he was mud - too low to
go through even a farmer's door.  Turned away.  Brushed aside.  Refused.

Now he had Piotrek.  And an identity.  They said he was heir to all this.
What that really meant, was that he was connected to all. Everything about
him?!  He was with people who cared about him.  He could see it in the old
woman's eyes, every time she spoke to him - she cared about him.  He saw it
in the way this new man had bowed to him, and held the carriage door open.
With a smile on his face!

He saw it every time he looked in Piotrek`s eyes, and for the first time
understood what it meant to be loved.  He knew it every time he saw
Piotrek's siusiak, every time he saw the man's massive penis pushing so
hard, as if to explode from his pants.  Piotrek had been shocked just now,
when he grabbed that mighty dick, and claimed it.

"All these trees are mine, Piotrek?  Even this one?"  And he had reached
right between his man's legs, and grasped his dick.  He had never done
anything like that ever before.  Never would he have even dreamed of doing
it with Leon.  But here, now, with all the world proclaimed to be his, he
reached out for the one thing that was the most important to him.  Holding
Piotrek was like ... it was like ... admitting, like accepting, that this
was all true, that Glupi Jasio was no more.

Perhaps ... perhaps Glupi Jasio never had been.

All those times they made fun of him.  All those times they wouldn't let
him play.  Or wouldn't let him build.  Or not even think.  All those time
he wasn't allowed to stay.  To sleep in a warm bed. To sit around the
fireplace.  To listen to the stories.

To eat.

Because he was Glupi Jasio.

He had never understood that.  He never could figure out what was wrong
with himself.  There didn't seem to be anything wrong.  He looked like the
others.  He had all his hands, arms, legs, feet, teeth, ears.  He liked the
same things they liked.  He was good at the things they did.  He could make
things.  Things they never even thought of.  He was a good boy.  He worked
hard.

He had never been Stupid Johnny!

That's why he couldn't help but jump up and down now.  That's why he
couldn't help but ask all these questions.  That's why he couldn't help but
smile when the old woman barked at him.  That's why he wanted to sit so
close to Piotrek.  That's why he had grabbed the man's siusiak!

And they all understood too!

He WAS Jan, the son of Anton.  He had his own father.  He had his own
mother.  He had ... he had ... a home!  People!  Piotrek!




-------------------------------------------------


Perhaps I moaned too loud when Jasio put has hand back on my aching dick.
Too loud for our companion, anyway.  "Plenty of time for all that later,
you two," the old woman's burly voice came like a shot to the both of us.
She was glaring down at Jasio's hand over my turgid penis.  The boy jerked
back upright in his seat, alert again to her presence.  But he giggled,
seeing her stern visage.  I don't think he was any longer afraid of the old
battle-axe.

"Sorry, Babciu," he said meekly, but one glance told me he didn't really
mean it.  He was smiling across at her sheepishly, his head down, but his
eyes open and watching.

"Never you mind, Paniczu," she answered him tenderly.  "Boy's can't be
blamed if their men are constantly pawing at them."

"Wha - but ...!" I started to protest.

"Try to keep your ... energies ... in check for a while longer, Comrade
Ostoja.  I'm sure all the servants will delight at watching a man in heat
after his boy at the Straznik Drogi again, after all these years, but at
least let us make the introductions first."

I think Jasio would have collapsed back in his laughter, and he almost did,
but he was just too excited by the newness of everything about us.

"More servants?" he asked of her, again scooting to the very edge of the
cushion, looking like he was poised to start his jumping up and down again.

"Oh yes, you have your house manager, of course, the butler, your own
personal hand-maiden, a cook.  And then your Piotrek will have his
man-servant, too, and ...."

"All those people will ... will want to help ... to take care of me?"

"Yes, indeed.  Each one of them will consider it an honor to serve a
Podhorowski again, and especially you, Kochany Paniczu.  They will take
care of you and your house an ....

"But whatever will I do when ... I mean ... what if Leon or the others find
out.  Will they ...."

"Neither Leon Koczurba nor any of the other farmers on Jadlowka, nor anyone
else in this world, can touch you here, Paniczu," the old woman pronounced.
"What you will do, is partly up to you.  Partly a matter of who you are,"
she said firmly.  And then lower, but seeming to contradict what she had
just said, she added, "and partly what you must do, because of what you
are, Kochany Paniczu."  She bowed her head towards him, respect and
something akin to awe showing in her bearing.  "You are a very important
personage, Master Podhorowski.  Important to a great many people who will
see to it that all the Leons of this world can never touch you again.
After tonight."

"What do you mean, after tonight?" I asked.  "Is Jan in some kind of
immediate danger?  Today?  Tonight?"

"As I said, Captain Rudenko advises that you return to Jadlowka tonight,
before ...." she stopped in mid-sentence, seeming to suddenly become aware
of something in our surroundings.  We were just passing a huge boulder
beside the road.  She glanced at it, and half-turned in her seat, but
quickly gave up on any attempt to look back over her shoulder.

"Ready yourselves."  And with those words she settled back again in her
seat, and scanned our faces with a look of smug satisfaction.

It almost sounded like a warning, but I didn't sense any danger.  With
Jasio jumping about, barely suppressing his glee, with the sun shining down
upon our open carriage, warming us against the Fall air, with the very
beauty and grandeur of this narrowing mountain passage leading higher and
higher up - with a new memory, of my boy's avowal of his love for me - I
could feel no fear.

I looked at the boulder that had seemed to trigger the woman`s sudden
interest, and felt my heartbeat quicken instantly.  It was huge, sitting
like a sentinel next to the road and inscribed with exactly the same kind
of symbols that stood upon the rock face along the King's Way!

Jasio saw them too.  "Look at those mark ...." he started to exclaim,
pointing at the massive boulder, but he too stopped in mid-sentence, just
like the old woman.  Bewildered, I followed the sudden shift of his arm,
his finger pointing stiffly forward, beyond the carriage.  His jaw had
dropped open.  He looked frozen in time.

Time might well have stood still.  As I followed Jasio's gaze, and turned
my head to peer up the road, I believe my jaw must have fallen slack too.
It was one of those moments that I would recollect at some later point, and
wonder at all the many thoughts that suddenly raced through my mind, all
compressed in less time than it might take to breathe.

The road had just turned and was rising to surmount a crest.  The tall
trees on each side of the road rose too.  Towering.  Majestic.  And framed
by them: just the crenellated rooftop of what must be Jasio's Lodge.

Suddenly time must have in fact reversed course.  To another century,
certainly to another age - when there were such things as Counts, and
Princes, and ... castles ....

Surely there can be majesty in many things.  And so with Jasio's 'lodge.'
The edifice grew right up out of the ground as we rode higher and higher.
Our perspective had suddenly foreshortened.  The trees, the rising swell of
the mountainside - all had contributed to deceive us - for it was a ... a
mansion, a palace - anything but a mere lodge.  And yet, we both knew that
this was our destination, Jasio's home, the mountain retreat that the old
woman had spoken of.  It could only have been called a mere lodge in the
minds of kings ... or in the minds of the great and noble Podhorowskis of
old, princes in all but title.  I looked in awe from the mansion to the boy
who would now claim it, and felt in the presence of even more majesty.
There were wonders to behold in he who would grace this castle before us.
Innocent little boy.  Wise and thoughtful boy.  Hurt yet sensitive boy.
Found boy.  New boy.  Moj chlopczyk!

He glanced up at me then and I felt an electric current course between us.
The Straznik Drogi was the conductor of that force, drawing us too it like
a powerful magnet. We held onto each other, and as one turned our gaze
towards our goal.

Or dirt carriage-road, no less than the trees and the mountains, had
deceived us too, because as it crested the rise leading up to the castle,
and leveled out, it opened upon a broad, finely-paved courtyard.  Cobbles
suddenly resounded under the feet of the horses.  Each stone was of the
same golden-sheened granite as the roadside boulder - the same native stone
had been used in building the great mansion itself.  The very air shimmered
- every molecule seemed a prism, dazzling us with the bright glare from sun
and stone.  The plaza stretched out before us all the way to the walls of
the great structure.  Empty.  Waiting.

Empty for many years, waiting for just as long, for this moment.

The Straznik Drogi!

It looked every bit the Guardian of the Way - of this Way that we had come
- and what of The Way we had pledged to travel?  It rose like part of the
mountanside, no less a part of the very earth than the outcropping of rocks
and crags that threatened to plunge down upon us.  Indeed, we must be
nearing the very source of the Grecka Droga's waters, because the span
between the mountain walls suddenly narrowed even more, and occupying that
entire span was Jasio's 'lodge.'  Behind it, the forest primeval seemed to
close in, the walls of the mountains seemed to join.

The splashing mountain stream that had accompanied us, running along beside
us ever since I had turned onto the road leading to the Grecka Droga,
surely saw it's source here, in a fountain, built right up against the
slope off to our left.  The pool spilled about the feet of two figures -
one small - a boy - the other a man ... I suddenly felt dizzied again,
because I knew instantly who that man was.  The boy's man!  It could have
been me Of course the boy was Jasio The two of us - the two figures - were
standing on opposite sides of the half-circle enclosure of the fountain,
seeming to be just stepping down into the waters, reaching out for each
other.  Just like Jasio and I had stepped into each others arms those
precious moments just past.

The overflow from the fountain washed down like thin sheets of glass all
around the enclosing pool, the cascades joining, funneled then, to start on
their way down the mountain valley.  Either the stream had its source in
the fountain, or it was tunneled and channeled beneath the very foundation
of the palace, because there was no room on either side of the structure -
it abutted right up against naked stone outcroppings, as if sitting like a
great wall between us and whatever lay up there, upon that mountain ....

I felt a sudden, cool wash of air pour down from that looming, impenetrable
prospect - right down from those dark green treetops, perhaps from the very
heart of ancient groves - right across the barrier formed by the Straznik
Drogi, right across the expanse of the courtyard.  It was almost glacial in
it`s purity, breathing of lofty and frozen places, off an invigorating
quality that excited our spirits rather than chilling them.  I felt Jasio's
grasp upon my arm tighten, but I knew it wasn't in fear.  His whole body
stiffened against me, but only because he shared in my own sudden
awareness.

We had arrived.  The twisted and convoluted paths of our lives had led us
together, and our path together had led us to this place.

The shoed hooves of the horses clip-clopped on the cobbles of the
courtyard, and our carriage lurched, to level out.  At that moment, as if
they had been awaiting us, a group of men and women trooped out from an
arched driveway, at the far right end of the building.  They hurried, with
excited glances our way, down along the face of the palace to take up
places in two rows leading up to the portico.  The were all wearing much
the same livery as our driver - formal black vest and breeches, white
shirt, or formal black dress with white blouse.

As we approached, it was like entering into a fairy tale.  The attire of
the servants, the classical lines of the palace, this enchanted hideaway so
much a part of the very mountains that surrounded us - it was all out of
time, other-worldly, untouched, unsullied, unchanged by the years of war
and oppression that the rest of Poland had suffered.  Certainly there was
no trace of the concrete and blockhouse imprint of my own world.

Jasio drew into me even closer as the carriage made a wide turn to approach
the grand entranceway.  It was apparent to both of us that we were going to
stop right at the foot of the steps and be forced to ascend them between
the gauntlet of servants.  It was a daunting prospect.  They were all doing
their best to stand stiffly and formally, but their very presence and their
ill-concealed interest in the two of us was something we hadn't been
prepared for.  I could hardly imagine what must be going through Jasio's
mind, to be treated like this after so many years of being more used to the
role of an outcast.  He sat stiffly erect on the edge of our seat, but like
me, he was having trouble settling his gaze on any one thing - the
servants, the palace, the overawing mountains - they all claimed part of
our attention.

The lodge - Jasio's palace - hung over us.  It was an imposing structure,
two stories, with arched windows lining both floors all the way along the
facade - perhaps ten windows in either direction from the entranceway.
There were columns on either side of the entrance, smaller decorative ones
on either side of each window, and the doorway, like the driveway, was
arched.

I felt like shying back against the far side of the carriage, and taking
Jasio with me, but the old woman had other ideas.  As the carriage drew to
a halt, she stirred herself from her seat, scooted forward holding both her
hands atop her cane, and in a voice vibrant with her emotion said, "Welcome
home, Kochany Paniczu.  The Straznik Drogi, and all who serve you here,
awaits you."

Thank goodness she was there, otherwise I don't think either Jasio or I
would have had the presence of mind to know that everyone was waiting for
us.  The footman had already opened the door to the carriage, but we just
sat there looking from the old woman to the expectant faces of the servants
to the imposing precipice that towered over us - rising like one piece -
the palace, the giant fir trees behind it, the massive mountain wall.
Wisps of fine white clouds, like streamers, floated across the slopes - the
only motion in what must have been a centuries old setting.  I felt
dizzied, my mind whirling with visions of other carriages, other Lords
Podhorowski, arriving to this self-same moment at their mountain retreat.

"Help an old woman up, would you, Paniczu?"  Once again the old woman's
voice brought us back to the now.  Jasio jumped up instantly to take her
outstretched hand.  He braced his feet against the swaying floor of our
carriage, and hoisted her up.  I dumbly began to get up, too late to help,
too stunned to do much of anything but just stare. I was sensible enough to
think about my condition, and to wonder how I was going to hide my constant
arousal from all these strangers, but now I realized that my ever-hard
penis had softened in the last few moments.  For a fleeting moment, my
thoughts had strayed from the boy at my side, to dwell on all the new
sights.

How brief the respite threatened to be!  Now I sat back down quietly,
watching Jasio again.  Watching his every movement as he helped the old
woman.  I thrilled at a sudden rush of the most exquisite sense of wonder.
For one small moment I had glimpsed part of a world beyond Jasio, but I
wanted no part of it, if it didn't center upon him.  His hold upon me
quickly reasserted itself.  No mountains could awe me for long.  The
palatial walls of the Straznik Drogi were mere backdrops.  They were all -
everything here - was merely a frame for my Jasio.

I almost desperately willed my penis to lay dormant, just for once.  Just
for a short while.  Let me get out of the carriage, let me meet all these
people, without having to try to hide the evidence of my passion.  But let
me never lose this passion!  Boylover affliction.  Boylover penitance.
Name it what you will, this fever that rose within me whenever I was even
near Jasio, but I gloried in it.

"Take my hand, if you please, Pani Sokolska," I heard the footman say as he
reached up to help her step down.  On the periphery of my awareness, it
dawned on me that we had finally heard her name.  She was not a forest
shrew then, not come to bewitch Jasio and me.

I took a deep breath, and stood.  I had more to do than just sit trying to
hide my arousal.  For now my tool lay half-hard along my pants leg.  If
they noticed, so be it.  I had to breathe.  I had to walk.  I had to watch
Jasio.  I needed to be beside him.  As I got up, the old woman stepped down
onto the porch with all the wheezing and grunting with which she had
ascended into the carriage earlier, but then she turned in complete control
of her senses to look up at Jasio.

He stood facing them all, his lithe form framed within the open carriage
doorway, every eye upon him.  I saw every emotion borne of wonder and joy
writ upon the faces of the servants.  Pride in the look of the driver, who
had gotten down from his perch to stand with the others.  He had seen Jasio
first.  Glee in the way the pudgy woman with the apron fidgeted with her
hands and stared up at the boy with undisguised admiration.  Just plain
satisfaction - like he had known this moment would happen someday - in the
slow nod and steady smile of the tall, thin old man who stood at the head
of the line on the left.  Awe - but not trepidation - in the wide eyes of a
young girl who occupied the last place in line on the right.

Each person saw him in their own way.  I too looked upon him, this boy of
my life-long dreams.  If there were magic in this Straznik Drogi eirie, it
emanated from him, because looking upon him did indeed make time - my time
- stand still.

It could not have been more than a few seconds that he stood there looking
down upon the assembled servants, but I can remember those seconds as eons.
To all the others - well, I didn't really know what expectations all these
others had invested in this boy, but as for me, I was sunk heart and soul
in him.  140 centimeters of mere human flesh?  Hardly!  140 centimeters of
self-ordained, life-giving spirit!  Jasio did not stand much above my chest
as I stood behind him.  I marvelled at how small and thin he looked, yet
from within that frame came my every motivation now.  Was it actually
possible that I could reach out, and place my hands upon his small
shoulders, to feel my fingers press along their gentle curves? Yes, it
really could happen, it really was possible now.  Because he allowed it.
How did I dare to face him, to even contemplate stooping to his height, to
bring my lips close to his, to taste them?  Did that not defy all
proportion?  He was so small.  I was so big.  But by his grace I knew that
it was possible, that I would enfold him into my arms.  By his grace, his
virgin flesh, so white, so pale, so soft to the touch, was my flesh.  By
his grace, my strong arms might envelope him, lift his child's body, and
press it against my own burly, hardened lines.

By his grace.

By his grace, he provided reason to exist for each person here, but none
ever more so than me.  I suddenly wanted to vault over the side of the
carriage, run around to the other side, push aside the steps, and kneel to
the tread of his feet.

I swear I was about to do it too, but by his grace, he bade me otherwise.
By his grace, time resumed, and I was called.  He half-turned, and implored
me in his high voice, "Piotrek?"

All the time I had sat there or stood woodenly lost in thought, marvelling
at the possibilities, he had stood before the throng of watchers, needing
me.  He held out his hand to me.  I jumped to him more swiftly even than he
had for the old woman.

"Yes, Misiu?"

"They want me to get down.  You're coming with me, aren't you?  Don't let m
...."

"Of course I'm coming with you, sweetheart.  I'm here.  I'll always be
here."

He jerked on my hand forcefully, almost desperately, pulling me to stand
behind him. Then he seemed to take one last look at all those faces gazing
back at him, took a deep breath, and then stooped to accept the assistance
of the footman.  I handed him down carefully, then followed down the steps.

"Everyone wanted to meet you, Kochany Paniczu," the old woman said, taking
Jasio's hand from the footman.  "We all remember your Tato, and even little
Agnieszka, here, has heard stories of him and all the Podhorowski men and
boys who have come here."  Shifting stiffly with her whole body, she
indicated the young girl at the end of the line. "Would you like me to
introduce them all to you now, or would you prefer to go inside
immediately?"

The Lord and Master of the Straznik Drogi edged back, his hand sifting the
air behind him for mine.  I had held back at the very foot of the steps
from the carriage, not wanting to obtrude in this special moment for Jasio,
but when he reached for me, I thrilled once again to the meaning of it, and
jumped to his bidding.  He grasped my fingers tightly, blindly, pulling me
to his side.

"We can ... we can meet everyone now, I guess," he said, glancing up at me
questioningly.  I just raised my brows willingly.  It was his call.

"I'd like to meet them all now, Babciu, and ..." he said directly to the
old woman, then he paused, his courage suddenly seeming to fail him.  He
looked down at the ground and dug his sandal in between two of the cobbles,
but then it was like he had just as suddenly collected some hidden strength
within himself, because he squared his feet, looked up again and directed
his gaze to both sides, where everyone was lined up to meet him, and boldly
said, "I'd like to hear from each of you, about my father.  If not right
now, then later?"

As one, all the servants just beamed.  Some of the women curtsied.  It
dawned on me suddenly that it had been just the thing that someone
accustomed to dealing with others might say, sealing a bargain between
himself and each one of these strangers, even before they had been
introduced to each other.  Was there something in his blood, some strain of
command, a natural understanding of what it meant to be a Podhorowski?

"Please allow me to be the first, then, m'lord," the tall old man at the
head of the line took a pace forward and bowed at the waist.  I am Dominik,
head of the household staff.  It has been my honor to serve not only your
dear father, but your grand-father and great-grandfather as well."  He then
looked at me, and with a bow of his head, said, "and I've been pleased to
serve all the boys and their men, Erastes and Eremenos alike, who have
graced these halls through the years.  Welcome, Kochany Paniczu. Welcome,
Pan Ostoja."  He started to step back into line with the others, but
hesitated.  Great emotion suddenly surfaced, where before he had spoken
with all the dignity and formality that might be expected of someone in his
position, and his years.  He blinked several times, rapidly, clearly
fighting back tears.  He held his mouth rigidly closed for a moment, as he
turned back directly to face Jasio.  For an instant he glanced towards the
old woman, exchanging a meaningful, unspoken communion with her.  Then to
our complete surprise, he slowly got down on his knees.

What a contrast it was, to see this white-headed old man kneeling at the
level of the boy, looking into the boy`s eyes, imparting to him all the
emotion he felt.  "Jasnie Panicz.  Jan, of the house of Podhorowski, it was
at the foot of these very steps that I - we - all said goodbye to your
father, twelve years ago.  He even allowed me to embrace him, just before
he set out on his way.  I wished with all my heart to greet him again.  I
can honestly say that greeting you instead, is no less a moment of joy."

I felt a little tug on my hand, and Jasio's fingers loosened their hold on
me for an instant.  He seemed to lean forward almost imperceptibly, but
then he drew back and clutched my own fingers even more tightly.  I could
tell that the old man's words had greatly affected the boy.  He wanted to
react.  He wanted to respond.  I peered down and could see that his eyes
were wide, his lips half parted. He was just on the brink of saying
something, but some uncertainty held him back from uttering his reply.

Again he glanced up at me, almost beseeching me, as if I might reply for
him.  I squeezed his hand firmly, trying to impart strength to him.  "I - I
can tell ..." I tried to say something, tried to imagine what must Jasio
feel hearing again about his real father.  I ended rather lamely, hoping it
would answer Jasio's need, "Jan's father must have been a wonderful man."

"Hardly more than a boy himself, when he left, sir.  He was with us many
years.  We all wish that our young lord here could have been with us all
these years too."

Jasio let out a little whimper, and then he did release my hand and stepped
forward and gave the still bowed man a hug, wrapping his arms gently about
the man's shoulders.

"My ... father ... I think ... would be glad that you remembered him so
well ... ah, Pan Dominik," Jasio said, his voice gaining strength as he
continued.  I was amazed - it seemed like he was deliberately speaking to
the whole throng, to all those about us who looked on with such heartfelt
agreement with the sentiments of the man who knelt before Jasio.  He must
have known too that the man was expressing what everyone here felt.

"I didn't know my ... I don't remember him, but I think he would have liked
to have returned here, to have greeted you again.  If I ... " Jasio
suddenly paused, and sighed loudly.  "If I am who you all say I am, then
... well, I ... I'm ...."  he couldn't continue.  His lips trembled, and I
saw that the tears were starting to trickle down his cheeks.

A motherly-looking woman, who had been next in line behind the old man to
greet Jasio, stepped forward and touched Jasio's arm.  "There, there,
Paniczu.  It's alright.  And you, old man," she said with mock sternness,
"you get up off your knees before you have all of us crying.  This is such
a joyous occasion, to meet our Jan."  She helped the old man get up as
Jasio stepped back to my side, taking my hand again immediatly.  He looked
up at me meekly, but tried to smile through the tears.  I just put my arm
around his shoulder and hugged him to me. "You are a remarkable boy, Jasio
Podhorowski."

His only answer was to lean his head into my side and to hug me even
harder.

"Paniczu, allow me to present Halina, your matron of the household," the
old woman continued with the introductions, indicating the rather
formidable woman who had come to Jasio's rescue.  The matron had set the
old man back upon his feet securely, and took her place next to him again
in line, then curtsied.  She smiled tenderly at Jasio.

Jasio pulled me forward with him, following the old woman down the line.
He swept the tears off his cheeks and sniffled, but seemed to consider it
his duty to stand before each person and acknowledge them personally.
Again I marveled at how he seemed to take to these lordly ways so
naturally.  The boy whom I had carried from one peasant hutch to another
just last night, to be spurned and turned away, now graciously accepted the
greetings of every one of these strangers.

He met maids, upstairs and down!  He met his personal cook.  He met the
stable master (with whom I determined to have a conference concerning my
GAZ), the grounds keeper, the doorman.  For each, Jasio had a shy smile,
but I'm sure by the time we neared the end of the line on the right, he was
as dazed by the many names and titles as I was.

"And finally, young lord.  I wish to present to you Urszula, and her
daughter Agnieszka.  Urszula was your father's personal maid-servant.  As
with most of the others, she has returned to the Straznik upon hearing of
your arrival, but will be unable to remain on the staff due to the illness
of her husband.  With your agreement, Paniczu, matron and I have decided
that Agnieska will be trained as your personal servant.  Her mother will
stay long enough to train her.  Does that meet with your approval?  You can
of course decide otherwise at a later point if you so desire."

Jasio seemed taken aback by the sudden need to make a decision.  He quickly
looked up to me again questioningly, almost frantically, his mouth open to
answer the old woman, but no sound came out.

I didn't know what to say.  To be truthful, and to my shame, my first
reaction upon hearing of the old woman's plan was alarm.  Jasio with a
young girl?  Could I trust a girl in his presence?  Would she steal him
from me?  Thankfully I had sense enough left this day to almost instantly
realize how pointless such fears were.  It was just another of the burdens
that every boylover must carry - boys grow, they become men.  Would our
love survive the presence of a girl?  I might as well ask if our love would
survive time itself, for time alone would tell of our story together, time
alone would bear witness to the changes that his fleeting youth would
bring, of his future needs and desires.  For now I knew what I felt for
him.  I absolutely knew what he felt for me.  I calmed myself, with no more
than the hint of a flush to betray my inner conflict of emotions.  "I'm
sure Agnieszka will make a fine ... maidservant, Misiu."

"Oh, ok," he conceded.

Both the mother and the daughter beamed with his approval, and gave the
lowest curtsies of all.  They stepped back in line looking completely
happy.

"Good.  That's settled, then.  Paniczu," the old woman adjusted her feet,
positioning herself laboriously to face Jasio squarely, formally.  "The
Straznik Drogi, you will discover, is many things to many people.  For you,
it is also a home.  By your leave, m'lord," she said, with a bow of her
head, "your staff will now take up their duties, once more in the service
of a Podhorowski."

Jasio listened with rapt attention, and he understood immediately.  Things
had changed.  There was a finality to this moment.  An ending to some
things that had defined his life up till now.  I watched as he drew himself
to his full height, standing reed tall, the very picture of elegance.  His
sandaled feet were planted firmly upon the ground of the Straznik.  The
calves of his slim legs flexed beneath the clinging white socks, tensed to
the same taut alertness of his whole body.  He could have been a Roman
prince, standing there, the leather straps of his sandals laced tightly,
ready for his commanding march.  The wide collar of his tunic lifted with
his breath, and even though his uniform was but a boy's playtime copy of a
sailor's garb, it commanded attention, if for nothing else than the
incomparable beauty of the boy who wore it. His back arched, making his
bottom so pronounced that his tight pants sought the cleft between the
cheeks. His shoulders, as narrow as they were, true to his boyish lines,
jutted back in attention.  His neck was straight, and upon it he held his
head even with the old woman's, looking her directly in the eyes.  The
blue-trimmed cap sat jauntily upon his unruly hair.

By the stars, if every person there at that moment didn't know that Jasio
was born to take possession of this grand palace, then that benighted
person must be blind.

His voice hardly wavered as he accepted the mantle of possession that the
old woman had proffered, but it was halting, as he accustomed himself to
his new role.  "Yes.  Yes, Pani Agata ... please, you ... you can go, you
can all go ... if you want ...."

Through it all, he still held my hand in his, and I thrilled to the
strength of his grip.  I felt the surge of his spirit, as he dared to take
hold of the new role that had befallen him.

The old woman bowed once again, lower this time.  She certainly recognized
Jasio's transformation.  The others followed suit, and all the women
curtsied again.  Little Agnieszka I think was a bit overawed, because she
was caught off-guard, but recovered quickly, and gave a studied little dip
of her knees too.

Then off they all trooped. All except our Sokalska - off down towards the
car port.  The old woman shuffled round in her tracks and lifted the point
of her cane up towards the entryway to the palace.  "Only one who follows
the Way may enter these doors.  I will, therefore, follow the rest of the
staff to the servant's entrance."

And finally she did it.  I knew that all day long she had been on the verge
of it, old habits straining to surface, mixed with a renewed hope, a rising
respect, and just as with Agnieska - perhaps some awe.  The old woman was
still capable of feeling awe, even after all she had experienced in her
long life, after all the great men she had known, after all the Podhorowski
boys she had served.  Now she bent to the task, forcing her old bones and
muscles into long dormant modes.  Her palsied and stiffened joints must
have ached to the effort, but she did it in spite of them.  With her feet
as close together as her bowed legs would allow, she slowly bent her knees,
and curtsied, her head down.  She spoke just one final word, letting it
roll from her tongue like a pronouncement, "Paniczu!"

With that, she raised herself once again, her eyes closed as if in prayer,
and turned to shuffle off after the others.

Perhaps at some other time and place I would have laughed at the sight, but
not now.  It was easy to see that she acted out of real respect and love,
not just for Jasio, but for his father, his grandfather, and perhaps for
more.  Perhaps for all that Jasio seemed to represent to her.  For the
Podhorowskis, but also for the Grecka Droga, for the Straznik Drogi.  For
The Way.

Suddenly we heard the clatter of the horses' shod hooves and the creaking
of the carriage.  Both of us turned to see it driving away.  It circled the
courtyard, with the quiet calls of the coachman and the slap of his reins
upon the horses' flanks.  Its circuit took it past the fountain and back
around to enter under the driveway arch even as the old woman made her way
through as well.

We found ourselves alone.  Completely, totally alone.

I think we both took a deep breath then, as we looked about us.  For
myself, I was dazed by ... everything!  The fairy tale setting, the fairy
tale palace, the liveried servants, and not the least by the way Jasio
himself had handled it all.


Gone was the giddy glee with which he had jumped up and down in the
carriage. Gone the little vagabond I had almost crushed beside the King's
Way.  Gone the lost and abondoned boy.  Gone the years and years alone at
Jadlovka.

I stood in the presence of the new master of this world, this strange and
magnificent world that we had entered - the mysterious world that we had
both been drawn to as if by fate.  He was also MY boy!  Master of all,
including my heart, and yet bound to me by the commitment that we had made
to each other this day.

"Jasio!"  "Piotrek!"

We called to each other at the same instant, a kind of exhuberant
outpouring by both of us - something we had to express to each other.  In
that same instant, I bent to take him into my arms, he leapt up and wrapped
himself about me, his arms almost choking me, so tightly did he enclose my
neck.  I felt his soft curls against my cheek, his lips seeking the bare
flesh beneath my collar.  We both just held on to each other, sharing the
wonder of it all.

"It's so beautiful here, Misiu," I spoke softly into his ear as I turned us
about, just trying to take it all in.  "It's so beautiful, this new home of
yours."

"It's everything I imagined," he sighed.

"How do you mean - have you heard of the Straznik Drogi before?"

"No.  I've never heard of it before, but ... I've been here before,
Piotrek."  He said it with complete certainty.  He raised his head from the
crook of my neck, and the look in his eyes told me that he was as certain
of this as anything in his life.

"You have?  But, your father left here before you were born."

"It happened down there, before, at Jadlovka.  Did you see it there, last
night?  Did you see where the great palace used to be?  There's nothing
left now but a few rocks - laid out on the ground.  I used to look at them,
study them.  When the farmers build a new house, first they lay down what
they call a foundation. That's all that's left of the palace now - the
foundation.  But I built it Piotrek!  In my mind I built it.  I could tell
where each room was, and sometimes at night, when the moon was out, or even
by the light of the stars, I'd go there.  Sometimes no one would let me in
their shack, but I could always go to that old palace."

He paused, considering something, turning his neck to look back at the
grand palace. I swiveled about so we could both look at it.  "To think that
I can go in there.  Now.  I could really walk inside, walk into each room.
I used to do that - in my imaginary palace.  I would walk from room to room
there.  I'd play like I ...."

His voice trailed off wistfully, lost in his memories.  He had spoken with
such fervor before that I really could picture him doing just as he said.
Now he stared up at the Straznik, silently remembering.

"What Jasio?  What did you play there?" I tried to urge him on.

"I actually played like I belonged there.  Talking with the great princes
that used to live there.  I even found the head of an old statue.  It took
me a long time to figure out how to do it, but I finally built up another
little foundation under it, and lifted it bit by bit, till I could slip it
onto an old, broken column of stone."

Jasio, master of our world.  Jasio, the engineer.  Jasio, the dreamer and
doer.  I must have shaken my head in the wonder of it all.

He looked at me suddenly, smiling sheepishly, lowering his head down
slightly in self-deprecation.  "Don't laugh, ok?  Don't laugh at me,
Piotrek," he pleaded almost desperately.

"Oh don't worry about me laughing at you, Misiu!  I doubt there's anything
you could do or imagine that I wouldn't find fascinating.  Don't you know
that by now?"

"Yes, I do," he answered immediately, bringing his head up again
confidently.  Then he kissed me, right there on my cheek.  His way of
apologizing, I think, that he had even begun to doubt me.  "Ok, so I used
to talk with that statue, Piotrek.  I used to wish that he was my friend,
or even my father.  Was that silly of me?  Was it foolish to wish for
that?"

My chest swelled with emotion as I pictured this little boy, alone at night
with only the heavens to keep him company.  The heavens, and his silent
companion upon the stone pedestal.

It was my turn to sigh - a loud and long exhale of regret.  Then I held one
hand up, palm outstretched, and described a wide sweep across the template
of sky and mountain and palace, carrying Jasio about with me as I turned.
"Misiu!  If that man whose head you put up on that column was a
Podhorowski, then he was your blood. If he helped you see his palace, if he
helped you imagine all this, then he was just doing what any father would
do, or any grandfather."

"So I did belong there, didn't I, Piotrek?  In that other palace?  In the
one I built, in the one I saw in my mind?"

"Yes, you did."

"I belong here too, then, don't I?"

I considered his simple question.  I considered all that the old woman had
told us, I considered all that we had seen of the Grecka Droga, all that we
had done here in this hidden valley.  We had already consecrated this place
to our lives.  I thought of what we had pledged to each other, and to The
Way.

"Oh yes, my dearest sweet prince, you belong here.  And wherever you
belong, so do I."

I bent again, to let him down gently, but even as he loosened his clenched
knees around my waist, and slid down - even as his feet touched the ground
- he pecked my lips with his own.  "You remember what we said too, don't
you, Piotrek?  Back at the gatehouse?"

I remember everything about that, Misiu, and I always will."

"Mmmmmmmh," he hugged me with all his strength, his little arms squeezing
me.  His moan came from deep within him.  Then he let me go, only to seek
out my hand again.  "Together always, then, you and me?"

"Together always, you and me."

"Then we belong here together.  And what a place to belong to!"

"It's hard to take it all in at once, isn't it?"

"Look!  Up there on the roof!" he pointed excitedly at a new discovery.
"What's that ... big cloth rising on a pole there. It has the same picture
on it, like on that big rock, and my key."

"I believe that is your family crest, Jan Podhorowski.  That, I believe, is
your personal banner.  They're raising it above the palace, in honor of
you.  You're here now.  In residence.  A Podhorowski is here again, and
that banner proclaims it for all to see."

"For all to see," he mused, ruminating over the words.  "If there's anyone
up in those trees, they'll see it, for sure," he said, pointing up at the
forested slopes that hemmed us in.  "But it's not likely anyone else can
see it, hidden away like this."

"They need to see it down there, where we came from," I said.  We both
turned towards the way we had come.

"I didn't realize how high up we were!" Jasio exclaimed.  "We're even above
the tree tops."

And so we were.  We walked forward, till we were standing at the very edge
of the plaza.  The surrounding trees hardly served to obstruct the view
down the canyon leading to the Grecka Droga, because they fell away so
precipitously.  Our road up here had followed switchbacks.  We could see it
sweeping off across slope down below us, then again the other way, lower
down.  It had not seemed like such a steep climb, but from where we were
standing, the Grecka Droga was hundreds of feet below us.

"There's the inn!  There's the Grecka Droga," Jasio pointed off through the
nearest treetops.

"Our cabin too.  And the creek - see it over there, along the far side of
the canyon floor?"

"Yeah, and the baths, Piotrek, see the glass.  That's where you ...."

He stopped abruptly, his hand flew to cover his mouth and he gave one his
little giggles.

"Oh, don't remind me now, Jasio!  It's bad enough trying to hide my suysiak
from the servants, much less all those farmers at Jadlovka.  Oops, too
late.  I think it`s growing again!"

"Let it grow," he said, softly, conspiratoriously.  "They won't be able to
see it so far away!"

"Are you so sure?! There - just out on the plain, there's Jodlowka."

"Well, your thing is big, but not that big, Piotrek," he jibed at me, and
once again he moved his hand to cover me, to touch me, to press his palm
and his fingers along my expanding rod, and suddenly we were both very
focused on the here, the now.  Not the far away.

I snaked an arm about his shoulder and pulled him tight to me, and took a
deep breath, closing my eyes.  If I opened them, I could see out forever
beyond the mountains.  I didn't want to see that, though.  I wanted only
his touch.

"I had better ... stop this, huh, Piotrek?" At first I thought Jasio might
be teasing me, but his sinuous voice betrayed the truth.  He was reluctant
to stop.  He wanted to touch me.  My boy wanted to touch me!

"Ye- yes ...." I just as reluctantly answered, through a breath constricted
by my own true desires.  "You had ... better stop ... or they will all
... see ...."

He shifted upon his feet awkwardly, almost unbalancing himself, and let out
a little moan, just under his breath.  I looked down to see him squirming
his legs together like a boy who needed very badly to pee.  But this boy
didn`t need to pee.  My little boy was sporting his own boy-sized erection,
complete with his own much shorter and smaller but oh so enticing bulge in
his white pants. "But I ... kind of wanted you to feel me, too, Piotrek,"
he implored half-heartedly, knowing as well as I did that maybe now wasn`t
the right time.

Seeing the outline of his little dick did nothing to reduce my own arousal,
but I steeled myself not to reach over and touch him there.  If I did, I
don't think there would be any turning back.  The servants of the Straznik
would get an eyeful.

I breathed deeply, trying to calm myself, gulping in the air.  "Uhh
... let's ... maybe we can find a chance inside, Misiu?" I forced out the
words.

"Ok." he said softly, hoarsely, surrendering.  He let go of me slowly, with
a parting graze of his palm across my turgid member.  "If we can't do it
right now, then ... at least we can hold each other tight," he said, as he
slid his arm back behind me, leaning into me again, and grasped me about my
waist, snuggling himself into my embrace.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on the holding of my boy. We stood there
for long moments, as I came down from my almost orgasmic state.  Gradually
I allowed my eyes to open, to add sight to the sounds and the touch, to
sense what it was like to be on top of the world with the boy I loved.

I thought once again of our circles of existence, and how they were
merging, becoming one.  This little boy beside me was my life.

"Are you alright now, Piotrek?" Jasio whispered, finally breaking our long
silence.

"Yeah, I`ll live, I think."

"Then listen!" he whispered again, more urgently.

"To what, Misiu?"  I whispered too, suddenly more alert.

"Listen hard.  You'll hear it.  It's so beautiful," he answered
mysteriously, smiling up at me conspiratoriously.

"The wind?  There isn't mu ...."

"Shhhh.  Softer than the wind."

"Softer than the wind, huh?  Perhaps the sound of the clouds up above,
then?" I asserted wryly.

"Nope.  They're way too high.  We couldn't hear them."

"But we're up so high too, maybe we can ...."

"See their shadows?  See how fast they move across the treetops below us?"

"Yes."

"Now look at the clouds themselves - see how slowly they seem to move?"

"Yes."

"That proves they're too high for us to hear - they're moving so fast, but
they look like they're standing still.  No, it's not the clouds."

"Your something of an expert on clouds and their shadows then, huh?" I said
jokingly, but in fact I was very impressed.  That reasoning of his took
some doing.  Some ... spatial geometry, or trigonometry, or some such
thing.

He giggled.  "Enough to know we can't hear them."

"Ok, the pines then.  The wind in the pines.  That's what you hear."

"No, listen for it.  The barest hint of a whisper, a far off rush of air it
is, sure.  But it's not just the wind."

"Then what is it, Einstein?"

"Huh?  Who?"

"Sorry, just a ... very smart fellow I once heard of."

"You think I'm smart?"

"You seem to hear things!  That's for sure.  And you ... you seem to look
for the why, and the how, about everything."

"Yeah, I do, that's why that sound is so beautiful.  Because I know what
causes it.  I figured it out, long ago, and now I can hear it.  Up in these
mountains."

"But what is it, Misiu!"  I said too loud.

"Shhhhh," he admonished me again.  "It's the sky falling." He said it so
softly, as if imparting to me a special secret for only my ears to hear.

"Huh?  Wha ...."

"Yeah, the sky is falling.  Up here, we can hear it."

"Is that different from the wind, then?"

"Well, I don't know for sure.  I haven't studied the wind as much as I have
... shadows, for instance.  But what is the wind, anyway, Piotrek?  I used
to listen to the stories - when they would let me sit inside and listen,
that is - they used to tell one about the hen who went around crying that
the sky was falling - remember that one?  Well, I tried to tell them all,
that it was just the wind that the hen was talking about.  You know, cold
air falls, Piotrek?  I used to sit beneath the cooler door, at Jodlowka.  I
could feel it.  The cold air, falling. Imagine it falling down the mountain
side here!  Like a giant cooler.  So that's not just the wind.  It's the
sky falling."

I swear I was stunned, to witness the way his mind worked.  It didn't
matter that perhaps his terms were wrong, or that perhaps his thinking had
taken him one direction too far, or - it just didn't matter at all.  I just
stood there in reverence for his mind, for the genius I saw in him.  Then I
said, "The falling sky - it's ... it sounds ... it does sound soft and
beautiful, Jasio, just as you said.  You make me see that there is indeed
beauty in the how and the why, too, if you can discover them.  I admire you
for that ability, to see the how and the why.  I wish I had it."

He smiled shyly up at me, accepting my words as an accolade. It made me
feel all the more proud that he cared what I thought of him.

"What else do you find beauty in, Jasio," I asked, not wanting to give up
on this opportunity to see into the mind of this boy that I was growing to
love more and more with each passing moment.

"I guess ... I see beauty in many things.  I get excited by them, learning
about them."

"Over there, Jasio." I lifted my arm from around his shoulder and pointed
off down the plaza a bit.  "Those flowers - I hadn't even noticed them
before."  We ambled off towards them - they were scattered in posts and
beds all around the courtyard.  "Do you see beauty in the color of a
flower?"

Excitedly, he piped up, "Isn`t it interesting the way bees and wasps are
drawn to just certain colors in the flowers?  I wonder how each flower came
to have just the right color to get an insect to land there.  Old Bolek
told me that all the plants need insects to help them grow.  I was thinking
about doing a test, to see if I could get bees to go to different colors."

"So I just see the color, but you see the purpose in a color.  We both see
something that touches us, somehow."

"Yes."

"I find beauty in your voice.  It sings to me, every time I hear you
speak."

"Your voice is so deep.  Did you know that a low deep voice, like yours,
travels farther?"  Again he was so eager to explain.  "I mean a high voice
like mine can sound loud, but a low voice - it somehow ... digs deep.  It
carries so far.  Your voice makes me ... tingle," he giggled, "like it gets
under my skin!  I love the feeling.  It's ... beautiful, to me."

It was my turn to smile at him, accepting his accolade.  I think I must
have blushed a bit.

I looked around us, searching for more ways to learn about my boy, and my
gaze fell upon the figures that graced the fountain. We had been drawing
closer to it unwittingly, but even from a distance the figures seemed to
epitomized whatever there was of beauty in the human form - a boy's, and a
man's.  "Look there, Jasio," I pointed towards the fountain.  "Isn't that
so beautiful?"

"Come!"  he grabbed my hand and led me off towards it.  "What do you like
about it, Piotrek?" he asked so eagerly.  He seemed to revel in this new
game of ours - this exploration we had undertaken.

"Oh!! That's so easy.  The boy.  Look at him.  I swear he looks like you.
His hair is ... my god, Jasio, it's a masterpiece - look at the way the
sculptor has revealed the very essence of your beauty!  The way the curls
wave so naturally in the wind.  You're so tall, slim, soft and smooth, your
skin so pale white.  The sleek lines of your arm as you reach across the
pool towards your ... towards the man ...." I halted dumbfounded before the
sculptures.  We had stepped so close to the verge of the pool that I could
feel the cool, wet spray.

"Hmmh.  That's you, for sure.  The man.  But me?  Is that really me?  In
the first place, it`s mold green, not pale white."

"Oh yes, he's the very living image of you.  The artist gave him your form,
I can add the colors, the textures, everything else that I love in you."

"Well, it better be me, then!  I wouldn't want some other boy reaching out
for you," he said jokingly, but it was his turn to blush - suddenly a
delicate red hue spread across his pale - and white - cheeks.

"But I can say the same thing - is that really me?" I remonstrated,
indicating the man.  "I wish!  To look like that!  Whoever the sculptor was
seemed to know his models perfectly."

"He knew how to mold the metal.  I find beauty in that.  He knew how to
make them stand here for who knows how long.  I really find beauty in that!
Just think of what goes into making something like this.  I've watched the
blacksmith pour metal into molds.  I even tried to do it myself - to make
my own little forge, but I couldn't get the fire hot enough, you know ....
Piotrek?  Hello, Piotrek?"

"I- I'm sorry.  I just can't take my eyes off you - him - yo ...."  I
fumbled with the words, and turned to stare at Jasio in much the same way
as I had been staring at the boy's statue, my mouth hanging open, my jaw
slack with wonder, my eyes wide. "There I go again.  I'm really sorry,
Jasio, I just can't help it."

"It makes me feel ... beautiful, Piotrek. The way you stare."

"It does?  I mean, yes, you should."

His blush spread.  But so did his little smile.

"It's because you stare into me, not just at me.  I know you think I'm
... good looking. I can see that in the way you always stare at me.  I can
see that in the way your siusiak is always so hard for me!  But I think you
... you like more about me.  You see the beauty in the how and the why of
me, too.  Don't you."

It was a statement.  A confirmation, with no need for me to answer.

"I see beauty just the way you do, Piotrek," he continued.  "Look at that
man there, reaching out for his boy.  He's strong.  Look at his muscles.
They're in motion, like he`s stretching as tall as he can be.  Because he
wants to stand tall for his boy.  Look at his siusiak.  It's not hard -
yet!  But it hangs there, growing hard, because of what he sees in his boy.
He cares so much.  He wants the boy in his arms, not all the way across the
pool, but right there in his arms.  It's you, Piotrek.  Look at his eyes -
your eyes!  They're calling to the boy, but letting him choose to step
forward across the pool. Look at ... me - the boy ... he wants to be with
his man."

He paused and looked down, thinking, idly shifting the sole of his sandal
across the rough surface of a cobble stone.  He seemed to take a deep
breath, and when he looked back up at me again I saw that his face was taut
with emotion.  His chest heaved.  "Why do you think I ... keep reaching for
your siusiak, Piotrek?  I wondered about that.  I asked myself how and why.
Even now I want to feel it."

"You do?" I answered meekly, hardly daring to hope again.  I stole a glance
down below his waist, and his hardon was bulging out his shorts again.
Being here, standing before the images of this boy and his man - images
frozen for all time in the motion towards each other - had the same effect
on both of us.

"Yes.  Like this boy in the fountain.  He wants to touch his man.  Do you
think - you think the man who created this, watched them?  Do you think he
watched as the boy stepped into the pool, and the man joined him, and they
touched?"

"I can't imagine that he could portray them so perfectly, unless he did
watch, Misiu."

"Do you think anyone is watching us?"

"Perhaps."

"Then ... perhaps I should stand closer, and ... we could look like we're
just talking, and ..."

I had trouble breathing again.  All I could get out, was "... perhaps ...."

He sidled in so close to me that his head fit right in under my armpit,
snuggling in so tight that I felt the full length of his body against mine.
His hair brushed my side, and I felt their soft curls on the underside of
my arm.  I felt his flesh, separated from mine only by the thin fabric of
our clothing.  He was so warm and boyishly soft, yet here and there hard
and just as boyishly alive with his intent.  Soft where I felt his bare
thigh brush my leg.  Hard where his elbow dug into my belly, as he
maneuvered to reach his hand across to grasp me again.  Hard where the
rounded smoothness of his shoulder slid against my ribs.  Hard between his
legs ... oh so soft when his fingertips finally did make contact yet again
with the cloth-shielded shaft of my penis - he was gentler this time,
exploratory, touching and feeling rather than grabbing.

My dick responded the same way, however.  Hardening even more, lengthening,
inching its way upward underneath my slacks.  Throbbing, jerking, when his
fingers scraped delicately across the corona.  My glans was cloth-covered,
still protected by my foreskin, but I could feel the contours of his
fingers there - first the tips, then the pads, then the crease of his
joints, and then the full length of his slim little fingers sliding over
it, then back.

My eyes closed involuntarily and I held my head back, my feet spread and
legs steadied, preparing to withstand his assault on my senses. I probably
moaned.  I'm sure I did, but I couldn't speak.  My jaw was clenched.  I had
to consciouisly refrain from grasping Jasio and holding onto him for my
very support.

There was no sound penetrating to my ears, other than the continuous melody
of the trickling waters - and his voice!

"We seem to see beauty in the same way, at least in one thing, Piotrek.  I
can't get my mind off your thing, and you seemed to get excited when you
see mine.  When we were in the baths, you ... looked at me.  At my siusiak,
especially.  Why do we love them so, Piotrek?  I want to see yours, now."

His fingers desisted in their roaming path along my thickening shaft, and I
felt them slide directly to the row of buttons that forcibly held me
prisoner.  One, two, then three, he loosened, and with each I felt my dick
sliding freer, responding to his efforts. By the fourth, my pants fell
open.  They might have slid to the cobbles if I hadn't stood so tensely, my
thighs clenched, in expectation of Jasio's next move.

My dick didn't wait.  It sprang up at full length, slapping against the
edge of Jasio's wrist.  He deftly caught it, with a flick of his wrist.  He
held his fingers wrapped around the base, while the hooded glans and the
upper length of the shaft came to rest against the underside of his
forearm.

Imprisoned again!  But this time by my boy.

The skin beneath a boy's wrist must be as soft and smooth as any other part
of his body - and hot!  The sudden contact of my penis with Jasio's wrist
seared me, flooding me with his heat.  I felt it all the way to my balls.
I swear I did.  And even the slightest movement of his still exploring hand
made my dick head slip from side to side under the pressure of his flesh.
It was excruciating, but he wouldn't release me.  I moaned again.  I might
have begged for mercy, if I could have opened my mouth to utter even one
sensible word, but I still could not.

And then he assaulted me with his voice again.  "It's so big, Piotrek.  And
hard," his breathy undertone, filled with his own lust, shot through me.  I
never knew the full power of a boy's voice till that moment.  I never knew
the depths of a boy's desire till that moment.

"I ask how and why my siusiak gets hard, when I touch yours, or even when I
think about yours.  Is your thing beautiful?  To me it is.  There`s such
beauty in the way it needs me, in the way it stands up for me.  There`s
beauty in the ... this hurt, this pain I feel inside my chest - it tightens
up, when I see you hard like that - there`s beauty in the way it draws me
to you, like the color of a flower draws an insect.  It makes me want to be
with you, to hold you.  That`s the how and the why - why the boy in the
fountain here is reaching out for his man. Just like me, he wants to share
the air that the man breathes.  He wants taste the man`s flesh.  He wants
to drink of that man`s seed, like I drank yours.  He wants to be with that
man."

Combined with the mere pressure of his hand and his wrist upon my penis,
his huskiness and the want in his voice might have sent me over the edge at
that instant.

But at that instant, he slid his hand down, off my shaft.  My raging penis
lolled free then, no longer suffering that sweetest of torments.  I
breathed hard, taking the opportunity, knowing already where his hand was
going.  No sooner did I sigh in relief, but I felt his little fingers upon
my balls.

More exploring.  More feeling.  This time weighing, lifting.

More clenched teeth.  My thighs even tighter.  I tried not to sway against
him as he massaged my testicles, first supporting them both in his
outstretched palm, then taking each in turn, holding them, squeezing ever
so slightly, bobbing them up and down, pulling.

Why do men and boys lift their lovers' balls?  Why do we weigh them?  Why
do we torture them so!? I might have asked Jasio that, if only I could
speak, but I didn't have to.  He was still true to his nature, still
seeking the how and the why.

"They're heavy, Piotrek.  And so huge.  Just like your siusiak.  Not like
mine.  I can't stop thinking about what they hold.  The seed.  The stuff
that makes babies.  This is where it all comes from, Piotrek.  The stuff I
tasted.  I've watched as they cut the balls off the bull calves back at
Jodlowka.  They said it would keep the calves from growing so huge and
being so mean.  But you're not mean.  You're just big!" he spoke just above
a whisper, and then louder, "And beautiful.  I find beauty in your balls,
too, Piotrek.  Is your thing like a pump?  Does it make the seed come up,
so I can taste it again?"

He needed both hands, and leaned in across me.  If we had wanted to hide
our actions from anyone watching in the Straznik, that was probably a lost
cause.  I held him like a little bird under my wing, and he bent within my
embrace.

He lifted my balls out, so that he could examine them, pulling on the
pliable skin of my scrotum, tugging on the wiry hairs there, concentrating,
testing.  With one hand he moved back up along the shaft of my dick,
capturing it again, pulling it up so he could see even better.  He massaged
it too, starting a slow motion up and down on it, sliding the skin upon the
hardened shaft beneath.  Just the tip of my glans poked free with each
downstroke - his motion was tentative, still exploratory.

"I'm going to try it.  I'm going to pump on it, make your stuff come up, so
I can taste it again.  Look at the way your balls pull up when I pump on
your siusiak.  It`s all connected, isn`t it?  It`s like the fountain,
Piotrek!"  He said excitedly.

He was fascinated by my dick and balls.  They were like a machine to him,
my dick like one of his make-shift tools, something he could manipulate.
Trouble was, his manipulating was about to make me fall over!  I found
myself lifting up on tippy-toe as he played with me, my body desperately
trying to wrest back some control.  It was the most sublime torture
imaginable to have him pulling and probing and pumping, in his own rhythm,
not mine.  To his own purpose, not mine.  I was a tool for him.

The ache in my balls started to build, bordering on pain, but inching
towards ecstasy.  Now that his attention was shifting towards my shaft,
though, so did mine.  The ecstasy emanating from his hand wrapped around my
tool was unchecked - there was nothing about torture there, just one rising
crescendo of feeling.  It didn't even have a central focus - it was
everywhere that Jasio's finger's touched, everywhere his palm grazed, it
grew every time he pulled my foreskin down over the wet surface of my
glans.  Lower, lower, lower ... I take it back - it was torture. I wanted
to feel him take me all the way, but his stroke just verged upon the
precipice.  Every stroke a bit lower, but not yet all the way, not yet
freeing my glans, not yet stretching it, pulling it, tightening it over the
end of my shaft.

"Are you going to bleed, Piotrek?!"  he suddenly exclaimed, sounding
alarmed.  "The head of your dick is so red!  It's like it's going to bust
open, like it's fiery hot.  But it's wet too.  Can I feel it?"

It was all a part of his exploration.  He didn't stop the pumping.  He just
made it harder, each stroke longer.  He let go of my balls, and placed a
fingertip directly on my glans!

I nearly jumped up out of my sandals, because this was pain too.  Not the
dull, aching pain in my balls, but a shrieking blast of the kind of pain
that it's hard to inflict upon oneself, but can't be denied when someone
else does it to you.  And you want him to do it again, and again, an again,
but you want to beg him never to do it again!

He did it again, this time with a ring of his fingertips, probing the
spongy mass of my enraged dickhead.  I think it was only his constant
pressure, the permanence of the touch, that made it possible for me to keep
from screaming out.  I was breathless anyway, and couldn't have drawn in
enough air to scream.  He pumped now, hard, and held onto my glans, hard.
It was an agony that I had never experienced before.  I could never have
done this to myself.  Now my glans was bared completely on each
down-stroke.  It was hooded again, over and over, all the way up to his
fingertips, on each up stroke.  He wouldn't relent.  He slid his fingertips
down over the glans, grazing it, hard.  It did no good to stand on my toes
now.  There was no way out.  This boy had complete control of me.  He was
using my body, intent upon achieving his objective.  He knew what would
come.  He knew how to make it come.  He wanted to witness it.

His fingers slid over the corona, and lodged beneath.  And still he kept
pumping, pulling the skin up over his fingertips, faster and faster.

I started convulsing.  I could feel it, but I couldn't control it.  My
thighs, my chest, my arms, my head, every muscle flexing, spasming, every
part of me twisting and weaving and flailing to this boy's control.  I felt
like I was suspended in midair, incapable of willing any part of my body to
respond to my command.  And incapable of either hastening or stopping the
inevitable.  It was all Jasio.  Anything, everything, that he wanted.

It all came too quickly for him, even.  It caught him by surprise when I
lost it.  I felt my balls tighten.  I felt my dick about to spew, at that
undeniable instant of the most agonizing ecstasy, and then my sperm finally
came shooting out the end of my dick, spewing up and out all over his hand
where he held onto my glans, then splashing down upon the other.  "Oh!" he
squealed in his delight.  He was drenched in my cum.

Suddenly I was released from all the torture and all the ecstasy.  He let
go of me and stood up and stepped out from under my arms, staring at his
hands.  I fell forward onto the rim of the fountain pool, letting the
waters spill over my hands, but needing some support to keep from falling
to my knees.  I turned my head then, looking at him, and blinked hard,
trying to keep from fainting.  My cock and balls were inflamed with the
most exquisite sensations. Jasio was standing there, still staring at his
hands, turning them, letting the goo of my sperm drip from one finger to
another, down across his splattered palm, threatening to spill upon the
cobble stones.  He wouldn't let it spill.  He was as fascinated by it as he
had been by his handling of my tool.  He seemed entranced by it.

"Is there ... beauty in that ... Jasio?" I managed a rasping question, as I
caught my breath.

"Oh yes!" he said almost reverently, still examining my cum.  "Your seed,
Piotrek.  It's beautiful.  Part of you that I can hold.  I can ... I can
take it in my body."  He dipped his head and touched the tip of his tongue
to the pearlescent swirl in his palm.  As he drew it back, a long strand
stretched out, a thinning filament, till it broke free to pool again in his
palm.  He took my cum into his mouth and seemed to savor it, licking his
lips, smiling so sweetly at me.

"I can take it into my body, all of it.  Or I could spread it to all the
world.  Like this."

He stretched out both his hands, cupped, holding my fluids, as if he were
giving up a precious offering.  Gracefully, he dipped them into the pool of
the fountain, and let the waters slowly wash my cum away.  We watched as
strands of it were swept over the edge of the pool and down into the
catchment below.

We both straightened back up at the same instant. I stood there wobbly on
my feet, quickly grasping at my pants to hold them up.  Jasio stood facing
me with the most self-satisfied expression on his face, as if saying "Look
what I just did!"

"Are you ... are you sure the whole world wants to ... share in my cum?"

"Well, if they don't, it's because they don't know you as well as I do," he
answered smugly.

"Oops!" he exclaimed, giggling again.  "We mustn't let any go to waste."
Quickly he darted out his hands and grasped my now softening tool.  It was
dangling now, my sperm dripping from the tip of the still reddened glans.
With a look of studied intent, he expertly directed the splattering of cum
into the catchment, shaking it off, and milking me free of any remaining
seed.

I could only stand there, my hands held up out of his way.  I glanced over
towards the Straznik.  "Hmmh.  So much for our plan to not let anyone see
what we were doing, huh?"

"Oops, again!" he laughed, and quickly scooted up close to me, making a
show of surreptitiously stuffing my dick back into my pants.  He drew the
flaps of my fly together, and fumbled at the buttons.  Both of us were
sputtering with laughter by now.  He fell against me, grabbing me about my
waist.  I hugged him to me with all my might.

"Thanks, Misiu.  It was truly ... beautiful."

"Yes, it was, wasn't it." he answered, and gave me another huge squeeze.