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The Angel of Pie Jesu.

 

By John T. S. Teller.

 

Part 43.

 

Book two: Journey of the Coin.

 

 

Aleric.

Friday. The day Dad has his operation. From the moment we all get up I can tell things are different. Although everybody is trying to act normal, it's sort of false. Gareth is usually quiet when he gets up, but even he is quieter than normal.

 

**********

 

He was up before me and was working away on his laptop in his dressing gown. I got up and went and stood behind him, wrapped my arms around his neck and looked at the graphs he was making. He got to a certain point and then turned his head up and looked right into my eyes. I stared into his, and then we kissed. It wasn't a sexy kiss, it was one of the special loving ones that we have on special occasions... sort of plucking at each other's lips: talking with our lips; telling each other that we're in love. Then I kissed him on the cheek, on his designer stubble, and told him I was going to shower. He gave me a puzzled look, and asked, "What's up with you?"

 

I grinned at him. "Sex you mean?"

 

He grinned back and nodded. "Uhuh. Have you gone off me?"

 

I went back to him, grabbed his head, slammed my lips onto his and sunk my tongue deep into his mouth, but just as I could see he was getting worked up, I broke the kiss and grinned at him again. "I'm saving myself up for tonight. Get on with your work Herr Moneybags. You've got a new car to pay for."

 

Gareth giggled. "I pay insurance for that. Your Dad will be fine. Don't worry about him."

 

**********

 

That's what it's been like, Gareth knew what was on my mind, and I know everybody else is acting exactly as I did when I woke up.

 

Mum's in the kitchen as usual, so when I've showered and dressed, I go and stand behind her and wrap my arms around her. She stops what she's doing and turns to me, and we have a long hug before I go and sit on one of the breakfast bar stools and wait for breakfast. Then Gottwin joins us, and very soon after, Gunther does too. Mum asks where Gareth is, and I tell her that he's working as usual.

 

We've almost finished breakfast when Gareth comes into the kitchen, still in his dressing gown. When Mum asks him if he wants anything to eat, he shakes his head and thanks her for asking, and then he goes and makes coffee for himself. This is his routine. He likes his coffee made his own way; in the percolator; a measured amount of coffee; precise timing; cup saucer and spoon on the tray; cream jug only because he doesn't take sugar in the mornings, and when it's all done, he ambles over to sit on the opposite side of the bar to where me and Gottwin are sitting. Then he goes through the motions of preparing his coffee, and, as usual, even though he's got no sugar in the cup, he stirs it for ages, staring into the cup: thinking. It's what he does. It's what my Special Man always does, and I love him all the more because he does these things. So I sit and wait. Then he looks up into my eyes and smiles. I smile back at him... still waiting.

 

"Have we all worked out what's happening today?" he asks us all.

 

That's what I was waiting for, an expression of his thoughts. They follow his actions as sure as night follows day.

 

Mum answers. "Gunther and I are going to the hospital later this morning. The operation is after lunch, and we've both decided to stay the night. They said we could when we visited yesterday. You don't mind looking after the twins, do you Gareth?"

 

Gareth shakes his head. "No. You do know the operation will take several hours and it will probably be late into the night before the general anaesthetic wears off, do you?"

 

Mum nods. "Yes, but I want to be there with him whatever."

 

Gareth nods. "Okay. If you need anything at all, just phone me and I'll sort it. What time are you going?"

 

Gunther answers him. "We thought about ten o'clock. We can spend a couple of hours with him then before he has the operation."

 

Gareth looks at me and Gottwin, and asks, "Don't you two want to go and see your Dad before the operation?"

 

It's Mum who answers him. "No! I know what those two are like when they're together! I don't want Ralf getting upset. Those two will be upset if they go there."

 

Then Gottwin looks at me and asks, "Do you mind if I go with Mum, Al?"

 

I look into his eyes; unspoken signals passing between us. Mum is right. Together we probably wouldn't be able to handle it because it takes only one of us to get upset and the other follows naturally. On his own, Gottwin will be able to keep his cool, so I smile at him and shake my head. "No. You go if you want to. I'll be here on the end of the phone if you want to talk to me."

 

That's when the tears come, and it ends up with both me and Gottwin crying. Mum comes to us, puts her arm around us, and Gottwin and I hug her. When she's settled us down, Gareth smiles at us from across the table. "He'll be alright boys. I promise. We'll all go tomorrow and see your father. He'll probably be complaining that he can't smoke his pipe."

 

That makes us both have teary smiles, so Mum leaves us and goes back to her seat, and I don't miss the knowing look that passes between Gareth and Mum. I look at both of them in turn, and then I think about the painting, and then about the box. When I do, a strange feeling comes over me and I slip out and go to our bedroom and take the box from the wardrobe.

 

Mum and Gareth told me they'd opened it and there was nothing in it except a map and some photographs. That's what's bothering me. If that's all there is in it, then what was all the shit about me needing to have it all about? It just doesn't add up.

 

Because of the situation with Dad, I absent-mindedly flip through the contents of the box, but when Mum and Gunther and Gottwin have gone and I've seen them off, I go back and sit on the edge of the bed and look at the photographs properly. Most are in black and white and are of old people. Some later ones are coloured and have both adults and kids in them. I try to see if I can recognize Raul, but I can't. He may be one of the kids, but comparing the dreadlocked man I knew to the boys in the photographs is an impossible task. Just one boy stands out to me, in one of the coloured photographs that looks as if it's been taken with one of those old Polaroids. He's about nine years old, standing on his own in front of an open door of a house painted blue and white, and sort of different. He's a beautiful little boy, not smiling, but there's a sort of contentment on his face as if he hasn't got a care in the world. Then I see something else... something beside him... leaning against the wall of the house, just to his right. It's a painting... about half as tall as the boy, but it's what's in the painting that shocks me! I get off the bed and go to the window and turn the photograph to the light so I can see it better. I was right! And suddenly I feel sick inside and start to shiver.

 

*********** ********** ********** ********** **********

 

Gareth.

Aleric is standing behind my left shoulder as I sit in front of my computer screen, his right hand holding my right shoulder while we wait for the scanner to reproduce the small photograph Aleric found in Raul's box. I've set it to scan directly to the desktop, and as soon as it's done, I double click the icon to open it. I roll the mouse button to enlarge it - the top quality graphics card adjusting pixilation to focus properly - and we now have a picture that is filling the screen.

 

Immediately I see what's in the photograph, I reach an arm around Aleric and pull him onto my knees. I felt his hand shaking when the photograph was scanning, but now he's buried his head into my neck and is sobbing. I'm nearly in tears myself, but I remain strong for my boy. My beautiful boy! He hasn't let me down. I told him that we would do things together from now on, and he's kept his word that we would. Thank God he has... he couldn't have handled this on his own.

 

After a while, Aleric says, "You know where it is, don't you?"

 

I hold him a bit tighter. "Yes. It's our special place at Wieck. I'd know it anywhere."

 

"But why has he done that? Painted those symbols on the picture?"

 

"He?"

 

Aleric picks up the photo from the desk and points to the small boy. "That's Raul. I just know it is, just as I know it was him who painted the picture. The colours are exactly the same as those pictures here in the apartment. He always uses the same colours. He's a genius. It looks as though he's been a genius since he was a small boy." Aleric points to the enlarged painting on the computer screen. "You can see the colours, especially the red he's used for the dragon. But why is the bird eating the dragon? It's weird!"

 

I study the painting, and then drop the picture down so I can search Google for national symbols. It doesn't take long to discover exactly what the bird is, and I say to Aleric, "I know I refer to you Germans as Huns sometimes, and most Germans take it as an insult, and there's a reason for that. The Hun has almost nothing to do with them, but most Germans have to come to accept that some foreigners, especially the old enemy the Brits, use it to describe them. Many will put it down to our ignorance and are dismissive of it, and others, like Kurt, will accept and even use the term just to amuse us. The bird eating the dragon is called the Turul, which is a symbol of the Hun tribe, and the dragon is the national symbol of my own country's past. The true Hun is of Hungarian and Balkan origin, so I'm struggling to understand why Raul would use the Turul in his painting."

 

Aleric takes the computer mouse from me and brings up the painting again. He stares at it for a while, and then looks right into my eyes, and I can see that he's frightened when he says, "I'm thinking strange things here, and they scare me. Mum's family of long ago came from Hungary. Why is the... the...?"

 

"The Turul?"

 

He nods. "Yes, the Turul. Why is it tearing the dragon apart?"

 

I claw Aleric to me and hug him tightly, and again he begins to sob. I whisper soothing noises to him and kiss his hair and his wet cheeks and lips, tasting the saltiness of the beautiful creature who I love so much. After a while, I point to the painting and try to explain what I'm taking from the picture. "Raul was a brilliant abstract painter. Although he painted many things you could recognize in daily life, the main thrust of what he did is paint how he saw things in his mind. He was a visionary... a person who used symbolism and colour to paint what his mind was telling him to paint. I don't know how he could see such things, but the painting of you is typical of what was going on in his mind. Again I don't know how he could do it, but that small boy in the painting could see into the future." I move my finger to what the Turul has in its mouth. "The Turul is eating the heart of the dragon. It makes sense. This is our special place; for some reason that we don't understand yet, he's depicted you as the Turul, and I'm the dragon, and you're eating my heart. It's real. The first time we made love there was the day I knew I belonged completely to you and it could never be any other way... the day you stole my heart."

 

Aleric's sobs grow deeper and louder and I have to hug him even tighter, and then I hear him mumble, "But it's cruel!"

 

"Yes, it is... but love is cruel. That's why it's so beautiful. Before I met you I was an empty shell, but now I'm somebody who's bursting at the seams with emotion. Like the painting, the Turul has stolen my heart; ripped it out of what was once an empty shell and given life to it by consuming it into your being. The painting tells you that."

 

Aleric wails like a wounded animal and clings to me so tightly that his grip is like a madman. Then he breaks the hold on me and grabs my head and stares into my eyes for a long time, and I can see both tears of love and anger falling from his hypnotic brown/green eyes. When it comes, his kiss is just as crazy; sucking saliva from me and spitting it and his own back into my mouth. Then, suddenly, he stops weeping, gets up, holds out a hand, and when I take it, he leads me to our bed. When we get there he stands in front of me, never for a moment breaking the stare into my eyes, and begins to strip. Garment after garment is discarded and thrown onto the floor, and when he's completely naked, fully aroused, he steps forward and undoes my dressing gown. When it slips off my shoulders and to the floor, he points to my underpants and signals that I should take them off. When I do, he stares at my own erection and then back into my eyes with a tearful smile. Legs apart, he opens his arms and I go to him and wrap him in mine. And then we kiss again.

 

**********

 

There are no preliminaries; no fun; no teasing this time. Aleric doesn't even use any gel when he lies on his back, raises his knees to his chest, grabs my dick and forces it inside him. And then he grabs my hips and sort of sucks my erection into him an inch at a time until we're coupled completely. He shudders... a long drawn out shudder and I see his eyes going up his head. Then he shakes his head furiously and his eyes return to stare into mine. But that lasts only a few seconds before they again go up in his head, and when they do come down again, I'm shocked, and frightened. The eyes that are looking at me are not the eyes of the boy I love, they're something else. Yes, they're exactly the same colour, but I know my boy's eyes by now and I also know the feelings I get when he shares his spiritual love with me, and I know for certain that the spirit looking at me now is not Aleric's. There's a different intensity in these eyes, and I know that if I give into it then it will devour me and take away that which I am. What will happen then I've no idea, but I do know that if I don't stop this thing now then everything that the real Aleric and I have, will be lost forever.

 

I'm in another place, a place that is seared into my mind, a place I was in not so long ago: the Schiller Theatre. I hear the voice... the beautiful voice of the boy I love singing Pie Jesu. I see those eyes, not the eyes I'm looking into now, but the eyes of the boy I fell in love with and gave my heart and spirit to. And then, while the voice is still singing, I hear the sound of waves rolling in from the sea and I see our special place, and I feel the warmth of the boy in my arms and the shock of deep love that seared through my body when first he made me touch him in a place that should be forbidden to me. And when I see and hear and feel these thing, I sense an anger building inside me that is far beyond earthly rage, and then, with seeing eyes, I look again down at the boy beneath me, and I'm not seeing Aleric... I'm seeing a boy... a beautiful boy, but it's not Aleric, and I'm appalled at what we're doing. And that's why my erection subsides immediately and my limp dick slips out of the orifice of the boy beneath me; out of the spirit that has taken over the body of the boy I love.

 

The transformation is immediate. The moment we're uncoupled, the body beneath me shudders violently, and when its eyes open again, I know my boy is back. The experience has been a shattering one for me, but I'm now a much wiser man for having experienced it. Whatever possesses Aleric can only come between us when we're lost in the shared sexuality part of us. This is twice now... the first, that night when he practically raped me; the night when he took the painting from under the bed and placed it at against the wall before we began to make love. And now this. And some pieces of the jigsaw begin to slide into place.

 

**********

 

Raul Garcia Ramirez's journey began long ago, when he was a small boy. I reckon he wouldn't have had a clue then what the painting of the Turul eating the heart of the dragon was all about, but whatever spirit possessed Raul then, made him paint the first sign. The second sign is under the bed... the last painting he ever did, the one I commissioned him to do for me... the one of my beautiful boy who turned out to be three boys. Before now, I never believed in spirituality except in that which makes us what we are, but now I know that Aleric and I are parts of a much larger puzzle, and because I know it is and that puts me in part control of what's happening, I feel a weight lift from my shoulders when the beautiful boy below me, the boy I love with an absolute passion looks puzzled when he asks, "What's up with you? Have you gone off me?"

 

Behind the grin I give him is the thought that he hasn't got a clue what's happened, and that's why I say to him, "No. We need some bloody gel! I can't do it properly without it. You'll have me in the hospital."

 

Aleric chuckles. "You'll be next to Dad, drinking Schnapps together."

 

I chuckle at his remark, and then say, "Stay there and don't move!"

 

I get off the bed and go to the wardrobe, and while I'm searching for the gel in the drawer I come across something else which brings a grin to my face.

 

Aleric is giggling when he sees me coming back with one hand behind my back, and he asks, "What have you got there?"

 

When I reach the bed I throw the dummy at him and tell him, "Suck on that while I grease you up."

 

The next couple of minutes are hilarious ones... mostly because all fear of whatever possessed Aleric is now in my control. I know how it works... it can only come between us when Aleric is out of control and makes us couple, and I've no intention of ever allowing that to happen again until I know it can never come between us. Beware The Dragon, Turul! He's the one you need to fear, and right now The Dragon is about to fuck the beautiful Turul beneath me, and he's not you!

 

**********

 

Our kisses are soft and gentle as I stimulate my boy's prostate with my Horn of Plenty, and we make love beautifully, even smiling and talking and having fun with the dummy as the beautiful feelings take us to our nirvana, and when it happens, there are no spirits about when the passions spill over into pure love.

 

********** ********** ********** ********** **********

 

The Spirit of László Nemeth.

These two think the painting was meant for them. It wasn't... it was meant for me. My beautiful, wonderful Csaba Szolnoky is warning me of the pitfalls that may lie ahead. The spirit of Stanisław Jabłonowski is around somewhere, and unless I'm very clever it will destroy Gareth and Aleric just as it did Csaba and me all those years ago. But who can it be in? It's not in Biermaier. These two think he's their real enemy, but he's not. I would know if he was. He's been a conduit that has brought Aleric and Gareth together. These two might think Biermaier is a nasty sod, but compared to the spirit that was in Stanisław Jabłonowski, he's the Angel Gabriel. I will have to be on my toes. I was trying to take control of the spirit within Gareth, but his stupid human brain blocked me out. Stupid, stupid man!

 

But he's not a stupid man. That's the problem. Not many humans are capable of understanding that the physical part of a human being is not the completeness of what they are. Gareth, even though he's struggling with the concept, is beginning to realise that there is a spiritual aspect to them. No, I'm the stupid one. I'm so wrapped up with the sexual desire of what I am that I have revealed myself at the wrong time. My lustful plotting has backfired on me. Now, things will be far more difficult for me. Aleric's possessive brain isn't helping. Stupid boy! If ever these two come across the person who has Stanisław Jabłonowski's spirit within it, they will need a brain much more attuned to danger than Aleric's is. But Gareth's spirit and I have two things going for us... Gareth's human brain and the spirit of Csaba Szolnoky.

 

The painting they've just discovered in the photographs. I'll have to study it further. What do we have up to yet? Water!

 

It was beautiful. The first time Csaba and I did it, when I was twelve years old, it was by water. But we were by the river and not the sea. We had no sea. Csaba and I walked along the river bank and came to a beautiful spot where we could consummate our love. In those days there were few people compared to things nowadays. We could walk for miles in the countryside and amongst the forests and meet nobody. We lay down and we kissed. It was a long and beautiful kiss that stirred the passions, and when Csaba placed his hand on my throbbing penis, I pushed hard into his hand to tell him that I wanted him. And we came together willingly. It was beyond beautiful, and when we left that place by the river, we were lovers complete in all respects. So that's the first sign in the painting... the coming together by the water.

 

The Tural eating the heart of the Dragon. That's simple and cruel... it was the ending when Jabłonowski destroyed the heart that loved me... the heart that contained my love... the heart of my own Dragon... my beautiful Csaba.  

 

The other painting. The bed of feathers. I loved that bed of feathers in Csaba's house. But it wasn't practical. I often scolded Csaba about it when we were making love. He used to laugh at me and say he would buy a solid wooden bed just for making love. But it was beautiful for afterwards. We would sink into it and become almost one when we were being loving and not sexual.

 

The small marble table. The one Csaba had was larger, but it was the same shape. Csaba was brilliant at carving wood. He would give me presents of carved birds and animals, but the gifts I liked most were the beautifully carved phalluses he made for me and which he polished with beeswax so I didn't get any wooden splints up my bum. He kept them in a box on that marble table. So how could I forget that table! He will know I wouldn't.

 

But I can't work out how the coin came to be in my new mother's possession when I took refuge in it amongst the ashes of the fire in Felsőgalla. She found it on the shores of the Baltic... an impossible place for it to be. That's a mystery, but perhaps explainable. Some spirits have been around for so long that they can move earthly things. I can't do it. I've tried, but it just hasn't worked for me yet. Maybe Csaba's spirit has that gift, and he did it. He's lived many times and his spirit is much, much older than mine. Or maybe the journey of the coin is complete chance. That part really is puzzling me.

 

But what now? Gareth has blocked me from controlling him, but if the spirit of Stanisław Jabłonowski is around somewhere, I have something that we didn't have back then. This spirit within Gareth, although it's new, has a mind of its own. And on the plus side, Gareth's brain is a brilliant one. So those are my assets.

 

Enough thinking. Gareth thinks he's got rid of me. Wrong... Gareth! I've just slipped back inside one half of the human form of what I am, and I'm enjoying the sex were having. And now Gareth is carrying me to the spa tub! Brilliant! I do love the spa tub!     

 

********** ********** ********** ********** **********

 

Aleric.

It's been the strangest of mornings. There was all that stuff about the photograph and the painting, and then it all changed. It happened when I fainted from the pain of getting Gareth inside me without using any gel. It was a stupid thing to do! I just wanted him so badly that I couldn't wait for anything. All I knew was that I wanted my Beautiful Man inside me; giving me those beautiful feelings that I get when I know it's the nearest we'll ever be as one person; joined together almost like Siamese twins. I never gave it a second thought that it would be painful to Gareth, too. But we more than made up for the daftness afterwards. We did it with another sort of daftness... actually having real fun while we were making love.

 

*******************

 

It was fantastic! After Gareth had made me climax by just fucking me, he sucked me off with the dummy stuck up my bum, and I was still giggling when the feelings came again. But I had my revenge. After he'd washed himself so I could suck him off, I pushed the dummy up his bum while I was doing it, and we were both giggling when his second dose came. In fact it was so funny that I almost choked when it spurted into the back of my throat.

 

But the best fun was yet to come. In the spa tub. Gareth filled it and we got in together. He'd cursed me and Gottwin for making a mess, but the mess we left behind after we'd had fun in there was far worse. We chased each other around, grabbing, clutching, smacking, sucking, kissing. Then he wanked me off while he was chewing on my ear. After we'd got out and dried off, he grabbed me again and spanked my bum so hard that he left red marks on it. For that I chased him out of the bathroom into the lounge, and both naked, we wrestled on the hearthrug for ages until he pretended to let me win. Then the fun stopped, and while I was on top of him, he suddenly stroked my cheeks and told me that he loved me so much that it hurt. I'm a softy at the best of times, but the way he said it made me cry, and I just fell into his arms and we cuddled for ages just telling each other how happy we were to be together. Then he smacked my bum, and it all began again, this time in my bedroom when he was chucking clothes at me that he wanted me to wear, and I did the same in his bedroom. It took so long that we didn't have time to dry our hair properly. We were late and needed to get to the hospital to see Dad before they wheeled him off for his operation.

 

*******************

 

And while we're driving to the hospital in the Golf, I can see Gareth's hair is still slicked back and damp.

 

He glances across at me, and grins. "Is your bum still sore?"

 

I give him a dirty look. "You're not big enough."

 

He chuckles. "I meant from the smacks I gave you."

 

I give him another dirty look. "Sadist! You're kinky you are... beating little boys!"

 

Another chuckle. "You're not a little boy now, you're fourteen. Old enough to be beaten if you don't do as you're told."

 

I thump his arm. "I didn't do anything wrong! You just beat me for nothing."

 

Gareth grins at me. "It was my way of showing affection. I love you so much that I thought about taking a belt to you and giving you a real good tanning."

 

I shrug my shoulders. "If pain means that much to you then I'll bite your pinkler off next time you shove it in my mouth."

 

Gareth chuckles again. "I never shove it in your mouth! And I never shove it up your bum! You're the sexy sod here, not me!"

 

We don't say anything else, but neither do we stop giggling until Gareth pulls the car to a halt in the hospital car park.

 

It was after we'd been to bed that I told him I'd changed my mind and wanted to go and see Dad before he had his operation.

 

********** ********** ********** ********** **********

 

Gareth.

We only just make it before Ralf is taken to theatre. Gretel was right. The moment Gottwin sees Aleric, he goes to his brother, drags him by the hand to Ralf's bed, and they cry together while Gretel is tut-tutting and scolding them for being so silly while Ralf hugs both boys, but I don't miss seeing her own misty eyes while she's doing it, nor those of Gunther and Ralf. This is a special family, filled with the deepest love for one another that it's possible to imagine. At this very moment, I feel like an outsider. How can I not do? This family have spent lifetimes together building this special bond, and I'm a recent addition. Gretel's warning that she knew what would happen if the twins were together has now come true, but I can sense that she would have it no other way. Very probably, despite her warning, she would have been disappointed if the twins had taken her advice and kept away. I think Aleric understood that, because after we'd made love, he insisted that I bring him here.

 

**********

 

After Ralf has gone to theatre and I've made sure I'm at their beck and call if they need me, I leave them and go to the office. There's work to be done; matters to see to that require my unhindered attention, and one of the first things that my PS, Helena Herzog, brings to my attention is that Frau Müller, the music teacher, has been enquiring why it is that the boys haven't turned up for their lessons. She tells me that new arrangements are to be made for their tuition. Then she tells me that the estate agents have phoned to say that the occupants of the bottom apartment have vacated the premises suddenly. Because rents are paid in advance, the financial side is not a problem, but they are obligated to a lease of another two years, and that will need sorting. She also tells me that the estate agents have arranged for new tenants to view the apartment tomorrow. Then she asks me why I'm grinning. I pull a silly face and tell her to get the estate agents on the phone for me. I spend five minutes talking to them, and when I cut the call, I sit back in my chair with a massive grin on my face. I reckon part of the reason the tenants left is because the Hillbillies have been making too much noise.

 

********** ********** ********** ********** **********

 

Herr Biermaier.

I see the movement first... just a glimpse of blue amongst the greens and browns and orange colours... over the white boundary wall at the bottom of the property... in the scrubland lower down the valley as I lie in my sun lounger on the veranda that overlooks the pool before me and then onto the valley and the hills beyond just as I'm recovering from my afternoon siesta under the shade that pulls out from its normally rolled up home. The weather is still holding up: hot and beautiful for a January day.  And then I see him. Blue top and blue shorts... on the small boy... which surprises me. I expected the older boy.

 

Another couple of minutes it takes before his small head appears over the top of the wall at the bottom of the property, and I know he must be standing on something to do that. He knows that I've seen him, and he grins. I grin back and wave a welcoming hand to him. I expect him to go round to the front of the house; to the main entrance, but instead, he climbs onto the wall and jumps down into the garden. He brushes his hands together to clear off the dusty soil, and then slowly walks around the sparkling blue swimming pool to get to me. Sandals and blue top and blue shorts... that's all he's wearing. Well, those and a big grin.

 

**********

 

He's an elfin. A beautiful one. Just my type. At first I'm regretting that it isn't the older boy who presented first, but now I'm pleased that it isn't. Elfin (Carlos Ramirez his name is he tells me, and his brother is Raul Garcia Ramirez), after I've fed him a few cookies and watered him and chatted to him in pidgin Spanish, does what his brother Raul would not have done... he sheds his clothes with not a care in the world and dives into the pool.

 

He's in the pool at least thirty minutes... well, in and out of it, playing with the pool toys and showing me how good he is at diving by repeatedly doing it. Yes, he's an elfin, but he's a damned cute one. His small pinkler has remained small, but even so, it's a delight to watch it bouncing about during his frolics. Even more of a delight is his gorgeous bottom; those two orbs of boy flesh that flex and bounce depending on what he's doing.

 

He's standing in front of me now, water running in rivulets down his sprite-like body, grinning... waiting? For what? I grin back at him but also take a quick glance at his pinkler. It's slightly bigger than normal. But warm sun does that to a boy. Before he came I'd arranged three sun loungers in a row, close together. (Why? I've been waiting too.) I pick up a towel from the one next to me and throw it to him. He catches it, and after he's drunk what drink was left in his plastic beaker and placed it empty on the table, he begins to rub himself down. When he's done, he places the towel over a rail and comes back to me. Again I smile at him, and then wave a hand towards the two sun loungers beside me. Crunch time!

 

He picks up my white sun hat from the sun lounger beside mine, gives it to me, and then, with hands behind his head and legs splayed slightly apart, he lies naked on his back. My semi-hard pinkler battles with my khaki shorts and finally settles as a huge bulge that cannot be hidden. I could turn over and lie on my belly, but I decide not to. I don't want either of the boys here just to drink my orange juice. I want to seduce them, and I've had enough practice with boys to know what works and what doesn't. When I reach down and adjust my stiff pinkler, I know Carlos has two options. If he's frightened he'll get up and go, but even if he is slightly afraid but his curiosity is greater than his fear of the unknown, he'll stay. When I've adjusted my pinkler to a more comfortable position, one that leaves no ambiguity to Carlos that I'm aroused, he looks at me and giggles. I giggle back, and then point at the sun and tell him the heat is working on me. He grins at that comment, and then looks down at his own pinkler, which is now growing larger, his knob expanding within the tip of foreskin to fill it completely. What was no more than five slack centimetres long is now more like eight erect ones. Not bad for a ten-year-old!

 

Carlos takes hold of it and fondles it, and then he grins and looks up at the sun. "Sol!"

 

I laugh and nod my head. "Sol." I may not get the chance again, so it's time to strike while the going is good. I take hold of my shorts and take them completely off, and then I lie back, point to the sun and then back at my pinkler, grin at Carlos, and say, "Sol!"

 

I don't miss the signal. Carlos's pinkler begins to throb. In his mind this is a boys together thing. Not brothers. No, this is different. That's why I fondle my huge pinkler in a way that a boy cannot mistake, my foreskin rolling on and off my purple head. He knows what I'm doing, and I see him doing the same, but his foreskin is a little tight and doesn't descend from the swollen knob. I look at him and give him a questioning look. Then I pull my foreskin right back and nod for him to do the same. He looks down at the swollen member and tries to push it off. Very slowly, it retracts and his small, throbbing pink glans is revealed in all its glory. I want to go down and take it and his small ballsac in my mouth now, but it's not time for that. Slowly, slowly catchee Carlos.

 

I lie back and sigh and continue to slowly masturbate... not enough to bring me to a climax, but just enough to give Carlos a hint that it's okay for him to do it. And he does, slowly... imitating what I'm doing. Then I grin at him, and say, "Bueno?" (Good.) He grins back and nods. I masturbate a short series of rapid strokes and then nod to Carlos again. "Muy bueno!" (Very good.) He nods again and his little fingers work faster. I know that he's getting the feelings, but he's hesitating, unsure what to do, so I prompt him, "Si. Muy bien! Hagalo!" (Yes. Very good! Do it!) I pretend that I'm joining in with him but I don't want to frighten him by blasting ropes of semen everywhere, so I control myself and wait for the inevitable consequences of Carlos's actions. It doesn't take long. (He's a boy!) His eyes close; his face contorts; his toes curl; his hips buck a few times as his fingers go into overdrive, and then it's over and he's panting. He gently strokes the tip, and then looks shyly at me. I give him a massive wink, and say, "Muy bueno."

 

He grins. "Muy bueno!"

 

Two minutes later and he's dressed and climbing over the wall to make his way to wherever, and five minutes after that I'm settled in front of the TV watching my last video of Hansie and me. Afterwards I sit and think. This is the critical time. These next few days actually... the time when a boy will tell... or the time when he will not tell. I have my defence. I have not touched the boy... therefore I cannot be accused of abusing him. Softlee softlee catchee boys.

 

To be continued...

 

You can find my other stories on Nifty here. If you wish to comment on this or any of my other stories, just drop me a line to john.thestoryteller@gmail.com Genuine comments will be appreciated. All flames will be extinguished in the trash bin.