Date: Thu, 24 Jan 2002 17:17:47
From: Ganymede
Subject: Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, Act VI

The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, ACT VI, by Ganymede


WARNING:


This story contains graphic descriptions of sexual acts
between men and MINOR boys. It is not true! The story is not
intended to promote illegal acts against minors. I do not
condone child abuse, however the love of boys is a different
matter. Despite the prevalent attitudes of western society,
men have loved boys throughout recorded history. It is my goal
to help readers appreciate that love can exist between men
and boys. If the subject of man/boy love offends you, if
this material is illegal in your place of residence, or if you
are under the legal age for such material, do not read further!

By downloading this story:

"... you implicitly declare and affirm under penalties of
perjury that you are not a minor or in the company of a
minor and are entitled to have access to material intended
for mature, responsible members of society capable of making
decisions about the content of documents they wish to read...."

Any similarity to individuals, living or dead, is entirely
accidental. The sexual acts described in the story are the
result of my imagination. I have not performed these acts, and
I do not encourage others to perform them with minors.

The story is copyrighted under the pseudonym, Ganymede. Copies
have been placed in two archives for your enjoyment.
The story cannot be used to derive monetary gain. The story
cannot be placed in archives that require payment for access, or
printed and distributed in any form that requires payment either
directly or indirectly.


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FINAL WARNING:

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



The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, ACT VI, by Ganymede

Dedicated to another's friend, a boy who wanted to dance.

OVERTURE



Alesha danced. He danced before an audience of seven, four
men and three boys. He realized, when he began to move around the
room, that they were watching him intently, their eyes straining
to see through the chiffon. His thin dress flared out when he
swirled, floating higher and away from his lithe gyrating body.
It allowed his almost-naked form to be revealed as if shrouded in
blue-green-tinted mist. Yet, Alesha did not appreciate what
others saw. He concentrated on a single goal, of matching his
body's motion to the disco music, which for Alesha was remarkably
easy. The other boys sang as he danced, shouting out the words of
a song that just about every boy at Appleboys had adopted as his
theme song.

'New York City boy,

You'll never have a bored day.

'cause you're a New York City boy,

where Seventh Avenue meets Broadway.



When you're a boy, some days are tough,

Lying on your bed, playing punk rock and stuff.

Home is a boot camp where you gotta escape

Wanna go and wander in the ticker tape'.
[copyright Pet Shop Boys]



Alesha felt a surge of excitement growing inside him, then
suddenly exploding for in a single instant everything became
clear to him. He had recognized the strange look in people's
faces. Men found him sexy! Until that moment, until that
unsettling insight, Alesha had been innocent. He could arouse
them, make them excited, make them want him sexually. The
realization overwhelmed him. Instantly, his dancing became more
frenetic, tantalizing his bare skin against the flimsy dress. It
drove him onwards to do things he would never had done otherwise.
It was as if his heart was about to burst. The glow was there
again, if had ever truly left during the game of Truth or Dare.
He could feel it, that warmth that spread outward from his groin,
the awareness that there was a demanding hardness there, the
hunger for the presence of someone else's hand. Between his
thighs, his scrotum tightened, instinctively responding to the
irresistible urgent need to thrust and jerk his pelvis. By the
end of the first verse, Alesha's dancing had taken on a very
different style.

It was only to be expected that he was awkward at the
outset, yet his dancing quickly improved. Perhaps it was the
music, that penetrating, overpowering beat that reached into his
soul and found what was lacking. Within moments it a very
different manner of dancing. Alesha was dancing to arouse, to
generate sexual excitement, something that he had never done
before, at least not intentionally before an audience of men and
boys. There were four men who watched him with unwavering eyes,
three boys who were jealous if not menacing in their fixed gaze.



ACT VI, Scene I



Alesha warmed quickly to his task of accomplishing the dare
that he had been given. Even before the first verse was finished,
I was amused to see that he had dramatically changed his style.
Movements that had started as awkward and strained, became
faster, exaggerated, intensely sexual. His pelvis moved
constantly, thrusting back and forth in a way that emphasized
that rigid boyish part of him. He moved around the room, one by
one coming closer to all of us, thrusting his scantily clad body
into our faces, gyrating his hips with sensual abandon. Within
seconds, my penis stiffened all the way. One up, three to go!

"Yo dude, go for it!," Matt joked. "You got your boyfriend
stiff. Now go do my dad."

Alesha giggled and leaped back, elegantly skirting the table
as he spun around, twirling and wheeling from side to side until
his crotch was but an inch from Elliot's face. By then, Roland,
Ramon, and Matt were almost as excited as Alesha was.

"Take your panties off, Alesha," Roland shrieked. "Let him
see what he's missing."

"Do it, Alesha!" I called out. "Get him horny."

It was six glasses of champagne talking, that and the
incredible excitement of watching a boy contort a body that was
absolutely perfect in every way, shamelessly displaying his
sexuality with the single-minded goal of arousing another man in
order to win a dare.

It was obvious to all of us that Alesha was also caught up
in the orgiastic fervor of the moment. Without slowing, his hands
lifted up his dress, so transparent that his legs appeared only
slightly different with the flimsy gauze gathered around his
waist. He shook his pelvis furiously, at the same time as his
hands grasped his panties, jerked the tiny patch of floral print
down far enough that his hairless pubic mound was visible. At the
precise instant of exposing his most private place, he spun
around. He turned so that only I could see him. His little stiff
penis sprang free and slapped against his lean belly. The dress
fell back into place, a veil of modesty that concealed nothing
and revealed everything. As he continued dancing, the panties
started to slip lower without any help from him. When it was
nearly at his feet, Alesha kicked it halfway across the room.

Up so close, the view that Elliot had of Alesha's groin must
have been remarkable. However, to that point, no one but me was
privileged to see bare flesh. Midway through the second verse,
Matt burst into laughter.

"Enough already," Elliot shouted out. "You've gotten me
hard."

Two up and two to go. Alesha never slowed. He took a few
steps to the side, passing the coffee table once again with a
pirouette equal to anything he would do in ballet. This brought
him before Marius, who I was certain would prove to be the
easiest one of all to get hard since Alesha was wearing one of
Ramon's dresses. Alesha turned around so that his back was facing
towards Marius and Ramon. His bottom rotated in a frenzy that
made my heart pound furiously.

"Yeah, work that fanny!" Roland shouted. "Let him see your
boy-pussy, Alesha. That'll do it!"

For an instant, Alesha made eye contact with me. I nodded
eagerly, strangely proud that he was not only doing what he had
been dared to do, but doing it with passion. He flipped the dress
up and he bent over. I saw nothing except his face and the top of
his head, but Marius and Ramon saw something else. Ramon erupted
in giggles and Marius wiped his hand across his face. Again,
Alesha flashed his beautiful little naked bottom. On the third
time, his hands moved behind him, grasped his buttocks, levered
them apart.

"Wow!" Roland shouted. "That's it! Get him hard!"

"Oh my God!" Marius shrieked. "He's so darling!"

"He's nearly there," Ramon squealed. "Do it again, Lesha."

Once more was all it took. Marius all but swooned. His penis
was throbbing so hard that it was jerking up and down. A few more
times and he would have orgasmed. Three up and one to go!

Alesha leaped and pirouetted again, turning several times
before he came back to ground. It had the effect of spinning his
dress, making it fly up and out so that it appeared more like a
tutu. His body was revealed from toes to navel, yet he turned so
quickly that only a blur could be seen. When he slowed, the dress
dropped back down.

"Do it in his face, Alice," Roland bellowed over the raucous
music.

Alesha started to move closer to me, offering just enough
temptation that I was able to control myself, to stop myself from
reaching and grabbing him, although what I would have done had I
been able to catch him, I dared not think. Hurriedly, I shook my
head and gestured for him to concentrate on Julian. I could see
his rigid penis jerking under the dress whenever his pelvis
lunged back and forth. It was bouncing around, stimulating him to
make it move even more. Alesha shook his head, extracting every
thing he could from teasing me. Finally, realizing the last verse
had started, he sprang away. Now he danced seriously, giving
everything he had, using every skill. A few steps to the left and
his toes scooped under the panties he had been wearing. He kicked
them into the air, then spinning wildly, came back to Julian. He
held them out, slapping lightly back and forth across Julian's
face.

"Yes! Yes! YES!" Julian cried out. "Oh, you gorgeous little
faggot!"

"What's the matter, Julian?" Elliot taunted.

"He likes S 'n M," Roland chortled. "That's why he loves
seeing me in leather."

Julian tried to shake his head, denying what was obvious to
all of us.

"That's four," someone shouted as the music ended.

"Wow!" Roland said in awe.

Alesha stopped dancing. He glared at me, filling the silence
with an unspoken question, suddenly realizing what he had done.
He had exposed himself to four men until they were sexually
aroused, until they wanted him. He backed away, raising one hand
to cover his face. The other hand dropped to cup his groin, to
shield that part of him that was throbbing relentlessly. His face
reddened. Despite my reassuring nod, he turned and ran.

"Go after him, Sheldon," Julian said urgently. "Maybe it was
too much too soon. I'm sorry."

I sighed and slowly got to my feet. Six glasses of champagne
were too much. It was all that I could do not to fall over. I
breathed heavily. Swaying, trying to exert control. I had to get
my body moving towards the stairs without falling over. It was
all that I could do to climb the stairs. I stopped to catch my
breath for a minute. Slowly, I walked along the hall.



ACT VI, Scene II

Alesha was lying face down on the king-sized bed in the room
that Marius had assigned to us for the night. From the room's
prominent position at the top of the stairs and its size, it was
clearly intended to be the primary bedroom in the house. It was
in the same style as the rest of the house, a modernist design in
white, glass, and polished stainless steel that was dedicated to
the greater glory of the 20th Century French architect, Le
Corbusier. The Rococo-inspired room that Marius preferred to
share with Ramon was, for obvious reasons, down the hall and much
more private. Only his closest friends would ever be invited
there. I felt privileged to have been accorded that honor.

>From the doorway, I could see that Alesha was crying.
Hearing voices coming up the stairs behind me, I stepped forward
and closed the door behind me. I waited for a moment, and even
cleared my throat to see if he would respond. For some reason I
was positive that he knew I was standing there. However, I was
not at all sure of what to say to him so I approached slowly. I
was aware he was muttering to himself as much as me to while he
sobbed, but I understood less than every other word.

"....hates..... shouldn't.... done..... hate..... stop.....
better....."

And then he wailed just as I reached out to touch his back.

"Go away!"

"Alesha? What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Beaufort. I know I shouldn't have done it.
Now, you hate me. I hate them. I couldn't stop myself. I even
tried to do it better at the end."

"Yes, you were incredible, Alesha. You put on quite a show,"
I said gently. "I loved watching you. It was wonderful to see you
tease them. You were very sexy."

"I was?" He was surprised.

"Of course you were. What did you think?"

"I don't know. I feel so dumb. It wasn't like dancing at
all. It was clumsy, what I did."

"Whatever it was, it definitely worked, Alesha," I said
jovially. "You got four men excited in less time than it took to
play that New York City Boys song."

Alesha smiled at me nervously. "I guess it did work after
all." He looked a little smug. "Only yours was already hard
before I started, Mr. Beaufort," he added with a bigger smile.

"In case you hadn't noticed, it's usually like that whenever
you're around."

He giggled. "Mine too,... in case you hadn't noticed," he
said, mocking me, yet doing it without any shame at all. It was a
good sign that he was beginning to calm down.

"And I for one am glad you do, Alesha. About what happened
down stairs? It would be a hell of a shock if I was the only one
who got hard," I joked.

"You're not mad at me for doing it?"

"Of course not. I was very proud that you had the guts to do
it in the first place. I must say that what you did took me by
surprise. It was not at all what I would have expected of you."

I regretted the words as soon as I said them, and instantly,
Alesha's happiness was crushed.

"I'm sure that Matt and Roland expected me to chicken out,"
Alesha mumbled almost incoherently. "Everyone's been teasing me
all night about getting you excited and all,.... So you'd want
to,... you know,.... do sex stuff with me."

I laughed, thinking only that I should not have been at all
surprised by anything that Roland and Julian did or said. They
had been close friends of mine for quite some time, and it was
only to be expected that they placed a high priority on my
happiness. For Elliot and Matt, encouraging Alesha to take the
initiative was simply their way of welcoming him into the circle
of man-boy love. And as for Marius and Ramon, I was certain that
we had been invited for the purpose of advancing our relationship
as much as any other. Most men and boys took considerable
pleasure in seeing their friends following in their footsteps.
For my closest friends, when a gay boy lost his virginity to a
man, it nothing less than a rite of passage. It was simply a
matter of time until their hopes were realized.

"May I sit down?" I asked respectfully.

Alesha shrugged, but turned from his side onto his back and
moved away to make some room for me to sit beside him. His
expression was still moody. He avoided my eyes.

"I think it's time that we had the talk about sex, Alesha,"
I began, perhaps too seriously, yet I wanted what I was about to
say to be clearly understood. "First of all, you need to know
that I'll never do anything to hurt you. I'll never do anything
that you don't want me to do. Sex is about mutual pleasuring,
despite what you might hear from other boys. By the same token, I
won't do anything that I think you aren't ready for. Do you
understand what I'm getting at?"

Alesha nodded seriously. He wiped his hand across his eyes.
"I think so, Mr. Beaufort," he murmured.

"Some boys start young and some boys need to wait a little
longer," I added.

"Ramon said he had sex the first time when he turned nine,"
Alesha observed.

"That's true. Personally, I think it was too much, too
soon."

"Oh!"

"Alesha, the point of having sex is to have fun. I'm not
saying that you have to be older than you are. A lot of boys are
having sex at eleven, and some of them are doing it even sooner.
However, a boy has to want to do it a great deal to be able to
enjoy it. And one thing, the thing that Marius did with Ramon
when he turned nine, well, in my opinion that's something that
people should only do when they're very much in love."

"Roland said it doesn't hurt all that much,... not even the
first time, and it only gets better after that," Alesha
acknowledged with a shy smile.

I nodded. "That's not completely true. Every boy is
different, but it's close enough for now. However, no matter how
much I might want to do that with you, I wouldn't do it until
you're good and ready, Alesha."

I leaned over him and stroked my fingers along his chest
from one tiny nipple to the other. He shivered and after
following my hand closely for a few moments, gradually eased back
to lie down on the bed. My fingers glided across his slender
chest and gently circled over his right breast, focusing on the
little dark dot until it became pointed and firm.

"That feels nice," Alesha murmured sleepily.

"I hope so. It's been a long night. Are you tired?"

At the very moment of shaking his head in denial, he yawned.
I smiled.

"You're a stronger man than I am, Gunga Din," I said
wistfully.

Alesha regarded me strangely, causing me to wonder whether I
would have to explain who Gunga Din was.

"You limpin' lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din!", I quoted.

"Didn't Kipling write that?"

I was open-mouthed for a few seconds before I nodded. Alesha
was brighter than any boy I had ever known.

"Well, you're like him. I've done nothing for most of the
day except read, and you've been going non-stop since you woke
up. You should be exhausted."

He smiled, ever the shy boy, while he gazed back at me. "I'm
stiff from dancing, but I'm not all that sleepy yet," he
murmured.

His voice changed in tone. Despite what he said he still
sounded somnolent, yet it was also suggestive and slightly
deeper. What I heard hinted at desire, at a yearning that all too
soon haunts a boy like Alesha. 'Nature's plan' for him gave no
respite. When other boys began the path to maturity by looking at
girls, boys like Alesha sought out friends for other things,
primarily sex. Julian called puberty a 'time bomb of lust'.
Ticking away within his head. Moving him ever closer to
fulfilling his inborn role. Once started into the hormonal throes
of sexual maturity, Alesha would never look back.

"Would you like me to rub your back?" I asked gently, moving
ever closer to fulfill my own destiny it seemed.

How often had I touched Alesha's body using a back-rub as
the pretext? On the surface, a back rub was an honest, if not
entirely innocent way of making contact with his bare skin. He
nodded without hesitation. Was it habit forming, those gentle
circling tickles that I gave him to relax his muscles? However,
it was more than a simple massage that Alesha desired, just as I
wanted more than to merely rub his back. We both realized that at
some point soon, I would remove his dress. The excuse would
probably be that it was getting in the way, or some such thing.He
nodded abruptly, not as if making a momentous decision. Yet, I
realized even then that we both knew that at some point, and very
soon at that, that if I took that step much more would happen.
What would happen was beyond either of us to control.

I glanced down to follow the length of Alesha's spine, a
ridge of knuckles beneath that flimsy chiffon dress. Without
underwear, Alesha was very exposed. I was not mistaken when I saw
a mysterious darker zone between his small inviting buttocks, or
the graceful curves where each domed cheek intersected the
cylindrical shapes of his upper thighs. The geometry of a boy had
no equation in complex mathematics, but through symmetry and
flowing curves possessed the same perfection.

Slowly, I rubbed along his back. At the same time, I could
not help but glance lower down and look between his outstretched
legs. There was no secret of what was under the chiffon. A boy's
sex organs were strange looking things when viewed from behind
and upside down. In all likelihood, his penis was standing up
along his belly, hidden underneath him. All I could discern was
his scrotum, and that was what amused me. My first thought was
that it was far too small, for what I observed was a pitiful
walnut husk in size and color and the faint roundness caused by
the two jellybean insides. There was barely enough to show he was
a boy. Even Ramon was larger with his bulbous lump, and his
genitals were tiny. Then, I tried to imagine what it would be
like when he was older. He would never be large, not by any
stretch of the imagination. Yet, it suited him, at least given
what I knew of him. No woman would ever feel his hardness between
her legs. What would happen when he wanted to look more feminine.
Would Alesha end up having the operation? The possibility was
simultaneously exciting and depressing.

"You can touch me there,... if you want," Alesha offered
softly.

"Are you sure?"

He nodded slightly, shifting his legs further apart. Before
I looked up, I saw his penis, bowing beneath his contracted
scrotum.

"Thank you," I whispered back.

I felt honored to be allowed to touch him in that special,
very private place, yet for a long while, I continued my massage
along his back and upper thighs. I enjoyed that uncomplicated
touching. It was both sensual and on-the-surface at least,
innocuous. However, it was not harmless, and both of us were well
aware of the effect it was having. Simple touching reduced our
inhibitions, but the mystery of his body lured me on. That was
how it had started at the restaurant, that and my inherent need
to give him pleasure. This time, Alesha sensed my apprehension
and simply laid his hand upon my thigh, and kept it there, his
fingers pressing between mine. It began innocently, but needed
encouragement to develop. I carefully restricted where my hands
went to on his back--never lower than the start of his crack--
Alesha realized that he would have to take the initiative if he
wanted me to do something more.

Some five minutes passed before he became more aggressive.
For five long minutes he dozed, in near-sybaritic pleasure,
content to have his aching muscles stretched and squeezed, and
the tender skin tantalized by the anticipation of something more.
Some time during that five minutes, I straddled his legs and
leaned forward over him to work directly on his narrow shoulders.

. My hands moved up and down his lean back, always comforted
by his steady breathing, yet aware that I was having an effect.
Up and down, massaging his shoulders, to the sides and along his
ribs, into the softness of his underbelly, then his hips, moving
to knead his firm buttocks

"Take it off," Alesha sighed dreamily.

"Are you sure?"

Again he nodded affirmatively."I want you to touch me
properly."

I settled back onto my knees, with my heels supporting my
weight. Automatically, Alesha lifted his lower body up, his hips
and thighs, allowing me to easily draw the flimsy dress up to his
belly. I stopped there, with the delicate material pulled into
folds. It was not unlike revealing a precious gift, a gift of
flawless flesh. When I stopped, Alesha promptly twisted over so
that he was lying face up. I swallowed, silently casting my gaze
back and forth and along his splendid body. His penis had already
attained sufficient hardness to lift above his groin. Even as I
watched, it extended upward and outward, stiffening until it
hovered above his lower belly. Alesha giggled at the sight we
both enjoyed. Then, he looked up meet my eyes.



"You're very beautiful, Alesha," I said in awe.

"I'd rather be something else," Alesha said awkwardly.

"Such as?"

"Sexy," he replied faintly.

"But you are. If only you knew how sexy," I added with a
longing sigh.

"Like now?"

"Pardon?"

"Mine is hard, Mr. Beaufort," he observed with a slight
glance down, "so if I'm sexy then yours must be as well," he
ended with a teasing giggle.

"Ah, that," I remarked. "Maybe not, Alesha. It gets more
difficult when you're older and I'm afraid I might have imbibed a
little too much champagne tonight."

"It will still get in the way when you do my front," Alesha
said softly.

"What will get in the way?"

For a moment I thought he was talking about his penis. His
fingers brushed across the chiffon that was gathered at his
waist.

"Oh, the dress, you mean? Yes, I suppose it will. Do you
want me to take it off, Alesha?"

"Please."

I lifted the folds of material further up his body while he
arched his back to assist me. By then it would have been much
easier if he had been sitting up, yet there was something very
exciting about undressing a recumbent boy. Lying down the way he
was, sent a powerful thrill through me because he was so
obviously submitting to me. Although I had seldom had the
pleasure, I preferred boys who were passive, accepting their
position beneath a man, acquiescing to his needs, fulfilling
their own desires as secondary, always compliant and docile when
it came to sex.

With only a little difficulty I managed to get the dress
over his head and shoulders, and down his arms. It would have
been easy to simply discard it on the floor. Instead, I got up
from the bed and carefully folded it, and placed on steel and
white leather Wassily chair. As I turned to come back to the bed,
Alesha watched me with thoughtful eyes. I wondered what was going
through his mind. Was he feeling the same desire? His penis was
unrelenting in its stiffness.

"I think we're going to sleep in the same bed," Alesha
observed nervously.

Was it presumptuous of me to assume we would even share the
same room, let alone the same bed? I tried to be noncommittal. I
kept my distance.

"Uh, yes, I suppose so, Alesha. If you'd rather, Alesha, I
can ask Marius for another room?"

He shook his head slightly. "That's okay. It's just that
I've never slept with anyone before."

"Not even your mama?"

"Not that I can remember." He smiled uncertainly. He was as
nervous as I was.

He continued to watch me. Not moving, just concentrating his
child's attention on what was bothering him. It was enough to
wilt the hardest penis. I stood still, waiting by the side of the
chair, wondering what would happen during the night if we were in
the same room.

"You've never had a friend over for the night?" I asked
meekly.

Again, Alesha shook his head.

"Well, we'll have to try to remedy that before you finish
school," I said. "Are you sure you don't mind sharing the bed
with me?"

"No, it's okay," he answered tentatively.

"I'll try not to snore too loudly. If I do, just put a
pillow over my face."

Alesha laughed.

"I didn't think to bring any pajamas with me. Did you?" I
asked, taking a few tentative steps towards the bed.

"Um,-"

"I'll take that as a no. But neither did I."

"Oh."

"We could probably borrow some."

Alesha looked at me blankly. He was too young not to be
innocent.

"You don't want to sleep with me if we're both in the nude?"

"Um, well,.... yes,... that would be nice," I mumbled.

Alesha giggled. "Do you think anyone else is wearing pajamas
tonight, except Maria and Ramona, of course?"

"Probably not. If you'd prefer, one of us can sleep under
the sheet, and one can sleep above it," I suggested pointedly.

This had to be on his terms, the consequences, assuming
there would be consequences of sleeping naked together, fully
accepted and without reservation. I reached the side of the bed
and risked glancing down. His hand was over his penis, his
fingers cupping his scrotum, squeezing gently the same way that I
had begun the night before.

Alesha shrugged and absently, or perhaps very deliberately,
licked his lips. His thumb moved around the tiny head of his
penis and slipped beneath the short shaft. I breathed out. From
personal experience I knew how soft, how hard, how tender that
part of his body was.

"I don't see why we need to do that Mr. Beaufort. You've
touched me there already and it's not like I haven't touched
you," he reasoned.

His voice was very soft, his words fleeting, his intention
lingering in my mind. Again, in his own inimitable way, he was
telling me what he wanted.

I did not remind him that he had yet to touch my bare flesh.
Perhaps that would occur during the night. I could only hope so.
>From the shy smile on his face, I suspected that he was in the
mood to have some fun. I was. Despite that, I did not want Alesha
to see me undressing. I reached down and switched off the lights,
spot lights that shone on various object of arts, and concealed
lights that illuminated the room by reflecting off the skylights
high above. Suddenly, the room was dimmer, although not
everything was obscure. Alesha's naked body became darker, more
sensual, and although it barely seemed possible, infinitely more
arousing. I had to force myself to concentrate on unfastening the
buttons on my shirt. My hands were shaking. I could not remember
being that way with any other boy. I could feel his eyes on me,
watching intently.

The moonlight was enough to see by after a person's eyes had
adjusted to the dark. I unfastened my belt, opened my zipper,
pushed my trousers down to my knees. I had to sit down on the bed
to remove my socks and shoes and pull my trousers past my feet.
When I stood up, my penis had erected a tent within my plaid silk
boxers. I took a step back away from the bed, standing in a shaft
of silvery light.

"I haven't brushed my teeth yet, Mr. Beaufort," Alesha said
awkwardly. His eyes were fixed, staring. I felt very exposed.

I held my hand out. "Come on my beautiful Sugar Plum. We can
do them together."

Alesha rolled off the bed and effortlessly came to his feet.
I envied him his flexibility, his ease and speed of movement, and
more, that he was sober. He walked towards me, one hand
outstretched and reaching for mine. His fingers brushed my hand,
slipping between my fingers, squeezing gently. We stood there,
face to face, in the almost-darkness. Alesha naked, me nearly so,
with just enough covering to contain what was left of my
virility. His head tilted back, gazing upward. His eyes were
liquid, glistening pools. His lips parted slightly. His tongue
licked slowly across his lips. He wanted to be kissed.

His eyes closed when we kissed. Closed tightly. His arms
locked around my neck. He stood on tiptoes. Reaching up, while I
bent down. From the outset, the kiss was passionate. Not dry at
all, but wet and wild, and our wriggling saliva-covered tongues
finally found a friend to play with and became engaged. We hugged
tightly, pressing our bodies close together. It was very
different to the night before when I pushed my trousers-covered
penis against his jacket-covered back. This time Alesha was bare
and his tender skin was exposed to my groping eager hands. Was it
possible that anything could be so soft? My penis, hungry and
demanding, pressed through the waistband of my boxers against his
slender body, seeming to me to be as thick as his narrow waist.

He did not pull away. Instead, the boy pressed back and
locked his hands behind my neck. We kissed, sharing lips and
tongues, heedlessly disregarding hygiene. Between kisses, he made
a funny sound, urgent mewing as he quivered in my arms. No boy
had ever been so charged with passion. His erection stabbed
against my thighs with erratic sudden jabs. He was awkward and
inexperienced, but he knew exactly what he wanted.

I was startled when Alesha's hands moved from my neck,
dropping slowly down my back to my hips, urgently pulling on the
waist of my boxers. They came down easily, sliding across my
rigid penis until I was free and my bare organ compressed into
Alesha's warm belly skin. It reached nearly to his nipples,
discharging its clear slippery fluid on skin that had never been
tainted by a man. He stopped there, aware of where my penis was,
giggling softly and obviously happy that he had achieved contact,
restoring his arms around my neck. We kissed again, deeper,
harder, longer than before, pressing bare flesh together
simultaneously.

"You're a sexy little thing, aren't you?" I whispered in his
ear.

Alesha grinned and nodded eagerly. He took the lead in the
kiss that followed, doing his best to prove that my observation
was correct. This time, his tongue penetrated well beyond my
teeth, his lips slurping wetly against mine. Then, when my tongue
eased between his lips, he sucked as hard as he could, pulling it
deeply into his mouth.For a Russian boy, or more correctly a boy
from the Ukraine, he had perfected the French kiss in a very
short amount of time.

"So who told you what to do?" I teased when he parted to get
our breaths back.

"Mostly Roland. Ramona too, but he's too shy to say all that
much,..." Alesha smirked. "Matt wasn't very helpful. He thinks
you should just fuck me and get it over."

"There should never be a rush to do that. Matt started when
he was much too young in my opinion. You'll be able to tell him
what to do soon enough," I said soothingly.

"Do you really thing I'm sexy, Mr. Beaufort?"

"Hm,... Do you want it on a scale?" I teased.

Alesha smirked. "Only if you put the other boys on it too."

I laughed, still hugging him tightly. His little erection
was pushing against my thigh, rubbing from side to side as Alesha
moved his hips around. Playfully, I patted his bottom, then gave
it a light slap just to listen to the smack against his firm
flesh. He pressed even harder, squeezing his excited penis into
my leg.

"Okay, on a ten point scale," I began laboriously. "I'd say
Ramon is an eight for me."

"You don't like fem-boys?" he asked seriously.

"Oh, but I do, Alesha. Very much in fact. Ramon is very
cute. He has a very nice body and he's sweet."

"But?" Alesha prompted.

"He's too restrained. He never lets himself go. He's much
too serious. Of course, you're serious too, Alesha, but you also
laugh."

I reinforced that point by kissing him again. It was
intended to be barely more than a brush of my lips, yet Alesha
kept me there for nearly a minute. I could think of only one boy
who had been so kissable and for him, kissing me was a way of
getting what he wanted.

"That's true. He almost never laughs," Alesha agreed. He
licked his lips, touching with his tongue where mine had been
"Okay, now do Roland."

"Roland is about a nine, or at least he was until a while
ago."

"Because he's starting to mature?" he asked directly.

"Yes, partly that. I think it's nice that he's letting
Julian shave his groin, otherwise he'd be an eight or lower."

"So once a boy starts getting hair and stuff, he drops down
the scale?" Alesha asked solemnly.

I laughed at that, even though it was largely true.

"Not always, Alesha. Roland, well,.... I'm not sure how to
put this,.... Roland is,...well I'm fairly certain that he's
going to be a dominant when he's older."

"I think he's nice," Alesha said quickly. "Even though he
always wants to be the one who's in charge."

I laughed. "That's one meaning of dominant. However, I was
thinking of something else."

"Like what?"

"For gays, one person usually prefers to be on top and the
other is on the bottom," I explained.

I chose not to venture into the unique attributes of those
positions, in particular whose penis went into whose behind. Not
that it mattered, because Alesha giggled anyway. It seemed as if
the other boys had elucidated the basic roles in sexual activity,
doubtless referring to appropriately descriptive terminology in
addition to the classic 'top and bottom'. I explained anyway.

"Anyway, they're called the top and bottom for that reason,
but more often than not the man on top dominates his partner in
other ways as well," I continued.

"And you don't like the idea of Roland being a top even when
he's older."

"Something like that."

I kissed the top of Alesha's head. Then, taking the
initiative with the idea of demonstrating how sexy he was, I
guided him slowly back towards the bed. We stopped beside it,
resisting the inevitable passion that would start again the
instant that we lay down together. We had not brushed our teeth,
but missing one time would not create immediate cavities. He
looked up at me with trusting eyes, eyes that were joyful and
full of excitement. For once, I had no second thoughts. However,
I fully intended to control what happened. He deserved that much
and more.

"Okay, how about Matt?" Alesha asked curiously.

Was he stalling? The backs of his knees were against the
bed. he was more nervous at that moment than all time I had known
him.

"Matt is very good looking, like his dad. However, he's only
a seven for me."

"Why? Because he already has hair, and he's sort of dominant
as well?"

I laughed and ruffled my fingers through Alesha's hair. It
was silk, so fine and soft that the ends could not be felt. I
wondered what he would look like with longer hair. It was a
fascinating thought. Like Ramon, would it help complete the
transition to another gender?

"Do you think he's sexy?" Alesha asked teasingly.

"Do you?" I replied with a smile that expressed what I
thought.

"No! Not really. I liked the harness thing he was wearing,"
Alesha giggled. "You did too, didn't you Mr. Beaufort?"

Then, for no reason at all, but intended from the start, his
head dropped down. I followed. We looked together.

There was a long silence as we gazed at each other.

"He's big." It was said in awe, a boy's appreciation of a
man's much larger part, a thing that was almost threatening to
his own.

"Who me?"

Alesha had taken to rubbing his belly on my penis. Laughing
I pushed him off. "Do you want me to make a mess on you?"

"Yes."

"How do you know about that?" I asked.

He giggled softly, not answering, but saying as much with
silence as anything he could have said. He knew, and that was
enough.

"You feel nice," Alesha murmured. "I like being together
like this."

I did something then that perhaps I should not have done. I
eased my hands down, ostensibly to bring our bodies together but
to keep him from moving against me. My hands settled over his
small rounded buttocks, one cheek in each hand. The globes were
small, smaller than a woman's breasts, yet they filled the cups
of my hands. Alesha sighed wistfully, contentedly. He relaxed, no
longer straining upward to kiss. Instead, his lips found my
chest, within an inch of my right nipple. For a few seconds he
kissed, then his lips moved across that vital inch. He suckled
like a baby, but it had the effect of making me tremble. He
nibbled, sucked, licked, teased and tickled. He made my nipple
hard and pointed, and then he chewed it gently. Finally, the
pleasure became so great that it hurt and I eased his head away.

"How,- how did you,- learn,- to do that?" I gasped.

Alesha smiled shyly.

"Let me guess. It doesn't sound like something Matt would
do. Roland might, but he's probably more interested in getting
fucked. It has to be something that Ramon told you about?"

Alesha nodded gleefully. "He dared me to give you a hickey
there."

"Oh he did, did he?"

It was all I could do not to laugh at the boys' conspiracy.
A lot of what happened between boys and men was a game to them.
It was safer that way, since boys seldom had the emotional
maturity to deal with the complications of love.

Alesha nodded again, smirking as he licked his delicious-
looking lips to make them slippery. Clearly, he planned on
continuing on my nipple.

"What if I got you down on to the bed and made hickeys all
across your belly?"

"I don't mind. Just so long as my leotard will cover them. I
have a rehearsal session at the Academy tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow? But it's Sunday?"

Alesha shrugged. "I told you about practice at dinner,
remember? It's only a few weeks to graduation. That's why I had
to practice the Sailor Dance all day today. I had to catch up."

"Then we'd best get to bed," I said gently. "You can't be
staying up all night if there's a rehearsal tomorrow."

Alesha nodded in acquiescence. The Slavic mind was easily
trained to be obedient. He slid away and sat down on the bed. A
moment later he had moved away to make room for me and was
stretched full-length. His ability to make any movement look
completely effortless and incredibly graceful was remarkable.
Slowly, I eased down beside him. Again our eyes met. His eyes
signaled desire, rehearsal or not. I was not at all sure what I
was thinking except that the naked boy beside me had no equal.
Just sight of him lying there, still aroused, was sufficient to
remove any resolve that I might have had. I wavered, sitting
there, looking at his little throbbing penis in the dim light. My
decision was made for me as Alesha nodded slightly.

I knelt over his legs, my head directly above his compact
groin. My mind was slow, dulled, with a lingering sensation that
something was still not quite right. I wished I had not drunk so
much. If ever I needed to be sober, it was now. I was so tired
that it was all that I could do not to yawn. I shook my head,
trying to clear away the cobwebs. That tiny part of Alesha's body
stood up and away from his lower belly, luring me towards it. It
certainly was not sleepy. In fact, it was as straight as an
arrow, swelling noticeably at the head until it puckered at the
tip. It was almost as thin as my little finger. I smiled,
realizing that if his foreskin was retracted, it even had a small
barb on the end.

"What's so funny?" Alesha asked.

"Nothing," I replied. "I was thinking about how dangerous a
weapon this is."

"Huh? Dangerous?"

"It's stiff enough to do serious damage." I burped, shook my
dulled head again.

Alesha giggled. He did what all boys eventually learn to do
through self discovery. He tightened those muscles in his groin
and caused his penis to jerk up and down. I laughed.

"So you've taught it how to dance, I see."

Alesha nodded. "Mr. Beaufort?-."

He paused, waiting until my eyes lifted up to meet his. He
blinked uncertainly, then, his eyes flickering in unspoken
recognition of what we were both feeling, deliberately dropped
down. Permission granted? He nodded again, slowly, no longer
awkward. It should have been enough.

"Are you sure, Alesha?" I asked.

He signaled with a slight nod, yet his eyes said something
else.

"Okay, Alesha," I began. I took a deep breath. "There's
something I have to say. You have to be willing to do things with
me. If someone does something against your will, that's wrong,
but if you want it to happen, then it can be, it should be very
nice. You need to show the other person either what you want to
do, or that it's okay for them to do something to you."

He nodded again, this time more confidently. I wished I was
sober, but if I was sober, I would have stopped. It was happening
too quickly. There needed to be love for both of us, not just my
love for him

"Okay," I said quietly. "Part of being old enough to have
sex is being able to show someone what it is that you want them
to do, or not do. If you can't do that, then you're too young to
do it."

"Will it hurt?" he asked suddenly.

"Hurt? For heaven's sake, Alesha. I already told you that
I'm not going to do anything like that."

"Mama said,-"

I sighed, long and hard, and out of growing frustration. I
was certain that his mother had been trying to help him, trying
to make things easier for him, perhaps for me as well. She had
told me as much. `Sometimes he needed a push to get him going',
or words to that effect. However, I resented her intrusion. Each
time, Alesha had introduced her it promptly diminished my desire.
This time, unlike before, I was able to control my irritation.
The alcohol at work?

"What did she say, Alesha?" I asked patiently.

He averted his eyes, reddening with shame. I was beginning
to realize what a complex person a pre-teen boy could be. At one
moment he could be laughing, and the next, consumed by guilt. He
shrugged, not about to answer unless I pushed him harder. It was
then that I decided to take the initiative. It was not a matter
of wanting to have sex with him, but simply of the realization of
what I was dealing with. He had lived so long in her shadow that
he could not be himself.

"Well?" I persisted.

It was clear that he was not going to reply.  I reached
forward and gently caressed his penis. Just once. It was hot and
absolutely rigid. It quivered, defying me to touch it again.
Alesha swallowed nervously.

"Did that hurt?"

Alesha quickly shook his head. My hand came back and slowly
settled over his short hardness. I felt sorry for him. His eyes
met mine. I saw affection there, along with growing desire, and
uncertainty. He was still afraid, afraid to accept what he was
despite his mother's coaching and what he felt inside. His lips
moved as if preparing to say something. I gently rested my hand
on his penis. It was both soft and hard, like a red-hot metal rod
sheathed in silk.

"Does it feel nice, Alesha?" I asked. "You have to answer
this time. No nodding allowed."

"Yeah,- it's nice," Alesha blurted out.

"And it doesn't hurt?" I queried.

"No! It's nice. I really like it when you hold it."

"That's the way it's supposed to be, Alesha," I said
reassuringly. "It's about feeling good, not feeling bad. It's not
about being hurt."

"But,-"

"Can you tell me what she said?"

He shook his head slightly, then thought about it. "She
said,- she,- Mr. Beaufort,- you'd want to,-" He choked then, and
swallowed several times. "Do it-. in my butt,-. And the other
boys,-. That's all they talk about,-. And,- I want to,-.I think,-
When they asked me,-. during the game tonight about putting
something in there,-. I was so afraid,-."

I smiled. "There's nothing to be afraid about. So have you?"

"Have I what,- oh,-."

The expression on his faceless was priceless. I wondered
what he had used. From personal experience and what other men had
told me, I knew that boys could be very creative. Most boys
started with a finger in the shower. If they enjoyed it, they
quickly progressed to other things. I had never heard of a gay
boy who didn't enjoy anal stimulation. Perhaps it was the litmus
test of sexual orientation.

"What was it, Alesha? What did you use?" I asked pointedly,
yet smiling to let him know that I was amused.

Alesha glowered at me. "My finger," he said reluctantly.

I winked back at him to show approval. "Good for you! I
think I used my finger too the first time. And you do it in the
shower, I suppose." He nodded once, visibly embarrassed. "So,-
was it nice,-or did it hurt?"

He shrugged dispassionately. "It was okay," he admitted,
still hesitant.

"Just okay?"

He smiled slightly and, realizing that his smile was as good
as affirming that he had enjoyed it, he bashfully lowered his
head.

"Your mother said your bottom would hurt a lot when you had
sex, didn't she?" I asked gently.

"So did Matt. And Ramon too. It still hurts him sometimes,
even now, and he's been doing it for years, he said."

I nodded understandingly. "Well Alesha, a lot depends on how
often you do it. Ramon and Marius don't do it very often so it
probably gets tight between times."

"Will we? You know,- do it a lot?"

I shrugged and did my best to appear nonchalant. "We'll see
when the time comes."

"Roland said that they did it a lot. So did Matt."

"I'm not surprised. However, remember what I just said about
there not being a rush to do it?"

"Yeah," Alesha admitted. "But when we do?-."

"You'll have to wait and see."

"What else do guys do when they want to be together?" Alesha
asked blandly.

I laughed and he grinned back at me. He had sounded
innocent, yet I was confident that even if his mother had not,
then his friends had given him a thorough grounding in how two
males had sex.

"Hm,-" I pretended to ponder the `what else'.

"Roland said something about,-" Alesha began shyly. He took
a deep breath. "About putting,-. You know,- your peenie in my
mouth," he ended in a rush.

"Did your mother discuss that possibility as well?"

Again, there was another of those priceless `caught-with-
his-hand-in-his-pants' looks. I nearly laughed, but realizing
that he was discussing something of the utmost importance to him,
I regarded him with serious thought.

"I hope she did, Alesha, because it's one of the most
important ways for men and boys to show how much they like each
other. It's called `fellatio', but it's usually referred to as
`cock-sucking', and by the way that's not something I want to
hear you say when anyone else is around. Doing it is not
something to be ashamed off, but it's also not something you
should do with another person until you are very close to them."

Alesha thought about that for a few moments. He licked his
bottom lip tentatively, then slowly lifted his head to meet my
eyes.

"Isn't it dirty?"

"Hm,-. Well,-. I suppose it might be,-. But only if someone
didn't wash regularly. It tastes a little bit strange for a
minute or so," I added. "It's not unusual for gays to do it."

Again, Alesha considered that. "I don't know if I could do
that. What's it like? I mean the taste of another person's
peenie?"

I chuckled to myself, yet managed to keep a straight face.
"How about if I do it to you and then I'll tell you what it
tastes like?" I suggested boldly.

"You'd do that to me?" he blurted out. "Why would you want
to do that to me?"

I struggled again to remain serious, barely able to control
my laughter. "Well, for one reason, I want to show you how much I
like you. That's the reason why you do it by the way."

"Oh,-"

I think that was the first time that Alesha realized that I
was fond of him. He gazed at me, barely cognizant that my hand
was still cupping his groin, his penis as hard as it could be.
His scrotum had relaxed, the silky delicate folds moist beneath
the tips of my fingers. As my fingers gently fondled that
sensitive skin, his tiny testicles squirmed away. He sighed with
delight, discovering sensations for the first time. My thumb
caressed his short shaft, stroking the tender area directly below
the swelling of his glans. His feet drew higher up the bed, his
toes curling over. My thumb and first finger pressed into the
thin shaft, pressing steadily downward. The end of his foreskin
stretched as it tried to pass over the helmet-shaped head. It was
tight, but not so tight that I needed to stop. I was very
careful, working the skin down cautiously as I watched his face
for the first indication that it hurt.

"What are you doing?"

His voice was little more than a whisper. He stared at his
penis, watching his glans appear. It was crimson-blue and swollen
so hard that the little knob all but glowed.

"This is your foreskin," I answered. "It's supposed to pull
back to expose the end."

Alesha nodded uncertainly. "It hurts a bit."

"I know. Most boys can't get the skin pulled back until they
masturbate on a regular basis."

"Mama told me,- I should start to,-." He stopped and smiled
shyly. "I tried to do it myself a few times, but it was stung."

I smiled back at him. "Usually, when a boy is young, it
adheres to the head, but if you're careful, it won't hurt too
much. There!"

The end of Alesha's foreskin slipped back behind his glans.
He shivered. It was probably the second time that it had gone
back so far. The skin was so tight that the blood flow to the end
of his penis was restricted. The glans flared and darkened, no
longer crimson but purple. The pressure was so great that the
slit in the end gaped open like a tiny hungry mouth.

"Does it hurt, Alesha?"

"It,- tingles,-. sort of a funny feeling,- it's not really
bad or anything,-"

I nodded comfortingly, using my thumb to move the bunched up
skin slowly up and down. At the same time, I used my fingers to
fondle his testicles, soothing away the discomfort of what was
foreign to him. His eyes flickered. He winced slightly. His knees
drew closer. Beneath my fingers, his penis became even stiffer. I
used my fingernails to scratch the bottom of his scrotum,
reaching the edge of his perineum before he sighed again. I
allowed a single finger to probe the rippled line that lead into
his crack, even touching the moist head of the depression before
withdrawing back to rub his scrotum and its precious contents.

"There isn't a boy alive who doesn't like his balls played
with," I said softly.

Alesha smiled. His knees shifted apart again, further and
further, giving me unfettered access. Already he was being
exposed to sensations that he had never realized could exist.

"In a few moments, I'm going to suck your peenie, Alesha," I
said quietly. "I promise I won't bite it off. If you don't want
me to do it, just push my head away a little bit. I won't be
upset."

"What if I want you to do it?"

I finally laughed. "Then do the opposite. If you pull my
head down onto you I'll probably get the idea that you want your
penis sucked."

Alesha giggled. Both hands lifted up. His fingers slipped
past my ears, his thumbs caressing my forehead. Then
deliberately, slowly, he pulled my head down towards his groin.
There were no preliminaries. I opened my mouth and took his
little cock into me, settling my lips at the very base. His
erection slid along my tongue and poked against the roof of my
mouth. My nose pushed into the soft pale-skinned mound of his
pubis. I moved around, holding his penis captive until I found a
more comfortable position. My chin brushed his scrotum, nudging
his testicles. I closed my jaw, carefully allowing my teeth to
sink into his throbbing member just enough that the pressure
increased in his erection. Alesha didn't not move. Already the
level of trust was building. I took all of it in. A single gulp,
my jaws stretched wide, guiding his scrotum and testicles past my
lips and teeth so that I could suck them in. I pulled the skin
taut, holding his penis wedged into my cheek.

Alesha did not move at first. He lay perfectly still,
absorbing the strange sensation in his groin, accepting that he
could be pleasured by what I was doing to him. Yet, his fingers
stayed on my head, reassuring both of us that he could move my
mouth away at any time he wanted. However, his fingers relaxed,
merely stroking through my hair. His thumbs rubbed behind my
ears, urging me to begin to move. So I began that up and down
motion that all men know but very few have the opportunity to
practice on a boy. Alesha groaned and tensed beneath me. His
fingers tightened, released, relaxed, then pushed again. He
wanted more. Up and down, slowly moving, leaving his sex slippery
with saliva for a fraction of a second before sinking down again
to enclose it in the hot cavern of my mouth.

I could feel his body twitching, shifting, trembling under
me. Again, the faint mewing sounds he made when he was excited
beyond his ability to contain. My teeth closed onto the slick
skin being very careful not to bite, and with my fingers helping
from below, I pressed down and brought his delicate glans out
from its protective sheath. Then, he squirmed, lifting his
buttocks up from the bed every time that my head threatened to
leave him longer than a moment. Up and down, endlessly gentle but
especially on the exposed and tender button mushroom on the end,
slowly, deliberately giving him an ecstasy that he had never
known. Sometimes, he shuddered and gasped, whimpering softly as
if I had hurt him. But the only pain was pleasure in the extreme,
and I kept on salving his throbbing penis between my lips. It did
nothing to pacify him of course, but then I did not expect it to
have that effect. Alesha's torment grew until he writhed, trying
to escape the sensations that I had released inside him. A glance
downward showed his toes curled up, his legs splayed out, heels
digging into the bed, thighs straining to lift his bottom up.

Then, so close to orgasm, I did the thing that most men do
to boys just before they climax. My hand slipped beneath Alesha's
buttocks, pressed between his cheeks, a finger probed cautiously
against his tender virgin anus. Alesha gasped. He had never
experienced an orgasm like that one, so different to his one and
only time. He came in a rush, strangling a cry in his throat. His
body bucked, once, then again. I felt the pulses rushing from his
penis, no more than tremors, each trying to eject all of nothing
but coming up empty and dry, of course. Still pleasure was there
to be felt nonetheless. His buttocks clenched instinctively, his
taut knot, like an anemone, denying further access to the finger
that wanted to get just a little bit deeper inside him.

Urgently, Alesha pushed my head away, holding his hands
tightly to restrict my movement until his anxiety passed. I
stroked his legs, the lean lithe legs of a boy who danced, yet so
smooth and soft that it seemed as if they had never worked.
Beneath my hands, his body was hot and flushed, yet he shivered
from my touch.

"It's okay, Sugar Plum," I whispered in his ear once I had
laid down beside him.

I cradled him in my right arm, like a baby, taking all of
his shoulders and chest in my one armed embrace. My fingers
played with his buttocks, stroking the entrance to his crack.

"It's supposed to feel like that?" Alesha asked uncertainly.
His voice wavered, breaking awkwardly as he tried to express the
sensations that still lingered deep within him.

"Huh?"

"Like that?" he murmured.

"How did it feel?"

He thought for a few seconds before he answered. "I don't
know. Like I was going to explode or something."

I nodded, reached across and stroked his cheek with my left
hand.

"And it only gets better," I said softly. It was impossible
not to smile.

"That's what Roland said. I don't see how it could."

I laughed, not at Alesha and his seriousness, but at the
sheer wonder of it all. How could a boy's body harbor such
intense sensations for eleven years without being discovered
sooner? Was it simply a matter of opportunity or was there some
inherent timetable, part of a grander plan for sexual awakening?.
Was some gland within the brain ticking away and waiting until
the moment was right? Had I been brash, rushed into something
that he should have waited for? No matter, Alesha was now wide
awake even though his eyes were flickering tiredly.

"Do I do it to you now?" he whispered.

I heard unwillingness perhaps because I wanted to. I would
always wonder what would have happened if I had said `yes'. Yes,
oh yes, Alesha, please do the thing my lust demanded, but I knew
better. Doing that was not for an inexperienced eleven year old
boy whose only motivation came from his mother's well-intended
instruction and his friends' suggestions. I was not that much of
an oaf. Instead, I smiled and shook my head. A minute later, as
Alesha dropped off to sleep curled up trustfully beside me, I
realized that I had done what was appropriate. My time would
come.

My erection nagged me for an hour, before it, like me found
solace in sleep. It was a relentless stiffness, aching for his
mouth, the embrace of his untainted lips, the slippery eel of his
tongue, the scrape of his teeth.



ACT VI Scene IIIct



The next morning, when I was sober, but still so sleepy that
I barely grasped what I was going, I availed myself of the
pleasure once again of realizing that I was in love with him.
Alesha. His name alone filled me with happiness. And with the
renewal of my love came unbridled lust. Even that was different.
It was different to anything I had felt before. Certainly it was
unlike the night before, perhaps because my mind was free of the
cloud of liquor, yet hazy with the lingering unfocused sense that
attended just waking up after a sleeping not long enough for
complete awareness to be restored. Or perhaps, as more likely was
the case, I did not need to qualify the satisfaction of our
mutual need with warnings about doing only what he wanted. No
explanation was required. It happened because we both wanted it
to happen.

I awoke with an erection, a hard demanding urge that grew
stronger with every second. I quickly discovered with an
exploratory yet very cautious brush of my hand between his legs,
that state of morning stiffness was no different for Alesha. It
was both reassuring and unsettling to discover the short wedge
that paralleled his lower belly. Some men call it `piss-hard',
but I had always found it to be refreshing that a body could be
aroused and ready even before one's eyes were open. I smiled
contentedly, remembering how nice it could be to wake up and have
a naked boy beside me. He slept on while I enjoyed the pleasure
of admiring him.

There was no more beautiful a sight than a boy in the first
light of morning, I decided. His hair was tousled, curlier than I
had ever seen it. It looked at if someone had put him in a
clothes dryer. Yet, in that wild disarray, the morning sunlight
sparkled with threads of gold. The sun was already finding a way
to penetrate the pine trees that stood like guardians beyond the
room. Shafts of sunlight, rich with color, entered the vast glass
windows on the eastern wall of the bedroom. It illuminated every
detail of Alesha's face. His eyelids, with a myriad bluish veins
beneath the translucent surface, were remarkable. So thin that
they defied the very possibility of keeping light from reaching
his pale blue eyes. His lashes were long, girlish. The eye-
shadow, so carefully applied by Ramon, was unsmudged. It gave
depth, enhancing a face that nature had already made striking,
adding something that evoked the truth. Sensuous and intense, coy
yet blatantly gay. Strange that I could not imagine him
otherwise. His eyelids flickered uncertainly, a hint of movement
underneath, a passing dream of me I hoped. And his lips. Oh those
lips, shaped unlike any other boy I had ever known. A girl's full
lips with a pronounced curve and a groove beneath his little
nose. Lips that I knew firsthand were soft and full of passion.
His nose flared with every shallow sleep-filled breath, taking
air into a body that seemed too small, too slender to contain his
dancer's lungs. I could only see one ear and it was hidden among
his somewhat fuzzy golden hair. Had a boy ever had more perfect
ears? Some boys had ears that stuck out, or ears that were too
large for their heads, or ears that looked as if they belonged on
elves, but not Alesha. His ears were perfect. Alesha was a
treasure, precious, vibrant, so alive even when asleep.

He was clasped to me, one slim arm draped across my chest,
his thin fingers securely pressed into my armpit. His other hand
was hidden between us yet his warm fingers were very close to my
flesh as if seeking to maintain contact through the night. His
head nestled into my shoulder. The intimate contact that came
from dependence on another was ever present. So much had changed,
although nothing had been said after Alesha had asked whether he
was required to reciprocate.

I wondered whether he would ever love me. There was the
hope, yet I was realistic to appreciate that most boys did not
love but compensated for what it was men gave them. It would be
that way with Alesha, I realized sadly. I was his patron, and
like his mother, he would do what was expected of him. That was
why he had asked. There was no other reason. Why else would such
a wonderful boy want to take a man's huge unpleasant-smelling
penis into his mouth? Alesha could have almost any man he wanted,
but he was stuck with me. I felt shame, yet even my humiliation
did not relieve my desire.

He awoke with a start. Unlike the very first boy, perhaps
the only boy I had loved, who came back to life gradually,
calming shrugging off the drowsy inertness of slumber, a flower
slowly awakening to the morning's warmth, Alesha burst forth in a
moment. He pushed himself up, shoving the sheet and blanket down
to my thighs. Then, leaning on an elbow, he smiled at me.

"You don't snore that much," he remarked gleefully

"Yes I do."

He giggled, music to my ears, happily. "You sucked my cock
last night, Mr. B."

"Yes, I did."

"It felt nice. I liked it."

I smiled then. `Mr. Beaufort', was gone it seemed. Would he
ever call me Sheldon?

"I expect you did."

"What does it taste like?" he asked.

As he spoke, his eyes glanced downward. Just for a moment,
but long enough to take in my erection, so much bigger than his
own that it was something to be afraid of. When he looked up
again, waiting for my answer, I did not know what to think. My
silence seemed to hang between us.

"It's nice," I answered. "It really doesn't taste like
anything in particular."

Alesha nodded seriously. "Roland says it tastes like cock."

"There's probably a reason for that."

It took a second before Alesha grinned. "It really isn't
dirty like you'd expect," he added, still serious, but
contemplating something that was still beyond his experience.  "I
mean I know you pee through it and all, but it isn't disgusting
or anything."

I wondered who he was trying to convince, him or me? I
smiled, waiting for him to take the next step. I would spend a
lot of time waiting for Alesha. However, his schedule was mine to
keep. There was no rushing into this. Take it slowly, a voice
inside me cautioned. It was only to be expected that he was going
to be reluctant the first time. My rationalization did not help
to stem my pounding heart. My erection throbbed mercilessly,
knowing what was around the corner. It was easy to imagine his
lips opening, tentatively tasting, slipping like a band over the
rounded swollen glans.

"Mr. Kalmann does it Roland's mouth," Alesha mumbled. "He
says it tasted gross at first, but now he really doesn't mind."

I swallowed, almost tasting semen. I was at all sure of what
to say.

"Remember what I said about only doing what you wanted?"

Alesha nodded. "I don't think I want to do that."

"What would you like to do, Alesha?" I asked boldly.

He shrugged absently, not nonchalant, but not dismissing my
question out of hand. He thought for a while. His eyes dropped
down, staring now. What was going through his head? What was he
seeing? I knew what I saw. A mass of wire-like dark curling hair.
A huge penis crowned by a crimson glans so swollen that it shined
like it had been burnished. And the ooze of pre-seminal fluid,
not a trickle, not yet, but enough to make the open slit glisten.
And a hair-covered scrotum, with pendulous testicles. My genitals
were the antithesis of `boy'. The contrast with Alesha's smooth
slenderness was disturbing even to me.

"I don't know-. He's so big."

"I'm a man, Alesha."

He smiled at the obvious, yet he was still in awe. Then, he
licked his lips. Nature had a plan for him.

"Can I,- kiss,-. him?"

Yes, oh yes. Please, Alesha. Do that. Please do that. Just
once. I pleaded silently, vainly trying to make our minds
connect. Our eyes met as if sharing desires. Behind the sultry
make-up, the clear blue eyes I saw were hungry eyes. I wanted to
nod. Before I could do anything, Alesha darted forth. His head
hovered above my groin for a second or two, and then he swooped.
Unlike his kisses of the night before, this was a passing glance.
We barely touched. Yet, I felt his lips, soft and wet, and the
succulent kiss. Even the spongy slickness of his tongue as it
slid across the tip. He lifted up, making a wry face, wrinkling
his nose to show distaste. I tried to smile.

"Gross?"

He nodded slightly. "It tastes like,-" He paused, licking
his lips to taste again. "Cock," he giggled, trying on the word
that the other boys all used.

"Not surprisingly it does," I chuckled. "I can't imagine
why. That's enough for your first time. It takes a while to get
used to it. Now it's your turn,-. if you want?"

Alesha agreed with a smirk that clearly indicated what he
wanted. It was strange what happened then. Less like a man intent
than a hungry animal, I clambered over him, throwing the covers
almost off the bed. I grabbed his hips, felt the hardness of his
prominent pelvic bone as I rolled him onto his back. He laughed,
fighting, playing, writhing under me as I licked across his lower
belly. I was liberated in lust, taking what I wanted for it
clearly was mine to take. Alesha submitted gleefully. I left wet
trails everywhere I kissed. I slurped over his navel, kissing and
sucking on the taut knotted whorl, then up to his ribs, then
swiftly down again. One long wet lick from sternum to penis. I
sucked him into me, all of his penis, his little silken scrotum,
everything. And his hands grasped my head and held me there as
his body pushed hard against me.

I waited until his urgency faded and then my head began to
bob up and down on his short shaft. At the same time, my fingers
kneaded his testicles mercilessly, relocating them from the safe
folds to a clump between two fingers where I could rub them with
greater force. It was torture of the most delightful kind.
Somewhere below me, I could hear Alesha gasping, groaning, making
whining sounds like pain. Then, I felt his hand, his hand wrapped
around my penis, holding with a boy's uncertain awkwardness, but
holding nonetheless. And I sucked, vacuuming his sex organ until
my cheeks hollowed, tonguing his reproductive system and several
inches all around. Finally, he squeezed. His thumb nervously
rubbed across the tip to smear away the fluid that had begun to
accumulate. The increased slipperiness made his thumb remain,
playing around and around, even pressing into the slit as if his
finger could actually go inside.

Unluckily, perhaps fortunately for me, Alesha still lacked
the essential skill of masturbation. My orgasm was a long way
off. There was a lot I would need to teach him.

My stream of consciousness, James Joyce-like, was
interrupted, when Alesha drew my penis downward. I was surprised
as much as anything else. I had not felt that sensation for
minutes, the time since he had first kissed my sex organ, yet I
had not forgotten what it was like. His lips were soft, softer
than seemed possible. And wet and hot, and ever so uncertain as
they brushed across the tip. However, it was not to end like
before. This time, Alesha's lips lingered, still touching, his
moist pucker to my bulging bulb. Then slowly, ever so slowly, as
if he was taking it all in to never forget what he was doing, he
opened his lips further. I felt the circle inch downward. Just an
inch. No more than that, but enough that a small part of my penis
was actually inside him. He licked between his lips, his teeth
wide apart in response ti the wedge of flesh that had entered his
mouth. His tongue, or at least the very tip of tip, pressed into
the slit, then broad and tantalizingly succulent, swirled across
the rounded end.

He lifted away, stifling a giggle. "It doesn't taste bad at
all," he observed.

Faced by the decision of taking my mouth away, or answering,
I chose to stay, engorged upon Alesha's diminutive boyhood. He
got the hint. Again, he kissed. Just as wet and hot, and squirmy
as before. No longer did he barely kiss. He pushed down until the
flared rim of my penis settled just behind his lips, where his
jaw could ease and his teeth could keep it there inside his
mouth. His first attempt was awkward, inexperienced as he was. He
tried to suck. Indeed, he gave it his best shot. He gagged, yet
as I leered, turned my head and looked down, I saw his cheeks had
hollowed with his effort. He lasted for a few seconds before he
lifted off, grinning and wiping the drool from his chin.

"I sucked your cock again," Alesha giggled.

He help my penis possessively, just an inch from his saliva-
glistening lips. He licked his lips absently, then deliberately
pulled my penis down as he opened wide. He was very careful,
exhibiting a prudent yet precautious eagerness. Indeed, his
clasped hand so close to the top ensured that no more would enter
than what he wanted.

It was after the third or fourth such try that Alesha rolled
onto his back and I assumed a position by crouching over him.
Never had I been so aware of how small his body was compared to
mine. It did not seem to bother Alesha for he promptly reached up
as soon as my knees were beside his shoulders, took hold of my
penis and levered it downward to his mouth. At the same time, I
devoured his groin. I slobbered, a glutton fully intending to
consume the boy. I slurped and licked and kissed, until he was
covered with my spit, until his penis and scrotum were coated
with wetness and tiny bits of foam. A dribble trickled down along
his perineum, gathering where it was needed.

My slippery forefinger sought his anus, driving in far
enough that Alesha trembled. However, the little opening did not
clench. Instead, it seemed to open. I moved my fingertip around,
testing the natural elasticity. He was tight. So tight. Tight
enough to deny a man the pleasure of entering his body. Yet I
could tell, simply by the outward motion, not only that he wanted
my finger there, moving gently, but that there would come a time
for bigger things, much bigger things.

And Alesha writhed and trembled underneath me, and
shamelessly sucked my bigger thing with increasing agitation as
innocence was replaced with a new-found appreciation for what a
man possessed, for what was still denied to him. He was consumed
by the thickness and unleashed power of my straining bulging
maleness as I was consumed by his slender short shaft and tiny
boy-sized testicles, and the puckered anus that was stretched
around my finger, yet still so far from my knuckle. I was barely
aware of anything else, except perhaps the please that Alesha was
returning to me. Sometimes his teeth grated, but he was doing his
best. Kneeling above him was hard work and my back was beginning
to get sore, however I stayed there. He was close. I was too.
Closer than I knew.

Suddenly, I felt the surge. Even as I lurched away, I felt
it boiling out, white spurts of liquid fire. Alesha didn't
understand. He didn't know what was happening. He had never seen
semen, except the stickiness he had discovered in Roland's
leather pants. I should have known better. There was no time to
warn him. He held my penis tightly, tighter than before, not
letting go, pulling my penis back into him even as the first hot
burst splattered against the roof of his mouth. I panicked,
spraying out in shuddering blasts more semen than I had ever
produced in recent memory. All over his face, one going from his
chin to his cheek, another clumping in his hair, yet another
landing on his eyelid and forehead. He finally let my penis go.
The last of it spurted onto his neck and chest. The relief of
pressure was immense, so great that I deflated and collapsed. My
face burrowed into his crotch, inhaling the scent of sex, of boy,
of wet lush flesh, my finger still buried in his bowels. Not far,
but far enough for a boy's first time with a finger other than
his own.

"You're squashing me."

I barley heard him. Indeed, it took seconds before my mind
processed his complaint and realized what I was doing. I
struggled up, grunting with the effort. Then I saw the mess I had
made on his face, my semen, man-drool trickling down his cheek.
Thick pools of it on his chest, no longer pure but stained by me.

"Alesha! Oh God, I'm sorry."

He was close to tears, or so it appeared to me. He blinked,
his hand wiping across his nose, smearing away more semen. I
groaned within, wondering what had possessed me. It had happened
so quickly, I tried to say, yet no words came out. I looked at
him in horror. And worse, I had laid my full weight upon his
slender body. His chest rose and fell, deep breaths trying to
restore his sensibility, the air that I had forced from his
lungs. `I could have killed him' became the only thought in my
mind.

"I'm sorry," I muttered again. "Oh Alesha, how can you ever
forgive me."

He wiped at his eyes, still lifting away the thick creamy
fluid I had put there. He said nothing. Shamed, I climbed from
the bed and stood beside it, looking down fearfully. I saw
disgust, disgust at me and what I had done. I stepped back,
impotent, drained of strength, pitiful before the boy. He was,
had been, immaculate. Alesha's was nature's consummate gift, a
connoisseur's boy if ever there was one.

"Alesha,-." I shook my head. "Forgive me."

"Mr. Beaufort,-." he murmured.

I did not hear what he said after that. I had been humbled
by my act. I shuffled away, needing to relieve myself, or at
least I felt that way. In the bathroom, with its elegant
porcelain fixtures and marble tiles, I could not think. I could
not even find the energy to stand. I slumped down onto the
commode and rested my head in my hands. In one fell swoop, in one
moment of lust, I had extinguished what had been growing between
us since we had met. How could Alesha be attracted to me? I was
stout, I knew that. Portly enough that my tailor had to exercise
special attention to conceal my figure. I ate too much, according
to my doctor, and I needed to lose weight. But the boys had
known, had seen me for what I was, an obese creep. It was not
self pity. It was the truth. What could a boy like Alesha
possibly see in me? Matt knew. It was quid pro quo! I was
Alesha's patron and he was duty bound to give me what I wanted.
His mother had seen to that. There was no love in it for him, and
there never would be for me.

Several minutes passed before he came to stand before me,
still naked, like a dream. Not smiling, just contemplative,
waiting, trying to find the words that could seal the breach that
had suddenly formed between us. I could not meet his eyes.
Instead, with eyes downcast, I studied his boy genitals. So
small, so perfect, so incredibly precious. His scrotum hung in
folds, still higher than the tip of his foreskin. I wanted badly
to become what Alesha wanted, what he desired, what he deserved.

"Do you think I'm gross?" I blurted out. "Am I that fat?"

Alesha did not answer. Not for a long while. "You overheard
Matt?"

"Yes."

"Matt was being mean," he murmured. "I don't like him very
much."

I sighed. His answer was the same as saying 'yes'. He didn't
have to voice what he thought of me. I shook my head, disgust
rising up inside me.

"I'm sorry Alesha. You deserve so much better."

He stared down at me. I could feel his eyes, penetrating,
evaluating, rejecting me for the ungainly thing I was. This boy
danced, he leaped, and balanced on his toes. There wasn't more
than an ounce or two of fat on his entire body. My belly was a
roll, or plural when I leaned forward, gigantic rolls of blubber.

"Mr. B?"

His voice was soft, encouraging. No wonder he was special. I
looked up. What I saw in his eyes had never been there before. he
pitied me. Me, Sheldon Beaufort.

"If it bothers you, you can lose some weight," he suggested
simply.

"I could try to diet again, I suppose. I know I ought to. My
doctor tells me to every time he sees me."

Alesha smiled. "You should try the Alesha diet."

"What's that?"

"Mama calls how I eat, the Alesha diet."

"Which involves what exactly? Eight hours of rigorous
exercise a day and a bowl of bran cereal with an enema to
follow?" I smiled at him.

"The Alesha diet is mostly lots of fruit and vegetables," he
replied seriously. "You can eat as much as you want and not worry
about gaining weight."

"Well, thank you, Dr. Yaroshenko," I chided. "I suppose that
means no truffles, caviar, champagne, or Stilton cheese?"

Alesha smirked and slowly shook his head. Clearly, he was
enjoying tormenting me.

"If you're good all week, Mr. Beaufort, you get to eat out
one night with me."

However, I smiled at him. I could survive anything if it
meant being able to keep Alesha happy.

"How long do I have to do it?"



ACT VI Scene IV



Days passed, and then a week. I starved. Oh, how I missed
the delicacies I had always enjoyed until Alesha came along. No
freshly baked croissants for breakfast. No pate snacks, or sweet
treats before lunch. No lunch at the Tavern on the Green, or my
new favorite, the Russian Tea Room. Instead, I ate a salad-
Alesha's favorite lunch at school. He would not even try P-B and
J. So I ate fruit and salad, lots of salad without my favorite
dressing.  By Friday, I would have given anything for a sandwich
heaped with peanut butter and grape jelly. My afternoon tea--how
much I used to enjoy that meal--was coffee. Just coffee, hold the
cream and sugar. I waited anxiously for Alesha to come home from
school, as much to see him as to have some crackers as an
afternoon snack with him. The `Alesha Diet'! What would I have
given to be on the Subway Diet?

In five days, I lost one pound. I was ready to give up, but
for Alesha. He let me suck him every night, after he had danced.
We went into my private room and he lay full length on the divan,
grinning from ear to ear as I leaned over him. He never lasted
longer than a few minutes. It made up for everything. However, I
was, after one week, at my finale. I had tried hard, but to lose
a single pound? I looked thinner in the mirror. At least, I
thought so. I tried harder, nourishing myself on Alesha's playful
penis. Before I realized it, another week had passed.

On that Friday afternoon I waited in the Library for Alesha,
sitting close to the window as I read to keep an eye on the
street below. Already, the lime-green of the early spring leaves
had darkened to a dusty green. It would take a couple of days of
rain to wash away that dust. Yet, I enjoyed sitting there, bathed
in the afternoon sunshine. Friday was the last practice before
the graduation show. The final dress-rehearsal to which Alesha
had forbidden me to attend. He would be home at least an hour
later than was normal. It did not stop me from waiting. Finally,
I saw the car turn the corner. My sigh of relief was audible. It
would not be long. As usual, as soon as Dewon had parked the car
in the basement garage, Alesha hurried up the stairs.

He didn't come into the Library. I heard his feet running on
the stairs. I came to my feet and walked to the Library door,
listening.

"Alesha?" I called out. He was on the landing above, stopped
still, crying, or so it sounded.

"Alesha? What's wrong?"

"Nothing! I'm okay! Just leave me alone for a while."

A few seconds later, I heard the vague sound of a door
closing on the servant's floor. Something was amiss, and I went
in search of my chauffeur. I was a lot harder on him than I
intended.

"Dewon, do you know why Alesha's upset?"

"Um,- well,-. No, not really."

His answer was vague, obviously a lie.

"What happened?" I demanded.

"Mr. B,- I cain't. I promised him."

"Tell me!"

I was getting angry, filled with bilious worry that came
from a certain knowledge that something bad had happened to
Alesha. Fear gripped me, and what I did not know became imaginary
threats, worse by their vaporousness.

Dewon shook his head. "I cain't."

"Don't you know who pays your damned salary?"

"I know you do, but I promised him, you know. I don't break
no promises, 'specially when they's made to a boy like 'im."

"Even if it means getting fired?"

"Mr. B, I know how you feel about him. But I cain't. If
Lee,- I cain't, okay?"

"Dewon, I'll say this just one time. I am responsible for
Alesha. His mother entrusted his care to me, not you. Please let
me be the judge of what is in his best interest."

"Mr. B,-. I wish I could. But I cain't."

I took a deep breath. "Dewon,-."

"Mr. B, please, I really need this job."

"Then tell me."

"Fuck! I'm sorry. Anyways, I ain't exactly sure what's got
him upset."

"Okay. Then tell me what you do know." I left it at that.
Tell me or risk the consequences of disobeying your employer.

Dewon regarded me in silence. "Ah think, nah, I'm sure,- Mr.
B,... he wanted to get something like,... in this store he got me
to stop at on the way home."

I felt my heart start up again. My throat was dry and I had
to swallow. It didn't sound too serious. I breathed in a rush.

"You mean he wanted to buy something?"

Dewon shrugged ambiguously, still holding back. "Maybe,...
well prob'ly," he added after I stared unrelentingly at him.

"Did he say what?"

"Not 'xactly. With Lee, well I ain't gonna pushd if he don't
tell me. You know how it is 'n all?"



"No I don't," I replied. I really did not intend to sound
rude.

"That's boy 'a your's 's cool kid. He's real special, Mr. B.
It ain't just that he's got the looks to make a dude hot even if
he ain't into chicken."

"What exactly did Alesha say to you, Dewon?" I asked
patiently. I did not need Dewon platitudes, so rich in banality,
so lacking in profundity.

Dewon shrugged again. "Not much."

"Tell me!"

"Well he were kinda upset when he come out. So's I assed
him, you know, like what's up. First, he just says nuthin', but
he's nearly crying, so then, when I ass him again he tells me he
don't have the money to buy it."

"And what was 'it'?" I asked.

"Lee weren't gonna say, so I let it be fer a while. But I
reckon he wanted to buy it somethin' bad."

"What store was it?"

"It was Modell's. On Forty-second." Dewon smiled at my
confused expression. "'s a sporting goods place, Mr. B," he
explained.

Wondering what Alesha had wanted to buy in a sporting goods
store, I left Dewon and took the elevator up. I went all the way
to the attic. Alesha was in the studio. I could hear him crying.


END ACT VI


INTERMISSION