WARNING (in annoying small print because no one reads this stuff anyway)
This story contains descriptions of sexual acts involving men and MINORS, which are an integral part of the story. While the story may appeal to prurient interests, it is intended to have serious literary value. As a friend once said: "Everyone has the right to fantasy. No one has the right to censor an imagination, or dreams." With that in mind, know that this story is not true! References to redacted documents and certain organizations are for fictional purposes only. The NSA is NOT tapping my phone and monitoring my online activities, as far as I know. BTW, the sexual acts described in the story are the result of my inebriated imagination. I have not performed these acts, and I do not encourage others to perform them with minors. The story is not intended to promote illegal acts against minors, but to demonstrate that men and boys can love each other despite the prevalent attitudes of western society. It is my goal to help readers appreciate that love. If you discover deeper meanings, hidden agendas, or political manifestos please keep them to yourself. 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 on until you have secured a safe hiding place!
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I hope the next year will be better for you.
“A professor, Mr. Yao?”
“Of Computer Science, Mr. Wang. From Princeton.”
Wang lifted a seaweed-wrapped crab roll onto his plate. With a fragile porcelain spoon, he added a generous helping of plum sauce, all the while watching Yao’s eyes behind thick black-rimmed spectacles. Experience told him that a short-sighted man was predictable, which took away some of the risk.
“An unusual choice of sauce,” Yao observed.
Yao was a typical Beijing businessman, attired in an innocuous black suit and a starched white shirt. His hair was black, but visibly thinning on top with a precise part on the left side—pedantic to look at, but very influential in government circles.
“As unusual as your last request,” Wang said blandly.
He rotated his crab roll through the sweet red sauce while Yao dipped in spicy Szechuan. Like Fu Manchu, Wang’s hair was thick and grey, a sharp downward mustachio conveying sense of purpose. He wore Armani, impeccably styled, double-breasted grey, with a pale blue shirt and a colorful swirling blue tie. If one looked closely, a dragon hid among the spirals.
“Plum enhances the taste of what is already sweet?” Yao asked, a guileless sneer to an attuned ear.
“What is exotic for one man is eccentric for another, Mr. Yao. Sweet and hot makes my heart stronger.” Wang dipped the roll in hot mustard to prove his point. He looked up. “This professor is important enough that we’re playing chess and talking about sauces for crab rolls?”
Yao’s mouth imitated a smile, but his eyes wavered, a poor pretense of looking for someone in the crowded restaurant. “Our particular interest is his decryption software called Waterboard.” He lowered his voice. “It’s a ministerial matter.”
Even with free enterprise burgeoning and post-Maoist communism fading, a wise businessman always coordinated his activities at the ministerial level.
Wang nodded obliquely, delighting in flaky morsels of crab before he swallowed. “I assume the Minister of Technology Advancement?”
In most of Wang’s business dealings, the Department of Technology Advancement had jurisdiction. In private, he considered the Minister underwhelming. He was an intellectual eunuch, the ideal Party sycophant.
“I spoke with Mr. Chu yesterday. He said American technology is far ahead in this area.”
Wang shrugged dismissively. “Everything appears ahead when you think you are behind.”
Yao looked down his nose. “We have someone who knows this for a fact; Mr. Chu’s nephew. He’s in his second year of Computer Science at Princeton. I spoke to him personally about it just last week.”
Unnecessarily, he adjusted his crimson tie. Wang suppressed a smile—Yao’s MBA degree was from Boston College, yet he shopped in Cambridge.
“He’s a knowledgeable young man?”
“He’s wān nán (gay ), but a bright lamp in the night nonetheless. He assured me that the core technology is remarkable. It will give America an advantage for many years.”
“Enough advantage to warrant the Azure Dragon?”
“More than we can discuss here. We must have access to the professor’s work as soon as possible, Mr. Wang.”
“Chu’s nephew is...”
“He’s the professor’s graduate assistant,” Yao said with barely restrained glee. At the time when he’d recommended him, he had no reason beyond flattery. “Unfortunately, the Waterboard code is always encrypted or we’d have it by now.”
Wang leaned closer. “Cai Shen has determined what is at stake justifies the risk?”
“Enough that I’m here. In itself, Waterboard has little commercial value, but it would unlock important secrets. Encrypted email and files opened in a matter of minutes instead of weeks or months, if ever.”
“You’d have your very own Wikileaks.”
Wang Yung-fa tapped the table, more amused than exasperated. Then, locking long bony fingers, he observed the other man. He was high-level Cai Shen to be sure, but he was still a corporate-government go-between. He was plain at first impression, average in every way, inscrutably emotionless, and a not-so-good chess player. He was an ideal facilitator for the transaction, though still not to be trusted.
After a long delay, Wang moved his rook two cautious spaces. “Such a bountiful garden should be nurtured,” he said with an innocuous nod at the chessboard.
Yao Chang smiled and relocated his queen. “A Beijing gardener said that you have beautiful flowers available at short notice.”
On any subject involving Huang, Wang kept his opinion to himself.
“I must tell you, Mr. Wang, that this professor is not easily tempted.”
The nephew had tried and failed, Wang concluded. “Temptation requires the right bait, Mr. Yao,” he said. He advanced a pawn.
“You’re the expert,” Yao scoffed, unmindful that Wang avoided a winning move by his queen three moves ahead.
Wang inclined his head. “With temptation, the error of one moment becomes the sorrow of a whole life.”
He looked away, his eyes pursuing a girl just entering the restaurant. She was slender and very self-aware in stiletto-heel red shoes and chic designer jeans. Her wind-tossed hair hung past her shoulders, dark brown and curling. Her finely featured oval face with full-red lips, pale almond skin, and startling large eyes meant that the only clue to her oriental heritage was a dark blue, gold, and black tangzhuang jacket.
She surveyed the lunchtime crowd at Jin Pao’s, every table occupied by at least one Asian businessman, dark-suited dour-faced executives from China Trust, China Merchants, and the Bank of China, a few fawning Wall Street brokers scattered among them. A gaunt pock-faced man beckoned to her. Daniel Rubenstein was the banker behind the equity exchange center in Shenzhen, Guangdong Province. She waved back, already headed his way. Emblazoned on her slender back was the Chinese character, 福(Fu).
“A beautiful flower brings 'happiness’,” Yao confided with a knowing smile.
“She’s still desirable?” Wang asked frankly.
“More than ever. She seems too young to have a child of her own,” Yao replied, appearing to study the chessboard intently, yet peeking at the girl, who having pecked the banker on the lips, now started towards them.
“Xǐaopang will be ten next April.”
“It doesn’t seem that long ago.” Yao mused, still looking down, yet following her every move. “One forgets that she’s 24,”
“Twenty two,” Wang corrected.
Outside, a bitter winter scoured New York’s financial district, whirling papers down the sidewalk. People undaunted by icy sidewalks bustled to and fro in thick overcoats, some lugging late Christmas shopping, others hurrying to lunch appointments.
“The Azure Dragon’s best kept secret,” he added quietly.
Yao smiled at the glass. Outside, a lady in high-heels and pants suit, an openly gay entrepreneur in Italian leather, a grey phalanx of self-important brokers striding abreast.
“As well it should be,” he agreed. “He impregnated a twelve-year-old virgin. Americans would never forgive him if they knew.”
She’d been with nine other men before she had her first period, yet the ever-circumspect Wang nodded agreement. Still a hint of a smile pulled the corners of his mouth. He’d learned the hard way not to trust anyone outside his family.
Then, it struck Yao like Mongolian wind. With the conception of Ling’s child, Wang had assured both his own future and China’s prosperity. Most Favored Nation was a miniscule treaty, just 435 words, but for two decades the US Congress had granted only temporary extensions. A Presidential signature on October 10, 2000, changed everything. A single day of unfettered trade justified the treasure spent to get it.
The girl was just yards away from them when Wang nodded, his decision made. “The usual fee, Mr. Yao. Two million dollars, payable in advance,” he said softly.
It sounded like a lot, but Yao returned a pleasant smile. “We have investors who will willingly pay it, but for safety, I cannot tell you who they are.”
Wang couldn’t help but smile at what was now a familiar story. “So Huang still seeks world domination?”
Yao flinched. “His garden has expansive needs, Mr. Wang.”
He placed a business card on the table as he reached for the porcelain teapot, consciously scrutinizing the girl for the slightest imperfection. He inched sideways, however it was Wang who gestured for her to sit beside him. In an uncharacteristic, almost fatherly display, he stroked her hand. Her delicate fingers were long like his, manicured with dusky violet nails to match her eye shadow.
“Ling, Mr. Yao would like us to bring happiness to…” He glanced at the business card. “Professor David Ryder, Ph.D, Department of Computer Science, Princeton University.”
Yao made eye contact quickly, and immediately blushed. She reminded him of a model in Vogue magazine, beautiful and aloof, scarcely Chinese. His eyes darted again and again to silk-embroidered azure-blue dragons on her lapels.
“He must be happy without delay. My contact tells me he has a meeting with the CIA next week,” he muttered, looking nervous.
“A day or two will suffice to set the hook,” Wang said simply, but his gaze lingered on the card.
He didn’t like rushed contracts. They always had more than their share of problems. The last time was the president of a company headquartered in Texas, planning to announce an electronics factory in Thailand at the end of the month. The man was ex-NFL, arrogant, and not very intelligent, though he’d written three books on leadership skills. Not unexpectedly, he’d changed his mind on the factory’s location as soon as Wang placed a photograph of him fucking a ten-year-old girl on a pedophile website. Even without seeing his face, one might deduce who he was from the tattoo on his arm. Even thinking about it left a bad taste in Wang’s mouth. He’d watched Ling assist the girl afterwards, her vagina bloodied from his nearly-nine-inch nigger cock
Yao breathed deeply. “There’s a slight complication. For Professor Ryder, happiness is a chrysanthemum.”
“Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it. That is why my Azure Dragons have Yin and Yang available,” Wang said abruptly.
Yao leaned closer. “He prefers little boys,” he whispered.
“Luán tong, a little unusual, but not so strange. Is it hair that he dislikes or other things?”
“The size, I expect,” Yao replied, his sneer unmistakable.
“When men savor seedless grapes, the smaller the better, Mr. Yao.”
“Even when there is nothing to taste?”
“Some say nothing is exotic, like a sauce that is both sweet and hot.”
“What do you say?”
Wang frowned. “Young boys were the vice of emperors for good reason. Unfortunately, I can’t provide what you ask at short notice.”
“You’ve satisfied requests for peanuts in the past.”
Wang looked down his nose. “Not recently. You might try a black tiger.”
“I’d prefer a blue dragon.”
“Professor Ryder has something of great value, Mr. Yao?” Ling asked sweetly.
“Cai Shen requires his algorithms for decrypting data.”
“A night or two with a bunny-boy would achieve your very worthwhile endeavor?”
Yao nodded cautiously, wondering whether she was making fun of him.
“And you know this because?”
“He has photos of naked boys on his computer,” Yao replied, unable to hide his disgust.
“Not every naked boy can charm a man to madness,” Wang said noncommittally.
Yao opened his portfolio, displaying a tiny laptop computer. He switched it on and tilted it towards Ling.
“This is his current favorite,” he sneered.
“The professor has good taste,” Ling remarked.
The boy was young enough that Lion King Junior featured on his bright red sweater. He sat on a black leather chair, grinning roguishly. His cargo pants were at his ankles with his slim smooth legs spread wide apart. His erect penis was large on his little body.
“He looked at this picture ten times yesterday.”
“This proves he prefers boys before puberty?” Wang quipped, observing a very tight scrotum.
Yao nodded uneasily. “There are other photos,” he said, glancing uncomfortably at his computer.
“I assume of boys?”
“They are younger… Is that a problem?”
Wang raised an eyebrow, amused that a man could be so naïve, but most men were the same.
“How old?” Ling asked calmly.
Yao shrugged. “Eight or less.”
She just smiled.
“Your flower must please him,” Yao added, glancing around nervously.
Wang looked up from the computer. “Would a seven-year-old please him?”
Yao was appalled. “My youngest son is seven! Seven is too young!”
“You mean he’s still a virgin?” Ling asked, her smile never changing.
Wang shrugged. “A well-trained seven-year-old is perfectly capable of satisfying your professor.”
Yao frowned back. “I’m sure he is.”
“Cai Shen has requested even younger boys,” Wang said airily.
“They wanted a boy no older than six last June,” Ling added with a smirk. It still amused her that such a young boy could seduce a university president just by bending over.
Wang didn’t smile. “Regrettably, I had to send him back to his mother afterwards.”
“Cai Shen does what it does,” Yao relented, giving a shrug of indifference.
“Imagine, Mr. Yao, a six-year-old boy prettier than any flower.“
Yao scowled back at her. “I doubt he is inclined to tóng xìng,” he said caustically.
Wang looked at him. “All my flowers are inclined. They are happy to do whatever I ask of them.”
“He might be eager, but no boy is that satisfying,” Yao went on, less acerbic.
“It matters not if a child is Yin or Yang; properly trained they all bring joy in the bedroom,” Wang said wryly.
“Who would want a tiny prick if there are girls available?” Yao chuckled at his own joke.
Wang smiled slightly. “It’s true; boys are nothing but problems.”
“They are badly-behaved?” Yao enquired.
Wang looked down his nose. “Boys will be boys, Mr. Yao. Sometimes, they need a firm hand; it’s part of their charm.”
“The sexual act is more stressful for a boy,” Ling added, completely unperturbed yet watching Yao’s reaction.
“Which is why the pleasure is so much greater with a girl,” Yao persisted.
“It feels the same in either passage, but I have Ling to take care of our girls,” Wang said brusquely.
“Is that why you don’t have boys on hand?” Yao asked, almost hopefully.
“With one child per family, girls are more easily acquired,” Wang replied, verging on being rude.
Yao offered a conciliatory smile in Ling’s direction. “Ten or eleven years old will no doubt please him.”
“I could use a boy of that age on the Azure Dragon,” Wang allowed, setting his castle down. “Unfortunately, it’s difficult to acquire one at short notice.”
“I’m sure. However, the Minister insists we move quickly. What if I double your fee?”
“A boy must be carefully selected,” Wang interrupted. “It will take a month to find suitable candidates, and another month to arrange adoption. The seven year old is available with two days’ notice.”
“An older boy is not available?”
“Not readily, Mr. Yao.”
Yao’s hand paused over his queen. “Surely a few years older… it would be easier for him to do what a man needs.”
“Actually, it’s harder for an older boy to unlock Heaven’s gate,” Ling said, her tone verging on rude.
Yao made a sound that might have been a snicker. “I doubt that’s true,” he muttered almost to himself. “I’d prefer an older boy… if he’s not too big,” he decided.
“Size is an issue for you too?” Wang inquired, a smirk in the offing.
“The professor’s other boys are small there,” Yao said, keeping his eyes fixed on the chessboard.
Wang selected another crab roll and added more plum sauce to his bowl before he turned the computer towards him. He glanced at the screen and nudged Ling’s arm.
“Even though the professor’s favorite is big for his age, I appreciate his attraction.”
Ling smiled fleetingly. “Mr. Wang, might I suggest Jerry?”
“A sensible choice, but he’s just turned thirteen.”
“He’s still small.”
“How small?” Yao asked, sitting up.
She held out her thumb and forefinger, not far apart.
“Hardly worth having,” Yao said with a disparagingly gesture.
As most fathers do, he’d often wondered about his own thirteen-year-old son. From the bulge in his jeans, his penis had to be near Western size.
“Size, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder,” Wang replied.
“Not to a woman. Perhaps if he’s shaved,” Yao mused.
His son had hair, a small black bush. He’d seen it when he accompanied the boy to his last check-up, his silk boxer-briefs pushed down to the start of his crotch, barely hiding his prominent pubis.
“There’s nothing to shave, Mr. Yao. All of our flowers have their hair permanently removed as soon as it appears.”
Yao’s interest was piqued enough that he risked a glance at Ling. She met his eyes and smiled back at him, a silent affirmation of his unspoken question.
“This Jerry, he’s a good looking boy?”
“A crane standing amidst a flock of chickens. Unfortunately, he’s in Seattle,” Wang explained.
Yao raised an eyebrow. Although his preliminary research had confirmed the man was bisexual, he’d expected a girl would service the president of Microtron. “Is it already done?”
Wang smiled serenely. “It’s taking a few days longer than expected. We’ll complete the transaction by the end of the week.”
“Is he available by Friday?”
“Unlike Black Tiger, our flowers aren’t whores, Mr. Yao,” Ling replied. “One client a month is the rule.”
“I’m sure he needs time to recuperate,” Yao smirked. “If that’s the only problem, the professor isn’t worth the time to find a virgin.”
“There are ways to tighten a boy’s hole so it appears unused.” Wang stroked his chin. “The problem is the professor will lose interest when our boy squirts his seed.”
“It’s no more than a droplet,” Ling countered.
Wang studied the chessboard, check two moves away. “Even a droplet is too much for a man who likes little boys.”
“Mr. Wang, Xǐaopang’s eggs are dry.”
Wang nodded thoughtfully, but didn’t look up. “I assumed he’s been with boys?”
“He’s been sharing his pillow for three years now. Chung tells me he likes to play in the rear courtyard,” Ling added as if further confirmation was required.
Finally, Wang raised his head. “Sweet, spicy, and hot; but does he have eyes for men?”
“He looks when he thinks I don’t notice.”
Yao blinked at Ling, owl-like through round thick lenses.
Wang smiled and stroked his chin yet again. “A true Shanghai boy by the sound of it, but I must be certain.”
“When I spoke to him on the phone last week, he told me he’s ready to be a dragon boy.”
“Ah; then perhaps he’s ready for his chrysanthemum to bloom. His first step is a big one nonetheless,” Wang mused, still stroking. “Do you have a photo of your professor, Mr. Yao?”
Yao clicked and brought up a second image, a small grainy photo culled from the faculty directory.
“He has crinkly eyes,” Wang said to himself. “An intelligent man by all accounts.”
“Xǐaopang could do worse for his first man, Mr. Wang.”
Wang kept rubbing his chin, glancing from the computer to Ling and back again. “He looks gentle enough.” He inclined his head, closely studying the image. “Patient yet firm is the ideal combination.”
“Xǐaopang is a seedling ready for planting,” Ling said emphatically.
“It’s best if he blooms as soon as he’s rooted.”
“I agree. It’s a pity we don’t have the time to get him ready.”
“I have a question…” Yao reddened as most men would, curious despite themselves. “What do you do to make a little boy big enough? His bottom-hole, I mean.”
“Before or after he’s been deflowered?” Ling asked.
Yao smirked. “You still need to make his ass bigger after he’s lost his cherry?”
“An impudent expression, even for an imprudent representative of Cai Shen,” Wang commented dryly.
“It’s not as if a boy has a hymen.”
“His first time with a man is still his most-treasured gift. A boy’s portal a thing of boundless joy. To open the gate beforehand would be a great dishonor.”
“Everyone knows the Gate to Heaven is a girl’s vagina.”
“It’s no less heavenly for a boy, Mr. Yao. A man’s journey on any untrodden path should be a lasting memory afterwards.
“I’m sure he doesn’t mean to trivialize Xǐaopang’s ability to give pleasure, Mr. Wang,” Ling said, lacking the tone of apology. She turned to Yao. “To answer your question, we use acupuncture to calm the muscle beforehand.”
“A few pricks; that’s it?” Yao was in the mood to dispute.
“A well-placed needle opens the tightest hole. Once his qi flows, the rest is easy,” Ling said, modest by nature.
Wang gestured dismissively. “What happens in the bedroom is difficult for a boy. He must be properly stretched if he’s going to enjoy it.”
“He sits on a cow horn,” Ling replied. “The thickness of a finger gradually becomes a broomstick, then...”
“You don’t mind your son doing that?”
“Better a cow horn than a clumsy man’s tool.” She stopped when Wang frowned at her.
“The horn is the traditional way to train young boys to love men,” Wang acknowledged.
Yao gaped, his imagination taking flight. “What’s the modern way? A rechargeable dildo?”
“Plastic toys encourage bad habits, Mr. Yao,” Wang replied, looking down his nose.
“Isn’t it what homosexuals do to stretch themselves?”
“I have no interest in the barbaric practices of western queers.”
“Some would say barbaric is sitting on a cow horn,” Yao returned, his snicker unmistakable.
Wang lifted his eyes. “Our boys relish the discipline of the horn, Mr. Yao.”
“And Xǐaopang?” Yao asked boldly. “He will willingly sit on it?”
Ling smiled fondly—she’d seen it done often enough that the shock had passed long ago. It was always unpleasant the first time a boy sat down—the greasy horn was unyielding. Most boys cried at first and tried to get off, but they settled down quickly. From her experience, the sooner a boy sat down the better.
“More than most,” she replied.
“The younger the boy, the stronger the need,” Wang added.
Yao shifted uncomfortably. “How long does it take?”
Wang regarded him with amusement. “An hour a day will stretch the most obstinate muscle. An hour longer and there is more flexibility afterwards.”
“Xǐaopang will spend two every day with a cow horn up his ass?”
“Once a boy is properly stretched, the stool will teach him how to give pleasure, Mr. Yao.”
“No different than going to school,” Yao quipped to hide his discomfort.
“My son will use the stool for as long as it takes him to learn the art of luán tong.”
Yao looked at Wang, even more uncomfortable. “Bending over can’t be that difficult.”
“Our boys must learn to control their bodies in order to give men the ultimate joy,” Wang said curtly.
The very thought disturbed Yao. “This horn makes a boy’s hole larger forever?”
Wang frowned momentarily. “A gardener knows that nothing in nature is permanent.”
“But surely, it makes it bigger than normal.”
“The horn expands the inner chamber and strengthens the muscles. It matters not if the hole is loose or tight once a boy learns to control it,” Ling explained, playing to Yao’s fascination.
“The stronger the better, eh?” Yao pondered aloud.
Ling shrugged in response.
“Strong muscles are expected of Shanghai boys,” Wang affirmed, noting Yao’s delay on the chessboard.
“I should have expected tradition for the Azure Dragon,” Yao said superciliously.
He’d heard tales of Shanghai boys. A century earlier, they sat on peg stools, trained to use their bowels to entertain foreign sailors. There were rumors of exclusive brothels in Huangpu district still offering peg-boys from Laos and Cambodia.
His curiosity took charge. “You’d make Fatty’s son a Shanghai boy at eight?”
“Xǐaopang is nine, Mr. Yao. He’s known since he was six what men do to boys.”
Unable to think beyond ‘six’, Yao reached for tea, almost knocking over the delicate porcelain cup. Wang concealed his smile, no longer needing to ask.
“I assume it’s painful?” Yao asked, looking uneasily at Ling.
She gave a slight shrug. Every boy whimpered when he sat on the horn. Some screamed, especially when it went in too quickly.
“Most trees bow to the wind; a few resist and break branches,” Wang said, ready to end the game.
“And Xǐaopang, will he bow or break?” Yao asked directly.
“He’ll complain for a while, but he already sits with his knees together,” she said with posed calm.
Wang nodded, not at all surprised—very little escaped his scrutiny. “Another good sign he’s líng hào (a bottom). No doubt he’ll suffer some constipation, but his bud will bloom quickly.”
He wasn’t always so oblique, but warning bells were going off. He peered at Yao’s computer and clicked back to the preceding image, nodding thoughtfully.
“His favorite boy has a big gou, but none of the others do,” Yao pointed out.
“If the professor prefers little pricks, Xǐaopang is like his father,” Ling snickered.
That got Yao’s attention and a chuckle. “My wife says the bigger the man’s ego, the smaller the manhood.”
After a thoughtful moment, Wang glanced up. “Your professor will enjoy Xǐaopang in other ways too; he’s determined and serious, yet adventurous and eager to play.”
“That’s good in a boy!” Yao agreed, thinking again of his youngest son. Only a day earlier, his wife had observed he was ‘like a cherry tree ready to blossom.’ Perhaps she’d observed something he didn’t….
“A queer boy who’s full of surprises is a good match for a mathematician.”
Ling smiled. “Xǐaopang will also be happy with him.”
Wang nodded slowly, still undecided. “There is no wave without wind.”
“Jerry has taught him what boys do, Mr. Wang.”
Wang chuckled. “A gentle breeze to begin is better than being untouched.” He nodded at Yao before he turned back to her. “You want your son tattooed?” he asked directly.
After a moment, she shrugged. “Mr. Wang, is not giving your son a skill better than giving him one thousand pieces of gold?”
Wang chuckled again before studying the computer again. His brow furrowed, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Do we have a contract, Mr. Wang?” Yao asked almost rudely.
Wang glanced up, frowning. “I’m still concerned Xǐaopang might not agree with your mathematician.”
“Punk-light works for Jerry,” Ling pointed out.
“The rogue-look attracts a lot of men. Tell me more about the professor, Mr. Yao.”
Yao confidently refreshed his tea, the chess game so long neglected that he’d forgotten it was his move. He carefully sipped tea, Hui Gan with a hint of ginseng, mildly blended for American tastes.
“Fifty-three makes him a Monkey,” Wang mused, back to looking at the professor’s photograph.
“You can do that in your head?” Yao asked.
“Fun, unpredictable, and charming; he’s the perfect companion for our little dragon. Tell me more.”
“He’s divorced, with two kids in college. His doctorate is from Cambridge, but he’s Australian by birth. He’s published three books on mathematics. He rides a Harley motorcycle to work sometimes.”
“Ah, an outlaw too! And what food does he like? His favorite music?”
Yao shrugged. “I can find out more about him if you want me to.”
“As soon as possible. Get more photos too. I need to know what lies ahead, including how big his tool is.”
“I’ll try,” Yao muttered, reddening.
“His pleasure requires penetration of a little boy, Mr. Yao. No man has been inside Xǐaopang, which necessitates more care than normal.”
Ling smiled. “A few days with my girls’ eggs and Xǐaopang will be large enough,” she said softly.
Yao looked up with a frown.
“Have him start immediately,” Wang said directly. “Nothing bigger than quail. He should be tight.”
“I expect my son will be eager for more.”
Wang sighed. “Even if a boy is bred for sodomy like Jerry and Jinhai, there is no guarantee until he’s tried it.”
“There will be after he’s joined,” Ling said calmly.
“You must use Fatty’s son for this assignment?” Yao demanded, suddenly nervous.
“The father who begets a bunny son can only blame himself,” Wang remarked blandly.
“His father’s still a very powerful man.”
“When storms blow in, it pays to have insurance. Can you think of a more shameful thing for a man like him, Mr. Yao?”
“Only if Little Fatty had sex with black men.”
Wang chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Yao. Perhaps that pig from Texas?”
“Having my son spend a night with your professor will be ample insurance.”
Wang directed his gaze at Ling. “Mating a monkey and our little dragon will require more than one pillow.”
She nodded, silently thoughtful. “One or many makes no difference.”
Wang gestured at Ryder’s photo. “Many will bond them stronger than father and son.”
She shrugged. “If I know my son, he will enjoy jijian (anal intercourse).”
“The question is can we prepare him in time?”
“He can learn on the job like I did, Mr. Wang.”
“It’s not the same for a boy, Ling. He bends nature’s will to satisfy a man,” Wang said. “It is very painful until he gets used to it.”
“A chicken lays eggs by squatting down, Fa.”
“That some paths are easier is a matter of degree,” Wang agreed.
“You said a needle can open any hole?” Yao contested.
“A closed mind is like a closed book; just a block of wood,” Wang responded. He touched her arm, meeting eyes. “It’s your decision, but once he’s tattooed he belongs to the Dragon.”
“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”
Wang nodded. “I’ll call Chung. Xǐaopang must have a dragon like yours.”
“Is there time?” Ling asked.
“If he’s on the plane as soon as it’s done, his flower will bloom before he scabs.”
“I could arrange for the girls to have a holiday?”
Wang didn’t answer right away. “Seeing as no one is interested in buying the Azure Dragon, we might as well use it and save the airfares to Saint Lucia. Arrange for your son to be in New York by Friday…” He turned to Yao. “Send email to Mr. Chu. His nephew has homework to do.”
David Ryder’s office was a shambles like his personal life. It had been that way for 24 years, ever since he relocated to the remote western corner of the 4th floor, trading easy access and a view of the street for the peace and quiet needed to apply fuzzy logic to obscure mathematical concepts. He was untidy by nature, but he also collected computational things, whether an ivory abacus from the Song Dynasty, an Egyptian Mathematical Papyrus of the Second Intermediate Period, or an eight-foot-long instructional slide-rule from a Brooklyn high school. There were even three cardboard boxes of early circuit boards from ENIAC and EDSAC, unopened because there was simply nowhere to put them.
Books covered almost every horizontal surface, several stacks dangerously close to collapsing. Only the space in front of his computer was free of clutter, although immediately to its right was a pile of 19 ungraded papers on ‘Cryptology and Chaos Theory,’ which was the professor’s specialty.
At 9:55 pm on Tuesday night, he edited a screen of arcane commands, a mish-mash of formal code and his own inventions. He saved the file and ran ‘compile.’ His computer was an unlikely Darth Vader-like tower with a blue esoteric light pulsing within, the sort of computer that geek-gamers used when they could afford it.
“Ready to run. It’s all yours, Mike,” he called out.
“Starting Waterboard. Auto-decoding, now! One…One-point-four. Trying Turing at level two… Three… Stabilizing at three-point-five bips, Professor!” Mike shouted through the open door. “The quick brown fox 38jumps2over@the lazy&cat.”
“Seventeen seconds on my computer, ten more on yours. I need to clean out some crappy code, but that’s not too bad considering the difficulty level. We’ll try running Blowfish algorithms tomorrow after class.”
“After lunch would be better.”
Ryder stood, blinked, rubbed at his bleary eyes, and yawned. “That works. Good progress tonight, Mike.”
Mike Chu hurriedly switched off his monitor and pressed the reboot button. He glanced over his shoulder. After a moment, he rolled back his chair, stood up, yawned, and shuffled over to his backpack, a half-eaten sub-sandwich in hand. He made a point of yawning again, just as casual as he could be.
He was almost out the door when he turned. His hair was straight black bristles, more geek than Goth. His classic-Chinese eyes and blunt nose vied with black leather jeans and a skin-tight black Calvin Klein T-shirt.
“A friend of my uncle is visiting this week. He said he’d like to meet you.”
“So am I free?” David joked. He didn’t mind his graduate assistant checking his calendar—it was like having a personal secretary.
“You are if you want to meet him.” Mike hesitated. “He’s bringing his family, if that’s okay?”
“Sure. When and where?” David asked, terminating Waterboard before clicking ‘secure’ mode to randomly scramble memory chips and encrypt a half terabyte of top-secret test data, most of it Russian and British recorded phone calls.
“I managed to get a reservation for diner at China Gourmet, Friday, seven pm,” Mike said as he breezed out the door. “Wǎn ān,” he added over his shoulder.
“Zài jiàn.” Ryder said, his mind already elsewhere.
After three Chinese graduate assistants in ten years, he was sure they all went to the China Gourmet for dinner at least three times every week.
Mike waited outside until he heard the lock click before he sprinted down the corridor. He took the stairs two at a time, his heart pounding. He exited the fire-stair on the second floor, and hurried into the Donaldson Computer Lab, acknowledging the evening monitor with a friendly wave, an electrical engineering genius named Chou Sung. Seconds later, his laptop was out of his backpack and plugged into the jack. Within a minute of leaving Professor Ryder’s office, live video as well as desktop sharing streamed into his hard drive, but as far as anyone in the lab knew, Mike was finishing up a programming assignment.
Mike didn’t calm down for an hour, not until he was back at his room at Proctor Hall. He was still trembling as he stripped off his down jacket, locked the door and adjusted the volume on his laptop. He turned up the TV volume, just in case.
Not surprisingly, the boy was on the professor’s screen again. There were a dozen of photos of him in his red Lion-King sweater and khaki cargo pants, barefoot with Game-Boy or transformer spaceship in hand, romping from living room to bedroom, to bathroom, to an outdoor deck with stucco walls and potted plants. They were perfectly legal photos that anyone could find on imgsrc. If the filenames were any indication, his name was Aaron, supposedly German. He played like any boy his age; but he looked at the camera defiantly. He seemed innocent at first glance, but not after scrutiny. There was something about him, almost as if he was waiting for something to happen.
Aaron was playing on a dark grey couch when his cargo pants came off. One moment he was lying on his back with his legs up like a cat getting its belly rubbed, his head on a pillow almost the same color as his seriously steel-blue eyes; the next, he was bare from the waist down. He was well-endowed for his age; his rigid penis was long and straight, barely hooded, and wet with spit. He posed in the classic fuck-me position with the camera focused on his crack; from seemingly virgin child to shameless, well-used catamite in a single photograph, one that Mike hadn’t seen before.
He smirked as he hurriedly kicked off his Nikes and dragged down his zipper. After two years playing ‘catcher,’ he recognized the signs: sooty smudges on the insides of Aaron’s buttocks, a deeply puckered reddened anus that was cone-shaped rather than tightly knotted. However, even more than those telltale signs, the boy’s look of anticipation gave the game away.
“You know what goes in your júhuā (lit. chrysanthemum), don’t you Aaron?” Mike muttered.
He shucked his leather pants and black boxer briefs, breathing deeply, thinking it strange that a boy who was probably only nine was already so used to anal sex that he smiled about it.
“He’s hot, isn’t he David?” Mike whispered, licking his lips as he settled back on his twin bed.
It took some rearranging to show both Professor Ryder’s desktop and the captured video on his laptop screen. Ryder was already masturbating, completely unaware that the videocam above his monitor was recording, its warning red LED conveniently disconnected.
Mike stared shamelessly. He could see the professor’s arm moving, and sometimes the top inch or two of his circumcised cock. It was huge. He trembled as he started to stroke his own erection.
“You like my cock, David?” Mike huffed, turning his laptop sideways and pointing to his penis. “I bet you like Aaron’s little cock more, don’t you?” he jeered.
His 5¼” cock was average by Asian standards, slightly curved, uncut, with a tidy patch of jet-black pubic hair and dark-skinned balls underneath. His genitals might have belonged on a 14-year-old, but Mike Chu was 24. He knew he wasn’t well-endowed by Western standards, but it didn’t stop him from fantasizing. Day and night, he dreamed about riding behind the professor on his Harley, both dressed in studded black leather. The highlight was undressing, revealing the professor’s lanky body, kneeling as he sucked before fucking all night at a biker motel.
Then, the next image appeared on the screen and his fantasy went out the door. He swallowed and licked his lips again.
“Aaron’s going to get fucked… I bet you wish it was your cock going up his boy-cunt.”
He squeezed his rigid penis, making the head bulge and darken, imagining what it would feel like inside a little boy’s body instead of one of the Chinese undergraduates from Chester House. By then, Ryder was masturbating furiously, staring at his monitor. Aaron’s man-friend, or rather the tip of his enormous cock was poking at Aaron’s backdoor. Then, Ryder stood up and shoved his pants and briefs down.
“Fuck,” Mike murmured. “He’s fucking shaved!”
He’d never been infatuated before, but he was now. He was breathless. The professor’s penis was thick, long enough that he would’ve had to use two hands to hold it. And that big fat head , shaped like a delicious strawberry, and colored like a plum… Even without hair, it turned Mike on, enough that his hand moved onto his groin, staring fixedly.
“He’s bigger than I thought,” Mike whispered, his professor’s denuded genitals seeming disproportionately large, especially compared to his own.
Aaron’s man friend was shaved too, and his penis was just as large, big enough to make a bottom think twice. It didn’t seem to bother Aaron though; he grinned at the camera.
With the next photo, Mike realized why the professor had dropped his chinos and briefs—he knew what came next. Aaron’s adult lover was clearly getting ready to go inside because now the boy was perched on the edge of the couch with a red towel under him.
“He likes big dicks like yours, Professor,” Mike said in awe.
Maybe the man was Aaron’s father, or maybe an uncle, but whoever it was, Aaron obviously liked him a lot. The big toothy grin stayed plastered on his face, his big steel-blue eyes almost pleading, nine-year-old hands reaching down to guide the man’s thick hard penis into his ass.
The next photo couldn’t appear fast enough.
“Wǒ kào!” (What the fuck!”)
There was a big blob of Vaseline plopped on Aaron’s anus, with more coating the man’s hairless cock. It glistened with grease, from his pendulous shaved balls to the bulbous knob on the end. It was the kind of cock that never went in easily. Even a grown man would be bruised afterwards, but Aaron didn’t mind. He beamed, showing perfect white teeth, ready and willing for sexual intercourse.
“Come on! Next fucking photo, you boy-loving pervert,” Mike growled.
By then, his breathing was uneven, straining every time he inhaled, caught between needing to watch his mentor masturbate and seeing what happened to Aaron, and collecting the information his uncle requested. Hurriedly, he snapped a photo of his professor’s face, another when the man stood up and his chinos slipped even farther down his thighs.
He typed his email erratically, stroking his cock after every other word. ‘18cm about. may be longer” It had to be 5 cm wide, like a beer-can around. He added ‘circumcised,’ even though it was blatantly obvious. He smirked as he typed, ‘shaves his groin,’ wondering what his uncle would think.
“Fuck.” Mike inhaled deeply. His hands were clammy, his face hot. He licked his lips.
There was something about the kid that excited him. It was more than his delicious little boy-body. His face. His grin. The way his eyes sparkled with fun. The kid was a sexy little imp, and he knew it. That a little boy could have the professor in his bed whenever he wanted made Mike envious.
‘tells good jokes. Likes italian & mexican food…’ Mike stopped typing. He had to pause because his hand was shaking. Even a few moments of thinking about his professor aroused him so much that he desperately needed to masturbate.
Mike gazed at his laptop, resisting the urge for as long as he could. Now stark-naked, the boy looked as if he’d never been in the sun, pink-pale skin with almost no fat on him. His grey-blue eyes were entrancing, still innocent, yet depraved. It was if Ryder enjoyed making himself wait as well, even slowing down his rubbing as he peered at his monitor. He could see the professor taking deep breaths, fixing the image in his mind before he moved to the next photo. Mike forced himself to type again, everything he knew about Professor Ryder.
‘beer and tequila. hates administration. no political party. he went to tea party rally last month. Made funny comments next day. hangs out in new york on weekends. listens to stones.’
Both professor and student suddenly leaned closer. It was a ‘head in the hole’ shot, the man’s huge helmet-head just inside Aaron’s anus, forcing back the tightly stretched opening so it bulged out behind the rim. It looked like it should’ve hurt, but Aaron was wide-eyed, still grinning gleefully, clearly used to having an adult penis lodged inside him. And semen, like thick cream, oozed between them, a white viscous dribble escaping down Aaron’s crack, his little balls tightly contracted and glistening with lubricant, his penis swollen and red. It was bigger than boy-sized, at lease Chinese boys. Mike could almost feel it throbbing mightily, trying to ejaculate three years before it was supposed to.
“Fuck!” Mike groaned, no longer certain of anything as he squirted gobs of thick Asian semen onto his chest and belly.
The China Gourmet was opposite the Springdale Golf Club, a boring two-story box with mock Medieval framing, very un-Asian. Ryder was waiting outside when Wang’s black limousine pulled up.
“This is Mr. Wang Yung-fa, Professor Ryder,” Mike said, hanging back, but he was always nervous when he was near his favorite teacher.
However, he was edgy for other reasons. His only preparation was a five-minute lecture during the trip in the car. It seemed like he’d learned nothing at all, despite Wang going back and forth over what he needed to say. Ling didn’t say a word, but she still distracted him, sitting beside him, her slender thigh pressing against his thigh as if she knew he was gay and wanted to taunt him. But it was her kid who he couldn’t get out of his mind. The kid was sexy-punk, and an absolute joy to look at. He was gracefully slim like her, and just as quiet.
“Mr. Wang, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Ryder said, extending one hand, his other hand still gloved.
Well over six feet tall, he stood nearly a full head taller than Mike, who gazed up at him with adoring eyes.
“No, it’s my pleasure, Doctor Ryder.”
Wang grasped firmly, noting the other man’s grip; a mere professor, not wealthy or powerful, but he had abundant intelligence, a man not to be scorned.
“This is Ling,” Mike mumbled.
“Mike’s told us so much about you,” Ling smiled delightfully.
“I’m delighted to meet you,” Ryder said, feeling uncharacteristically humble as his gaze shifted left.
Wang couldn’t help but notice his reaction, a sudden quick breath. “And this is Billy Lee.”
The boy wasn’t dressed for chilly New Jersey weather, thin bare arms in a short-sleeved shimmering black tee shirt and a black Mongolian lambskin vest. The vest looked very expensive, shaggy wool clumped together in thick strands, some so long that it was difficult to tell where the boy’s hair ended and the vest began. Ryder thought it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
After a moment, Wang chuckled. “I’m afraid we’ve awaken a sleeping dragon.”
He observed how Ryder’s eyes lingered on the boy. It was impossible not to, especially his crotch, which seemed exaggerated. It was more than a crease in his stove-pipe black jeans—it seemed to stick out, a bulge prominent enough that the boy might have been erect. Then, Ryder stuck out his hand, but Billy Lee just stared, blinking bleary eyed.
“He just got off the plane from Shanghai. He fell asleep in the car,” Wang apologized, nudging the child forward.
“He looks like I do after a long flight,” Ryder chuckled.
He kept smiling down, his hand still out. The little boy was like a precious porcelain doll. The top of Billy’s head came up a little past his waist.
Despite his size, Ryder’s voice was soft and reassuring, and his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Billy slowly looked up with a magical smile of his own. Ryder was instantly intoxicated.
“Nín hǎo,” Billy murmured, smiling shyly and stealing a sideways glance at Wang.
Then, he slipped his little hand into Ryder’s gentle squeeze. For several long moments, they gazed at each other, not shaking, just holding hands and sharing their body heat until Ryder meekly released his grip. He was sure his hand trembled.
Wang smiled approvingly at Ling. “Flies never visit an egg that has no crack,” he said very softly.
She drew the nervous boy close to her, her arm resting on his shoulder as if her warmth would seep into him and restore his energy.
“His flight was delayed. We barely had time for him to shower at Mike’s apartment,” Ling explained, her fingers lightly stroking his long dark hair, still damp from his shower.
Billy’s eyes fluttered like his heart. He wanted to yawn. He blinked again, trying hard to remember everything he’d been told. His mother said this foreigner would complete his Shi Chen Ba Zi, his four pillars of destiny. His destiny began at his birth, his Hour Pillar, His Day Pillar, His Month Pillar, and Year, each one a dragon, all of them resolutely confirming their compatibility. After that, it got very confusing.
“I’m sorry he’s grumpy,” Ling said, her hand keeping him close.
Billy gazed up at Ryder, his dark eyes searching for compatibility, not at all sure what he was supposed to find. His penis itched even more as it began to stiffen, but he resisted the compulsion to touch himself. It was just like his mother said it would be, a funny warm feeling all over his body, but he still couldn’t help yawning.
“The shower was supposed to refresh him.”
“I don’t think it worked,” Ryder joked feebly, unable to look away. Lust had overpowered logic in a matter of moments.
Only three days earlier, a New Zealand friend teaching in the Department of Psychology said over lunch at the Faculty Club that it took 0.13 seconds on average to determine a person’s attractiveness. Ryder was certain it was even faster in his case.
The little boy was everything he’d ever dreamed about, far more desirable than Aaron, which seemed strange because Asian boys had never aroused him in the past. The longer he stared, the more flustered he became. The boy was unquestionably oriental, and yet he wasn’t; his rounder eyes disputed the almond tone of his skin; he had a smallish mouth with full Cupid’s bow lips—promising far more passion than a typical Asian; and his perfectly straight hair was a deep dark brown rather than black.
“He’s a handsome boy,” Ryder muttered, so infatuated that it seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to say.
He could feel Wang’s eyes on him, searching for nuance in every expression. He dared not lower his eyes again. The boy’s bulge was even more prominent—he had to be erect for it to stick out like that.
“A beautiful mother and a handsome American father.” Wang patted the boy’s head affectionately.
Startlingly beautiful. He reminded Ryder of a boy who he’d seen in a blockbuster movie, but whose name he hadn’t remembered long enough to track down on the Internet; or a high-priced fashion model, with such tantalizing androgynous features that one was never quite certain of gender. In addition to his abundant good looks, he had an endearing smile that made Ryder feel extraordinarily lightheaded. Whenever their eyes met, he felt as if he was going to tremble.
“East meets west makes an interesting permutation,” Ryder said, feeling utterly inconsequential.
There was something about the boy that instinctively attracted him. It began with punk and effeminate clothes, and a bulbous groin, arousing desire so strong that he felt giddy. Worse was the tightness in his briefs; it was very unsettling. Fortunately, it didn’t happen very often in public, only when an obviously gay boy was nearby, and then he had to be young and extremely good-looking.
“Welcome to America,” he said, just before realizing that he sounded like a complete idiot.
Mike pretended to study the cars going past while he scowled to himself. Although Wang hadn’t told him, it was painfully obvious why Billy was there. After six months of hanging on the professor’s every word and getting As on every exam, he was insanely jealous. When he finally turned around, he stared longingly at the man’s crotch. He couldn’t help it—Ryder’s erection was obvious. Even Billy noticed.
“I’m a dragon,” Billy peeped in a boyish, flute-pure voice. “What sign are you?”
Ryder smiled, not completely befuddled because he realized Billy was talking about the Zodiac, but he had no idea what he was.
“You’re not a Dragon, are you?” Billy added, more shy mouse than boy.
With that, Ryder promptly decided he was highly intelligent, perhaps even a math genius like 99 percent of his Asian students, but they were boring, with almost no sense of humor.
“He’s a monkey, Xǐaopang,” Ling replied.
“I am?” Ryder asked. Ling, he wasn’t at all sure about—she seemed to be two steps ahead.
“You were born in 1956, Doctor Ryder. It’s on your department biography,” she explained with a brazen smile.
“Shall we go in before he falls asleep again?” Wang gestured to the door.
Inside was a mishmash of low-budget Chinese, Taiwanese, and Japanese décor, with a few Thai and Vietnamese knick-knacks tossed in, the sort of gaudy mass-produced trinkets that tourists acquired at bamboo stalls on their way to any airport in Asia. Wang regarded eclecticism with distaste, exchanging a deprecating glance with Ling. He could smell cheap curry, fish, and stale grease. The hostess, who looked more like a courtesan in flimsy red and gold silk, also served drinks in a noisy Bangkok-style bar.
The restaurant was crowded, a handwritten ‘sit youself’ sign pinned to the counter edge with ‘reservation reqired’ in plain view next to it. Five waiters in less-than-white uniforms bustled from one table to the next. With the exception of a dozen Asian students who got special treatment with exotic platters that weren’t on the menu, the patrons were hungry Westerners, glad to be sitting down instead of waiting in long lines at more popular restaurants. In the background, was a shrill recording of Liu Su.
“Beijing, it is not,” Wang remarked, looking around. He turned to Ryder. “Please forgive me, Professor.”
With a single booth unoccupied, Mike hurried over to the nearest waiter, jabbering in Mandarin and gesticulating, obviously sharing Wang’s disgust. Ryder smiled as he caught Billy’s bemused look. The little boy was almost too tired to stand, but he was still alert, busily taking in the world around him.
“Everywhere is crowded on a Friday night, especially at this time of the year,” Ryder explained. “We could always go to McDonalds. Have you had McFried Rice?” he teased Billy.
Billy grinned, his dark eyes charming the man into his own hazy stupor. Monkey and dragon stared at each other, and another piece of the Zodiac puzzle found its place in the Universe. Wang nodded at Ling—not much escaped him, or her either, because she nodded back. It was obvious what had happened even if Billy didn’t realize. At nine years and eight months, he still lived to have fun.
“It is like their chicken strips?” Billy said in an enchanting squeak.
Ryder smiled. “I expect so.”
Ling’s hand settled on Billy’s shoulder again. She seemed to be reassuring him. It struck Ryder that maybe she was encouraging him to keep the conversation going.
“Do you think they use real chicken, Billy?” he asked.
Billy beamed back. “Do you think they use real rice, Mr. Ryder?”
“Professor Ryder,” Ling corrected.
Ryder chuckled. “Actually, little dragons get to call me David.”
Mike returned, frowning. “I reserved their private room, but they gave it to someone else. All they have left is a booth.” He sighed and shrugged. “Service sucks here.”
“We’ll be waiting for hours anywhere else,” David added, still trying to decide if Billy’s ‘punk light’ was the expression of a confused inner child who was seeking attention, or a kid having fun.
Usually, he didn’t like punk. He’d taught too many students with facial tattoos, and earrings or studs through noses, eyebrows, and lips, but now he adored what he saw. Long dark hair, a tiny stud in the left ear lobe, razor-thin eyebrows, and dusky-plum eye shadow sent an erotic buzz through him.
He followed Mike towards the far corner of the restaurant, to the unoccupied booth next to the busy kitchen door, catching glimpses over his shoulder of Billy, who was right on his heels. He skirted a bustling waiter carrying a tray of plates, but Billy stumbled as he tried to get out of the way.
David scooped him up on the way down. Before he realized, he had one arm under Billy’s legs and the other around his shoulders and he was carrying a warm, trembling boy who was awfully close to crying.
“He tripped,” he explained to a somewhat amused Ling.
“I’m glad you have fast reflexes, Professor.”
“One needs fast reflexes with little boys,” David joked, giving Billy an unwarranted grin and a hug.
He cradled the boy, shamelessly soaking up his heat, basking in his smile, but feeling weak-kneed and a little embarrassed because Ling whispered something in Wang’s ear and it obviously concerned him.
“Don’t fall asleep on me,” he teased, bouncing Billy up and down.
He was certain he could feel the boy’s rapid heartbeat as he carried him the rest of the way to the booth, stealing glances at the boy’s very noticeable crotch, sexy thoughts ricocheting through his mind.
“Perhaps if we put him between us we can keep him awake,” Wang suggested with a gesture for David to sit.
David’s knowledge of Asian etiquette was enough to know that sitting next to one’s guest was expected, yet he couldn’t help thinking that putting Billy between them was part of the plan all along. However, he wasn’t about to complain. He slid into the booth, with Billy clinging to his neck, somehow managing to dislodge him so they could sit down. Immediately, Billy snuggled closer.
“I think I’ve made a friend,” David observed, looking down at a small dark head burrowing under his arm, wooly Mongolian lamb vest, a skinny arm intent on embracing his made-in-China grey leather jacket.
“More than a friend, I think,” Wang added with a mysterious smile. “Better a diamond with a flaw than a pebble without fault.”
“He’s not bothering you, is he?” Ling asked from across the table.
“Not at all.”
David gave up on deciphering the proverb and did the only thing he could. He draped an arm around Billy’s shoulders and hugged him. Innocently, Billy blinked up at him, fighting sleep, yet feeling shivery all over.
“He trusts you,” Wang observed.
David nodded, still looking down, not even noticing Mike’s pouting glare. Billy’s arms were bare to his shoulders, sexy slender arms with unblemished almond skin and utterly hairless, not even a trace of fuzz on his forearms. He licked his parched lips and somehow avoided looking farther down.
“Are you hungry, Professor,” Wang asked, no longer scanning the menu.
David’s head jerked up, suddenly realizing he’d been stroking Billy’s ear, the one with the stud. He had no idea how long he’d been doing it. As Wang delivered instructions to the kitchen staff, Ling gave him an approving smile.
“Would you mind taking off his jacket so he doesn’t spill food on it?” she asked sweetly.
David nearly jumped out of his seat. Completely oblivious to Mike’s mean glower, he unfastened six tiny claw clasps that secured the front of the vest. Underneath Mongolian lambskin was shimmering black satin and a sleepy-hot boy. David had never touched anything as delicate as that taut silky tee shirt, or maybe it was the lithe little body radiating its heat directly into him that made him dizzy.
His fingertips melted as he nervously parted the vest and lifted it off. Then, he feasted his eyes, barely able to stop himself from sighing. Of course, no American boy would ever wear a tee shirt like that. It was a translucent veil, revealing as much as concealing. Almost nonexistent breasts had nipples like pinpricks. He discerned prominent ribs, but not like a malnourished kid, a few skin-ripples at his waist, a tapering belly before it disappeared under the narrow waist of ebony black jeans. Then, there was that substantial bump between Billy’s slender, spaced-apart thighs, but it was the wrong shape for an erection.
He tried to pay attention as Wang asked how hot he liked his food, but Billy kept giggling and saying ‘extra hot.’ He wasn’t at all sure that his stomach could tolerate ‘extra hot,’ but he nodded anyway. Indigestion was a small price to pay. About then, he discovered he was still holding Billy’s vest, actually rubbing his fingers in the satin-silk lining, still feeling the boy’s residual warmth. He wanted to lift it to his nose and inhale, but common sense prevailed. He folded it carefully and placed it on the seat beside him.
“How old is he?” David mumbled. He had to say something. His alternative was to stare at the boy’s crotch, and he dared not do that.
“Old enough to be better behaved,” Ling replied, frowning at Billy who now rested his head on David’s chest.
“I don’t mind being a pillow,” David said quickly.
Mike reached for the teapot, keeping his head down as he muttered something he didn’t intend to be heard.
“What’s a professor of mathematics doing in the Department of Computer Science?” Wang asked.
“It’s a long story. Most of my current research is in an area called fuzzy logic. I use computers to do it.”
“You work with artificial intelligence?”
“It’s involved on the periphery.”
“Mike said you’re working on software to decrypt files,” Wang prompted. “I would have thought that would be top secret?”
Billy slipped his hand under David’s, palm up. David squeezed very gently. ”Some of what I do is classified. I have to be careful what Mike sees because he doesn’t have a security rating.”
He glanced down at Billy. Having the boy lean against him was very reassuring; enjoyable too. He felt like a father again. Absently, he stroked Billy’s hair until he realized they were watching him doing it.
“My kids are grown up,” he explained awkwardly.
“Xǐaopang is a very affectionate boy,” Ling replied. “I’m sure he doesn’t mind.”
The conversation meandered through life at Princeton, Szechwan shrimp and crab, world economics, Mongolian beef in orange sauce, and the complementary hot topic of global politics. Billy nibbled less than a spoonful of rice before he was sound asleep, his lambskin vest now covering his flank. The next round of platters arrived, honeyed pork strips and red mock-Peking duck.
“Honeyed pork is Xǐaopang’s favorite,” Ling said, scooping crinkly strips and golden sauce into her rice bowl.
“Should I wake him?” David asked hopefully.
He had to say something, even though he enjoyed having the little punk boy curled up against him, his head slumped on David’s thigh. Billy’s small hand cupped between his slender thighs, hiding the bulge that David was certain was still there. He decided that the boy had to be huge for his age.
“If you do, you may have to hand feed the dragon,” she snickered.
David woke him anyway, caressing the boy’s smooth forehead, running his fingers through sleek dark hair, tickling perfect tiny ears. Billy struggled awake, rubbing at bleary eyes, quickly lifting his hand from his crotch, and then smiling shyly when he saw what Ling was eating.
“You’d better take some for yourself, Professor,” Ling warned.
Billy muttered something in Mandarin.
“You must speak English. It is rude if your guests don’t understand,” Wang interrupted. “He needs to practice,” he explained to David.
“What did you say?” David asked in his least threatening voice, barely keeping his eyes from wandering downwards.
“I tell her you eat duck and leave pig for me,” Billy giggled, already reaching for the platter of honeyed pork. Still sleepy, he knocked the serving spoon onto the table, splattering sauce across the white tablecloth.
“Clumsy boy,” Mike growled.
Billy cowered like he’d been slapped
“Yaopung is sleepy. It’s not his fault,” David rebuked, instantly protective. It would be a long while before he went to dinner with Mike again.
“Xǐaopang,” Ling repeated.
“Can I put some in your bowl, Xǐaopang?” David asked, trying hard to get it right. His accent didn’t help.
Billy shook his head, sniffling, muttering Mandarin.
“Xǐaopang!” Wang snapped, more stern septuagenarian than grandfatherly.
On impulse, David used his chopsticks to pick up a small strip of honeyed pork from the side of the platter. He held it an inch in front of Billy’s mouth.
“Eat for me,” he whispered, touching Billy’s bare arm with his elbow. It made both of them quiver.
Billy gulped it, barely pausing to chew on the way down.
“Tastes good?” David asked, feeling very pleased with himself.
Billy nodded slightly. With a hand close to shaking, David spooned golden strips from the platter into his bowl. He selected another small strip with his chopsticks and carefully put it between Billy’s lips. This time, the boy chewed, but with his head down, still sniffling.
“I don’t mind hand-feeding a dragon when he’s tired,” David said, feeling increasingly like a father again.
Billy managed a giggle. He glanced quickly up at David, visibly avoiding Mike. Ling nodded at Wang.
It wasn’t like feeding a baby with a spoon and a bib to catch what escaped—it was an elegant ritual, bonding man and boy by sharing food morsels. Mike did his best to ignore them, but again and again he glared at Billy, driving in daggers.
David emptied his bowl and refilled it before Billy stopped eating. Then, he lay down again, his head back on David’s thigh, his legs curled up on the bench seat, his hand back to clasping his groin. David rearranged the vest over him, and the adult conversation resumed, focused on European politics.
They’d finished a platter of spicy chicken wings and moved on to the war in Afghanistan when Billy stirred. Suddenly, David tensed as Billy’s other hand crept onto his thigh. A moment later a small hand cupped his crotch, little fingers clasping his adult penis right through his jeans. He tried to tell himself that the boy was asleep, and yet he was certain that the pressure was too much to be anything other than deliberate.
He knew he should have gently but firmly relocated the straying hand. Instead, he rearranged the vest, covering Billy’s bare arm, and his straying hand.
“… There is no chance of an American victory,” Wang continued. “Afghani rebels fight like Genghis Khan. It’s in their blood.”
David agreed with a nod, disbelieving that Billy’s thumb was now stroking his penis. It was already bigger. Another few seconds and he’d have a raging erection.
“I agree, but there isn’t much of a choice,” David muttered, silently willing Billy to relocate his thumb just a little bit higher. “Not because of the Taliban… Strategically.. Um... it makes a great deal of sense...”
Wang gestured for him to continue.
“From Pakistan to the Middle East is Muslim,” David explained, arranging sauce bowls on the table in an approximate crescent as he named five countries. There was momentary relief in his crotch as Billy’s hand relaxed. Awkwardly, he pushed Afghanistan and Iraq out of line.
“Divide and conquer?” Wang queried. “You think it’s that simple?”
“I don’t think the plan was ever to conquer,” David said after a moment. Billy’s hand was back, pressing his penis sideways.
“I think Bush was stupid,” Mike interjected.
“That’s certainly one explanation,” David said. “If stupidity is an option, it requires the fewest assumptions.”
“Occam’s Razor is a convenience, not the truth,” Wang remarked.
Flustered in ignorance, Mike kept his head down.
“My bet is Bush was well-intentioned. He planned to liberate the women. Achieve that and social change might follow,” David added.
Wang raised an interested eyebrow and touched his lips. At the same time, Billy touched the head of David’s hardening cock, a little thumb and finger squeezing through denim. David inhaled and let it out slowly. Billy squeezed again, right on the knob. It hardly seemed possible.
“You have an interesting perspective on politics, Professor,” Ling remarked.
“I think Muslim men keep their women in chadors for reasons that have nothing to do with them being seen by other men.”
Maybe Billy was dreaming, which was exciting to think about. Or maybe he didn’t realize that his head and his hand were in David’s lap, which left Wang as the intended recipient. It was all very strange.
”They are in the shadows and therefore of no consequence,” Wang agreed. “But out of the shadows a woman has power.” He inclined his head.
“Muslim men are no gift of nature,” Ling added. She seemed about to say more, but thought better of it.
“Never again, Ling,” Wang said very quietly. He turned to David. “Last year, I entertained a Saudi oil sheik on my yacht. Charming on the outside, but under his fancy robes, you can’t imagine a more disagreeable person.”
David’s curiosity got the better of him. “What happened?”
Wang shook his head. “It’s a long drive back to New York,” he said, turning his chopsticks outward.
As if on cue, Billy’s thumb scratched at David’s jeans, and then paused as if waiting for encouragement, or permission. David moved the hot little hand away and breathed deeply, hoping his erection would subside before he had to stand up.
“Professor Ryder, I have greatly enjoyed our discussions,” Wang began. “I would like to invite you to my yacht for the weekend.”
“I’m afraid I’m not much of a sailor,” David muttered, doing his best to seem hesitant, while he desperately wanted to see Billy again.
“Neither am I, so we can eat, drink, and talk,” Wang agreed pleasantly, getting to his feet. “The Azure Dragon is in New York until tomorrow. I’ll send my car back for you after lunch.”
David was more interested in whether Billy was feigning sleep. Had he just agreed with a nod?
“We will arrive in Annapolis on Sunday morning, and then bring you back here.”
“Carry me,” Billy murmured.
Before anyone could tell Billy to walk, David picked him up, resting the small sleepy head on his shoulder, clasping the slim body against his as he eased out of the booth.
They were near the entrance door when Wang declared, “My driver will call for you at 10:00am.”
It sounded as if it had been decided all along. David was about to say he had other plans, but Billy’s foot suddenly wriggled against his crotch.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he whispered.
Billy didn’t say a word, but his foot remained where it was. The pressure was so deliberate that David was certain he was only pretending to be asleep.
“Perhaps our little dragon should spend the night with you, Professor Ryder,” Ling teased, tagging behind as David carried the boy out to the limousine waiting at the curb.
“You might not get him back again,” he joked over his shoulder. He couldn’t help thinking that she’d had to have seen her son’s foot. She was looking right at it.
“Do you want to adopt him?” she teased.
“I’d adopt him in a flash,” David said before he could stop himself.
“Or the next best thing,” she laughed strangely.
The limousine stopped at the end of a very long ramp. Two crewmen attired in pressed white trousers and jackets hurried up. One man opened the car door, offering a perfunctory but respectful nod as David Ryder alighted.
“Good afternoon, Professor Ryder. I am Chu, captain of Mr. Wang’s yacht, the Azure Dragon. He asked me to apologize; an urgent phone call to Seattle. He will meet you onboard.”
The other man opened the trunk and removed David’s suitcase as the captain led the way down the ramp to the outer jetty of the marina and two dozen luxury yachts of the rich and famous, all owned by offshore corporations, all hailing from exotic ports outside the US. . The Azure Dragon was a 100-foot impeccably white yacht with large obsidian windows, bristling with antennae and brightly polished metal, and colorful nautical flags. From the windows and portholes, it looked like it had three levels.
“This is the main salon,” Chu announced, closing the door behind David. “Mr. Wang will be here in a minute.”
The salon was as large as Princeton’s Department of Computer Science’s conference room, but that was the extent of the resemblance. The style was European modern, nautical Phillipe Starck with an abundance of white marble and dark mahogany. Huge sofas covered with pale floral fabric added wit and charm to serious minimalism.
“I’ll be finished shortly, Professor” Ling called, glancing up from her laptop.
“Can I ask, why the Azure Dragon? There’s no blue anywhere; except the name, of course.”
“That depends on where you look,” Ling replied.
David watched a crewman attach strings of Christmas lights on the adjacent yacht, a sparkling behemoth flying the flag of a banana republic in Central America.
“G’day mate,” Wang said from behind him.
David turned. “G’day, Mr. Wang.”
Wang had a smile to match. “I’m humoring Billy. He bet me a dollar I wouldn’t say it.”
Billy’s head popped up from behind a sofa. “You weren’t supposed to tell him!”
“G’day mate.” David grinned at him, adding a friendly ‘thumb’s up’.
Billy beamed back, seeming lost for words, but very wide awake. With a single glance, David was sure they could communicate by eyes alone. He barely heard Wang and Ling.
“He wants to keep Jerry longer?” Ling asked quietly.
Wang shrugged. “I’m not surprised. Time is a waterfall when a man is besotted. I told him I would decide and call him back after dinner.” He turned to David. “Welcome aboard, Professor.”
“You have a beautiful boat… yacht,” David said.
“Master Wang have three Azure Dragons,” Billy squeaked.
“I have a noisy mouse problem,” Wang said, pretending to scowl. “I’m selling this one, or trying to.”
“Are the boats all in such good company?” David gestured at the crowded dock. Only a few yachts were larger than the Azure Dragon.
“They’re here for the holidays. After New Year’s Day, they head to the Caribbean.”
“The Azure Dragon III is already in Saint Lucia,” Ling added.
“That’s where I want to be,” Billy giggled.
“You don’t even know where it is,” Ling teased.
“That one belongs to a Goldman Sachs’ partner,” Wang continued, nodding to the adjacent mega-yacht. “Paid for by American taxpayers.”
“Do you live onboard?” Ryder glanced at Billy, still giggling behind the sofa. He could see slender bare shoulders, and couldn’t help wondering if the boy had on clothes.
“Ling does, between the Azure Dragon III and my other yacht on the west coast. Regrettably, I spend most of my time travelling,” Wang said.
“I wouldn’t mind living on a boat if it was like this.” Ryder taxed his peripheral vision until he finally turned.
Wang followed David’s gaze. “Xǐaopang!” He pointed at the stairs.
Suddenly, an almost naked Billy scampered from behind the sofa and bolted barefoot down the stairs. He was wearing miniscule briefs, nothing else. The cloth, what little there was of it, was skin-tight and shiny, the same as satin. Like the bottom of a girl’s bikini, thin straps connected two tiny white triangles, each embroidered with little blue swirls, each with an exaggerated tuck down the center. The tuck in the rear cleaved Billy’s buttocks, revealing round cheeks and a delectable little crack. The tuck in front would’ve enhanced a girl’s cleft, but it obscured Billy’s boy-parts so he looked almost sexless.
“There’s a reason why we’ve called him Little Fatty since the day he was born!” Ling said with exasperation.
It sounded like Billy didn’t have much to begin with. The funny thing was there was no sign of the prominent bulge he’d had at the restaurant. At that point, David wasn’t sure about anything. All he could think of was the boy was unreservedly gorgeous, absolutely perfect, incomparably beautiful….
“I’d say he’s definitely ready for the Caribbean,” David joked.
Wang’s shrewd smile left him thinking that nearly naked boys weren’t unusual on the Azure Dragon.
“The next yacht belongs to a Saudi prince. I’m told he keeps a harem of teenage girls on board, supposedly his daughters,” he continued.
Billy’s skimpy attire was unsettling enough, but right before he disappeared down the stairs, he turned around, pouting with his hands on his hips, doing a sexy model pose. David gaped just as he was supposed to. Now, there was a bulge, but not nearly as prominent as at the restaurant. He was certain Billy had an erection under the tuck, a trifling ridge pointing at his belly button—parallel tucks would have shown it perfectly.
“And that one is Jimmy Buffet’s.” Wang pointed at a pirate flag fluttering farther down the dock.
“It looks like a party boat,” David jibed, trying hard to refocus.
“They are all party boats, but none bring as much happiness as the Azure Dragon.”
“Does he always go around dressed like that?” David said, still shaken, still wondering why Billy was nearly naked on a chilly winter’s day..
Wang smiled ambiguously. “Flowers are both yin and yang, but all are beautiful in the right vase.”
“That explains it.”
Ling laughed sweetly. “Xǐaopang is a beautiful boy with a beautiful body. You want him to hide it?”
David managed a disinterested shrug, assuming the façade of the dull academic while his mind raced ahead with his heart.
‘Beautiful boy’, ‘beautiful body’, ‘you want him to hide it.’ No American mother said things like that.
“I’m open-minded about most things,” he mumbled.
He couldn’t stop thinking that Billy’s bikini was intended to arouse him. He’d never seen anything so obscene. He breathed in deeply. The patter of little bare feet was long gone, but he was still awed. Billy’s small, round bottom was unforgettable, and his slender tawny thighs and little boy-bulge added to nature’s perfection in ways that made breathing out difficult.
Wang clapped David on the shoulder. “I’m looking forward to resuming our conversation from last night. A single conversation with a wise man is better than ten years of study,” he declared. “I’ve asked for dinner to be served while we talk American politics. Meanwhile, Ming Su has prepared some Asian delicacies for us to enjoy.”
Delicacies and pre-dinner drinks lasted until the Azure Dragon cleared the harbor. Then, dinner began. The last thing David expected was 30 courses, each exquisite palm-sized dish accompanied by a description of quaint regional customs. Despite delicious food and enthralling conversation, David was more interested in Billy, who’d put on loose creamy cotton pants and a tee shirt. The little bulge was back, more prominent than ever. Maybe it was the way his pants gathered at the junction of limber thighs and lean belly. They revealed as much as they concealed, yet left gorgeous details for David to ponder. It was distracting, watching Billy rearranging the furniture when he wasn’t snacking.
No sooner than they’d finished dinner, Chu entered and whispered in Wang’s ear.
“We’ll be in international waters in fifteen minutes,” Wang explained. “I have a pressing business matter to attend to before my office closes in Los Angeles,” he added.
As soon as Wang left, Billy approached David with the determined expression of a boy on a mission.
“Play chess now?”
“Xǐaopang!” Ling exclaimed.
“David said he wants to watch a movie,” Mike asserted, searching though DVDs.
Ignoring Ling and Mike, four-foot-tall Billy grabbed for the man’s hand, hauling him from the sofa. “Chess!”
“It won’t take very long to whip his cute little butt,” David grinned, feeling honored, and then embarrassed for saying it.
He followed Billy to the glass doors overlooking the aft deck. A swathe of silvery foam stretched behind the Azure Dragon until the sea swallowed it up. In the distance, he could just make out New York’s serrated skyline, the dying sun lighting up fluffy clouds in the west, darkness already encroaching.
Billy took his hand, hauling him to a dwarf-cypress tree in a bright red bowl, its thin silvery branches like arthritic hands, each one holding a few grey-green needles and a brightly colored, geometrical egg. They were ornaments—dozens of them, each one different.
“You have an unusual Christmas tree,” David said.
Billy looked up at him. “They gift from Mr. Wang’s children. This one I make.” He proudly pointed at an egg. The star-pattern was precisely triangular, in red, blue, and purple, a glistening, spiraling transformation that must have taken him days to make.
“It’s beautiful,” David said, almost adding, ‘like you.’
“Each boy make egg with triangle. Girls use circle,” Billy explained, his hand shamelessly rubbing against his groin. He stopped as soon as David noticed.
“I thought boys had two eggs.”
Billy frowned and held up a finger. “One boy, one egg.”
“There aren’t many boys,” David observed. Most patterns used circles to create intricate overlapping shapes.
“Mr. Wang have more girls.” Billy tugged on his hand. “You like boys?” he demanded.
“Boys are more fun.”
Billy grinned and kept tugging, leading David across the salon. While David was engaged in dinner conversation, he’d constructed a makeshift fort, using three chairs to effectively block it off from the rest of the salon. A quilted cotton exercise mat and dragon-embroidered pillows purloined from the sofas completed the stronghold. In the center was a chessboard, intricate silver and gold pieces in ivory and ebony squares. It looked old and valuable.
“You like?” Billy asked, still holding David’s hand tightly.
David had nearly forgotten what it was like to have a young boy around. He dropped to his knees and crawled between the chairs, stretching out on the mat. Grinning mischievously, Billy lay down beside him.
“No see us, now,” he whispered.
David nodded, more than a little bit nervous. His heart galloped as he gazed at Billy, fascinated by feline grace. It was as if his every movement was carefully orchestrated to arouse desire. Gone were the creamy cotton pants, but David couldn’t remember when he’d changed them. Now, Billy’s pants were pastel-grey with little printed dragons, loose cargo pants not unlike the pants Aaron wore in David’s favorite photos. The resemblance was deliberate, however, David never suspected. Instead, he stared at the front. There were no buttons or zipper, just an untied cotton cord. And below was the same prominent little bulge, yet the longer David’s gaze lingered the less certain he was that the boy was sexually aroused. It didn’t stick out like an erection, and it wasn’t that large. When he looked again, he was sure it was limp, yet it was still very noticeable. Stiff or not, Billy’s crotch was so inviting it was all he could do not to reach out and touch it.
“You move first,” Billy insisted, stretching out.
David grinned at the implication that he was the inferior chess player. He got to checkmate in twelve moves, and then showed Billy how to avoid it. The next match took 15 moves, while the following game lasted a half-hour before Billy conceded defeat.
“You play good,” Billy said humbly.
He carefully replaced the pieces in a carved ebony box, closed the lid, and put it aside. He leaned against David, using him as a backrest. Then, he took David’s hand and compared them, palm to palm with fingers outstretched. The difference in size made both of them smile.
“David?” Mike called. He ambled across the salon and glared into the fort from above.
“Keep out Mike,” Billy said, looking up with a glare of his own.
With a red and black bandana tucked in a belt loop at his waist, and another bandana wrapped around his left upper arm, Billy looked roguish and sexy at the same time.
“Fan-tso boy,” Mike growled as he turned away.
“Mike like you,” Billy snickered. His emphasis was unmistakable.
“What’s fan-so mean?”
“Mr. Wang say, ‘add legs to the snake after you have finished drawing it.’”
David shrugged slightly, bothered by proverbs and a boy who was very grown-up for his age.
“Mike like you a lot,” Billy said again as he played with David’s fingers.
“I like you more.”
Billy nodded sagely. He pressed David’s fingers to his cheek, and caressed back and forth.
“You’re so soft,” David murmured, awed by genderless beauty.
Suddenly unable to control himself, his fingertips followed the boy’s jaw to his ear. He traced the delicate whorl, pushing hair out of the way, finally cupping his hand behind the boy’s thin neck. He breathed deeply, gazing into Billy’s big dark eyes, wanting only to press his lips against Billy’s mouth.
On instinct, Billy’s eyes closed and his lips puckered as he leaned closer. As his lips touched David’s cheek, he blew spit bubbles, making a loud ‘farting’ noise mixed up with giggles. A moment later, he jerked away, scrambling for the opening between the chairs. David caught him before he was out of reach. He hauled him back into the fort and tossed him onto the pile of pillows.
“Monkey man,” Billy mouthed with a mischievous smile.
“What?” David held him down, ready to tickle. All he needed was an excuse.
His eyes drifted south. He was certain the boy wasn’t aroused, but his sex was still very obvious. Maybe it was how his pants were cut at the crotch, or he was so skinny his private parts stood out more. David made himself look away.
“Monkey man,” Billy whispered, looking at him strangely. “Monkey man and dragon boy.”
“You make it sound like…” David searched for the word.
“We fit together,” Billy purred.
“We’re compatible.” David could feel it too, an inner glow every time they came close.
Billy nodded. He held out his hand, placing it against David’s hand so their fingers and thumbs aligned. “We fit, see.”
So different in size, but Billy’s hand fit so perfectly in David’s hand that both of them stared.
“I wonder what else fits?” David said slyly, wondering where Billy’s game would end.
“Join feet too,” Billy said very seriously.
Using the big toe of his left foot, he nudged off his right slipper. David had to undo his shoelace to take off his shoe and sock. Trembling, they joined their feet, sole to sole, bare toes wriggling like curious mice.
“Feet fit,” Billy giggled as if he hadn’t seen his little foot beside David’s. “What else fit?”
David shrugged, barely holding back giggles.
Suddenly, Billy lay back on the mat. He jerked up his tee-shirt, showing off his wiry little abdomen. He pointed at his navel.
“Name of this?”
“Belly button,” David said quietly as his gaze drifted down. Billy’s boyhood definitely stood out more than before. Perhaps it was on the way to erection. It certainly wasn’t oversized like a young teenager, just very noticeable.
“Belly button,” he repeated, only it was a whisper as if he knew he needed to be careful.
Sharing the secret with a smile, David gazed at tawny boy-flesh. Billy’s navel was a tiny innie on a very flat belly, a perfect skin whorl with a lip at the bottom. Lying like that, he was certain he could see the tip of the boy’s little penis poking out his loose cargo pants.
“See if belly button fit?” Billy murmured.
Hoping he wouldn’t die from a heart attack, David lay down quickly, already beyond worrying whether he was taking advantage of an uninhibited boy. He told himself it was all part of a game as he unfastened four shirt buttons and made an opening. Billy crouched over him, grinning as he touched his own navel, and then David’s, poking at it like there was air inside.
“Join belly buttons.” He grinned and climbed on top.
David barely had time to breathe before Billy lay down, pressing belly to belly, the top of his head fitting neatly under David’s chin.
“Belly button fit; whole body fit good,” Billy whispered furtively.
David just nodded.
For a moment, David wondered if the emphasis was his imagination.
Suddenly, Billy tugged at his pants, yanking cloth against his now obvious erection. “Itchy,” he giggled.
Then, he shifted lower and they were groin to groin, and it was obvious that the boy really did mean ‘everything.’ David could feel the boy’s very-hard penis through their clothing. He panicked. He flipped Billy onto his back and tickled little bare boy-feet, which seemed like the safe thing to do.
Like the rest of the Azure Dragon, the guest stateroom was delightful, even without any blue. It was the same Italia-modern style with curved dark mahogany walls contrasting with white marble, lush carpet, and virginal satin draperies that covered the windows. There were also plush draperies for the full-length mirror behind the bed, but once pulled back, made the cabin appear twice the size. It easily accommodated the bed, which was vast. The bedspread was ruffled white silk, with a woven wool rug draped across it. David wasn’t sure what it was there for, but it had black and grey stripes, with matching cushions, as if the designer suddenly decided there was too much white.
After romping with Billy, he was horny. He’d never been so excited, not even when he’d discovered the photos of Aaron having sex—he’d masturbated for most of the night looking at them. For the first time in his life, he was late to class the next morning. As powerful as those photos were, Billy sent an even more intense thrill through him. All evening, he’d suffered through an intense urge to be close to the boy, to hug him and stroke slim arms and legs.
In the privacy of the stateroom, his erection returned, though not quite as hard as while they were wrestling. Then, it was like a crowbar in his pants. Sheer stiffness as much as boy-giggles all but overwhelmed his self-control, yet no one seemed to care that he spent most of the evening playing with Billy. Perhaps it was luck that no one noticed; or he couldn’t thinking that they did and chose to say nothing, as if accepting that they’d bonded in some unfathomable way.
Unsuspecting, he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Pearly translucent marble and shadowy etched glass, lustrous ceramic surrounded him, most white with a slight pink hue. It made him think of Aaron’s delicate skin tones. What would Billy be like naked? Tawny dark all over, or with a creamy white middle like Aaron? His erection was so hard it throbbed.
Billy had certainly noticed the bulge between his thighs—he bumped it often, always making it seem accidental, yet always with the same cheeky smile. A few times, he even giggled for no reason at all. It was music to David’s ears. All the while, his dark eyes bored relentlessly into David’s, reaching into his soul to exchange unspoken delight and deep thoughts, which was extraordinary given the short time they were together.
As David got ready for bed, he couldn’t help smiling. The little boy had an erection to be proud of. It lasted right through their wrestling. It stayed like a proud little soldier throughout a fourth game of chess. Brazen cheating led to tickle torture, all but guaranteeing it wouldn’t go down. With glee, he stretched Billy out on the floor, and held him down with one hand. Like that, it was the most prominent part of the boy’s slim body. It was the most memorable part of the evening.
He was tickling armpits when it struck him that Billy’s penis wasn’t nearly as big as its prominence implied, two inches at most. It was fully hard, and it stuck straight out, as if demanding admiration. The funny thing was that Billy seemed used to it being that way. He certainly didn’t mind rubbing it against David’s body. It was almost as if… David put the thought aside—nine-year-old boys weren’t like that.
Under the sheet, with his laptop in front of him, he fondled himself as he read one of his favorite boy-love stories, over 300 pages of sexually explicit prose. Robbie was the protagonist, ten years old and gay as the proverbial goose. His hostess-mother arranged for him to have to three wealthy clients of his own, a Jew from Detroit, a Texas oilman, and a New York stock broker with a sexually precocious seven-year-old son a and sociable Weimaraner. Robbie came loaded with effeminate characteristics, a lot like a certain young Asian boy (coming soon to a Nifty bookstore near you.
Every few minutes, David looked up, taken aback by his cabin’s sheer opulence. He also had a distinct feeling that he wasn’t alone. It wasn’t disturbing enough that he needed to check under the bed, but the feeling was there all the same. Finally, he turned off his laptop, placed it on the night stand, and switched off the lights.
The bed was so large that if he stretched out a leg, the crisp sheets were cold. He was aware of a soft buzzing noise, barely heard over the faint hum from the ship’s massive engines. It seemed to come from behind the bed, where the crew’s cabin was. It was reassuring. At 10:35 pm, long after the Azure Dragon had entered international waters, he was sound asleep.
When he awoke again, there was a small boy silhouetted in the open door.
“I can’t sleep,” Billy whispered.
“You shouldn’t be here. Your mom…”
“She snore. Mr. Wang snore. Mike ick!”
“You want to get into bed with me?” David mumbled back, throwing caution to the wind. It was simply too good to be true.
Billy nodded, closing the door behind him. David thought he heard the lock click and smiled in the darkness. A moment later, Billy climbed onto the bed, on his knees and leaning over David, peering down.
“Do you want to wrestle some more?” Billy chirped, mischievously stroking David’s bristly cheek.
Presented like that, David wasn’t about to say he was tired, or that it was the middle of the night. “If you do.”
Without hesitation, Billy rolled up his tee shirt until it was under his chin and put his arms behind his head. David gazed long and hard. Utterly flawless, not even a freckle. Instinctively, he reached out and touched the boy’s bare belly. It was smooth, and warm, and sleek, and firm underneath. Gradually his hands slipped higher until he held Billy’s chest, his thumbs pressing into tiny nipples. The boy was scrawny, just skin, bone, and juvenile muscle.
“You feel so soft; nice and warm,” he muttered.
“You naked?” Billy giggled, tugging at the bedcovers.
“Um, kind of.” He had to say something so why not the truth.
“Not fair if I have clothes on,” Billy added unambiguously.
David heard a soft giggle and the rustle of clothing. He stared into the gloom, awe-struck as Billy pulled his tee shirt up and over his head.
“Now my pants,” Billy whispered, his voice trembling with excitement.
“Leave your underpants on,” David advised, even though it was the last thing he wanted to say.
“You know why!”
“What if I like naked too?”
David didn’t answer. He heard a zipper being opened, the rustle of pants coming off, a metallic click of a snap being unfastened, which made no sense at all.
“No underpants now,” Billy giggled.
Suddenly, the covers jerked back and Billy slid under. His little bare feet hit David in the knees.
“You hot,” Billy peeped.
“So are you.”
“I don’t like sleep alone,” Billy announced, cuddling into David’s side.
“It’s late; you need to go to sleep.”
“My cock is hard.” He rubbed it against David’s hip. It felt like molten iron sheathed in silk.
“Stop that, you little monkey!”
“You like when we wrestle,” Billy snickered, jabbing two very hard inches at David.
“Yes, but we both had clothes on then,” David countered like an adult was supposed to.
“We both naked now,” Billy giggled. “You have hard cock?”
In an instant, he clambered onto David, hot and velvety and almost no weight at all. David hugged him—it was impossible not to. Billy wriggled against him, draping his legs outside David’s thighs so the man’s huge hot genitals jammed against his, the thick cock stretching way past his bellybutton, his tiny balls squashed to the sides, his head on David’s chest. The heat was intense.
“Billy… please don’t,” David spluttered.
However, Billy kept wriggling his hips, moving them up and down and from side to side. David rubbed his sides and back, safe territory, he thought. But it wasn’t, nothing was safe. Billy’s little body melted under his caresses, his lithe back trembling as he explored the boy’s knobby spine and ribs, and a waist so narrow he surely could hold him with both hands.
“I’m the man,” Billy murmured, still humping his hard little cock alongside David’s.
“Yes, you are.”
David slipped his hands between them and rubbed where he thought Billy’s nipples would be. Billy sighed and stopped humping. He lifted up momentarily, felt between them, and then lowered down. Now, he pressed even harder onto the fat hard penis and moved from side to side, each breath slow and deep. David’s slimy excretion soon covered his belly, but he didn’t seem to mind. Side to side, then back to up and down, always slowly, deliberately rotating his hips, keeping their now- sweaty genitals in constant contact.
After a few desperate minutes, David peeled him away and tossed him across the bed. He loomed over the boy, pinning his shoulders with one hand, his other hand planted on the slender chest.
“Now I’m the man and it’s tickle time,” he declared in his most threatening voice.
In a flurry of arms and legs, man and boy fought for imaginary dominance. The wiry boy writhed and twisted and giggled as his 53-year-old bedmate struggled to get the upper hand, but somehow always succeeded in losing. With very little effort, Billy could toss him halfway across the bed. Of course, David came roaring back, only to have his attack soundly rebuffed. Finally, David flopped onto the bed, with Billy straddling him, his thick adult cock compressed under the boy’s bottom, the head and three inches of shaft protruding from under Billy’s stiff little penis.
“Okay, you win.”
Billy giggled. “Now, I get reward!”
“What do you want?”
“You have nice cock,” he whispered, undulating his balls against the man’s erection.
David gulped. He licked his lips. His heart pounded in his chest. He flipped the boy over and onto his back, pinning him to the mattress with one hand. He reached for boy-gonads, but stopped himself in time. Instead, he carefully straddled the giggling youngster.
“You’re a very sexy boy…”
“We fit everywhere .”
“Everywhere,” David repeated, fingering Billy’s navel.
“Your cock spit all over me.”
“I’m sorry… Do you want to wrestle some more?”
Billy pulled him down. In that first man-on-boy embrace, David felt awfully clumsy, afraid he’d break a rib, or worse. However, it was obvious that Billy enjoyed being pushed into the bed, hugging David so tightly that he couldn’t lift up without lifting him as well. In the darkness, David kept most of his weight on his elbows and knees and caressed Billy’s smooth skin, from his ticklish armpits down to his hips, breathing deeply.
“You’re so smooth,” he whispered.
“You feel so good,” Billy cooed, pushing up at David’s cock so there was no doubt what felt good.
“So do you.” He could just see Billy’s eyes glistening in the dark. “You’re really hot.”
He stroked back Billy’s hair, basking in his vibrant warmth, aching within, knowing he should send the boy back to his own cabin, but whenever he tried to say something it came out as a sigh. Gently, he eased Billy away, laying him out on the bed, face up. He got to his knees, glancing down between them. He couldn’t see anything as he slowly reached down, sliding his fingertips from Billy’s tummy down to his groin. He was certain Billy whispered ‘yes.’
He encountered the boy’s sturdy sex, standing short and proud, and hotter than anywhere else. Like the rest of him, it was smaller than an American boy, but he cupped his hand around the little penis and squeezed very gently. It was like holding a small quivering thumb, as hard as bone inside.
“Ohhh,” Billy breathed. He lifted up his hips, pushing his penis into David’s hand.
David’s fingers sought his balls, scooping up delicate skin and two tiny eggs along with the little boy-cock. He squeezed the way men were supposed to squeeze young boys, playfully teasing and making Billy’s undeveloped testicles scoot from one side to the other. He guided them back, one either side with his thumb looped around the unyielding shaft, and as gently as he could he pressed them back into the boy’s inguinal canals. He didn’t force them way-up inside, just far enough that it felt like the boy didn’t have any balls. All that was left was silky-soft folds of skin under his very stiff penis.
“He so small compared to your big cock,” Billy whispered, his penis flexing against David’s hand.
”Little boys are supposed to have little cocks.”
“Mine tiny like little finger.” He traced his little finger down David’s nose.
“You’re how old, exactly.”
“Ten in this many months.” Billy stuck his hand in front of David’s face.
“So you’ll grow a lot in the next few years. I think he’s perfect just the way he is.”
“Ling says most Chinese boys have little cocks,” Billy said seriously.
“That’s why yours fit so nicely with mine.”
“I’ve never seen one so big.” Without warning, Billy giggled. His hands closed around David’s cock. “Belong on horse.”
“You’re the monkey. I’m a dragon. It means we’re compatible.”
“Very compatible,” David agreed solemnly, unable to stop himself from straddling the boy again.
“That why everything fit good, David.”
David smiled down. This time, the emphasis was unmistakable. Everything felt so natural.
“We reversed. I have little monkey cock. You have big dragon cock,” the boy said softly.
David shivered at the boy’s awe. He flexed in the boy’s firm grasp.
Billy shifted back, sliding down the bed until his head was under David’s thighs, all the while holding David’s cock with both hands. Then, David felt smooth skin brush against his erection. He could barely make out Billy’s head, black hair against the stark white sheet. The softness of his cheek was unmistakable. A slight puff of warm air made him tremble inside. He sensed the boy’s nose was inhaling his man smell. It seemed so right that Billy would do that, just as he couldn’t resist stroking the boy’s sleek thighs. A playful kiss on the side of his penis followed, little fingers tugging at his balls. Then, Billy’s nose burrowed into his scrotum.
He sighed when Billy inhaled deeply. He thought he felt something wet and warm, then more of Billy’s intimate sniffing. It made his hear race as much as that remarkably strong thumb massaging around his anus.
“Billy,” he cautioned, feeling very awkward because he knew what the boy was going to do next, and it didn’t seem right.
Billy blew on his penis. David smiled and relaxed, all part of a little boy’s game. Then, Billy licked it, from the tip to about halfway before he smooched wetly. David couldn’t stop him. He groaned as the little mouth settled over the head of his cock, lips behind the rim, tongue trying to squeeze into his piss-slit. It felt like the boy had been sucking cock for years.
“You shave off hair because you like boys?” Billy remarked between licks.
“Um, yeah, I guess…”
Even then, it was still a game. If he didn’t already know, Billy quickly discovered that making popping sounds were not only fun, but it made David gasp. He did it again and again, always using his tongue to slather on saliva, a lot more saliva than was necessary to make the wet sucking sound. It was as if he knew that David liked it as wet as possible. Some drooled past his balls to slick up Billy’s thumb. It rubbed his pucker, the thumbnail scratching ever so lightly.
“You not ticklish like me.”
Then, David felt the tip poke at the opening. A slight increase in pressure and it slipped into his anus. He held his breath, telling himself it was a dream. Billy’s thumb wriggled, corkscrewing into the muscle. With just saliva from Billy’s mouth, he felt every twist and trun. David’s cock got even harder. The thumb went inside. Wildly erotic, completely unexpected, levering up and down. Then, Billy sucked hard, bobbing his head urgently, slurping over David’s cock. Just when he thought he was about to orgasm, Billy gave a parting spongy kiss on the end, pulled out his thumb, and nimbly wriggled back up the bed.
“Did you like?” he giggled.
With an awkward laugh, David rolled onto his back, pulling Billy with him. It didn’t seem possible that a nine-year-old boy would do what Billy had just done, not just licking and inhaling and sucking, but the thumb thing. He had gotten it all the way in too. It took David long seconds to get his breath back.
“It looks like you’re the man again.”
Billy pretended he wasn’t interested, even snoring. Suddenly, he lifted up and crawled higher until his erect penis was against David’s lower belly. He reached behind and placed David’s broad cock between his thighs, and then he closed his legs, clutching most of the shaft. David breathed deeply, still hesitant but too excited to stop.
He wrapped his arms around Billy and hugged him, gradually slipping his hands down the taut little back until he reached Billy’s bottom. There he stopped, fingering the very start of the boy’s buttocks, not daring to go farther. The flesh was firm and smooth, and soft, and the boy kept rotating his pelvis sending tantalizing thrills through him.
It was only a matter of time before he climaxed, yet it dragged on and on until the urgency passed. David was about to doze off when Billy began thrusting, clamping his thighs even tighter.
“Billy,” David warned.
“We shouldn’t. Please stop…”
But Billy didn’t stop. He kept moving his pelvis, up, down, up, down, both of them getting harder until David couldn’t resist any longer. His hands moved lower, the necessary couple of inches until he had a small round buttock in each hand. His fingers spread out, fingertips like talons, pulling the little boy onto him. He lasted only seconds until he relaxed and guided the boy back down again, pushing him against his unwavering cock.
“Go between,” Billy whispered.
David began to move with him, timing his upwards thrusts to Billy’s wriggling, guiding his bony hips with his hands. Up, down, up, down, both of them breathing in quick short gasps. There was slime on the end of his cock, a lot more of it smeared over Billy’s lean thighs.
In a rush of adrenalin, David repositioned his penis from rubbing between Billy’s thighs to rubbing between his buttocks. It was hotter there and his cock throbbed relentlessly as the boy’s pelvic motion exchanged going up and down for swiveling around the man’s cock. David helped him, holding the slender hips and adding more force, pressing the head of his cock deep into the furrow, driving the fat oozing head along the bottom of the crack. Billy’s moving became more urgent, mashing his genitals into the man’s hairy belly.
Within seconds, David’s copious flow of precum had lubricated the insides of both little cheeks and his penis could slide freely. If filled the entire length of Billy’s crack and then some. They panted together, getting faster, and then slowing down to relish the slippery heat that they’d created between them. David could feel his slime slathered over the boy’s buttocks, a lot of it smeared into the cleft.
“Go in,” Billy whispered.
David nodded obediently, pressing his helmet-head into the much smaller bud-like anus. It was like trying to fuck a belly button. He squeezed out more juice and anointed the puckered hole with religious devotion, massaging the flesh with fingers and cock. In almost no time at all, it opened wide enough to admit an adult finger. He was so excited he didn’t think it was strange. Instead, he pressed his finger into Billy very slowly. Before he realized his finger was in up to the first joint; then the second joint, then right up his knuckle. In a life-changing moment, he realized his entire finger was embedded in the sleek taut tube. Inside Billy. Not a single whimper, just breathy gasps from the boy lying on top of him. His finger burned with pleasure, the muscle surrounding it insistently squeezing.
“Is it hurting?” he muttered, carefully withdrawing his forefinger.
“It’ll hurt if we keep doing it. I need something to make you slippery.”
In an instant, Billy rolled off, and flitted across the cabin. He went from one cabinet to the next; giggling in the dark every time he reached inside. After opening four cabinets, he scurried back to the bed and launched himself onto David.
“Go in good with this,” he snickered in the dark, climbing back onto his man.
“What is it?”
Billy’s oily hand grasped his cock, rubbing up and down, spreading slipperiness from top to bottom. “Feel nice now,” he muttered, quickly lying down again.
The smell was strong. It reminded David of the oil he used in his electric wok when he cooked Szechwan pork with green peppers and cashews.
“We join now,” Billy whispered furtively.
He felt behind him. He clasped David’s penis and pointed it at his anus. David wondered if there was oil there as well because his cock slid away as soon as Billy pushed back at it.
“Let me do it, Sweetheart,” he whispered.
He hugged Billy against him with one arm and used his other hand to move his penis back and forth over Billy’s anus. With no experience of little boys except what he’d watched on illicit, mostly Russian videos, he did what came naturally to him. Billy’s anus relaxed after only a few seconds of gentle massage. The flesh was remarkably pliant, responding miraculously to the gentle pressure.
Billy couldn’t help giggling at David’s whispered admonition to ‘relax.’ At the same time, he concentrated on loosening the inner muscle. Unlike David, he wasn’t at all surprised when his anus stretched wide enough to allow David’s chunky cock to squeeze into him. It wasn’t really in, not yet, but both man and boy recognized the potential. Unable to stop himself, David wriggled his fat helmet-head into the cone-shaped depression, steadily making it bigger, even more elastic. Finally, Billy’s hole was big enough that the first half inch of David’s penis was going inside.
“You supposed to push in when it loose like this,” Billy mumbled over his shoulder.
“If you know so much, why don’t you take over?” David pretended to grumble.
Distantly, he realized he shouldn’t even try to penetrate a nine-year-old boy, but he was far past the point of stopping. Besides, it clearly wasn’t hurting Billy, not like he’d always imagined. So he kept trying, forcing the hole to stretch just a fraction larger than it already was. Time was on David’s side. After another minute, the hole was big enough that the head of his cock could go in right up to the rim.
“I think it’ll fit,” David said after he eased back for what he hoped was the last time.
“Push in now,” Billy instructed.
“Is it hurting?”
“Are you sure?”
Billy didn’t answer so he pushed in gently, a relentless slow pressure. The boy’s anus seemed to want to stretch even farther so David kept pushing, still very careful. All of a sudden, something gave way and David’s cock punched through the boy’s sphincter. He stopped pushing immediately. Billy gasped, got back his breath, and then squeezed on him, tightening up behind the head of his cock. A moment later, the pressure faded. Amazingly, Billy’s widespread thighs inched farther apart.
“Go in more,” Billy whispered.
Instinctively, David realized the worst was over. He still had over five inches left, but the head was the hardest part. He pressed on, cautiously working his cock into the little boy. When he was about halfway, he stopped.
“Are you crying?” he asked, realizing Billy was sniffling against his chest.
“I’m okay,” Billy sniveled.
“I’m sorry it’s so big.”
Billy lay very still, resting his head on David’s chest, trying not to whimper. Ling had told him that the burning would end only after David finished what he’d started. It went deeper, a fraction of an inch at a time. He could feel it getting bigger inside him, stretching his anus until he was certain the man’s penis was fully inside him, but when he reached back, there was still a handful left.
“Enough?” David whispered.
Billy nodded slightly. David eased away, withdrawing an inch before gently pressing forward again. He’d never fucked a boy before, but his instinct was strong—patient but firm was the only way. Still, he couldn’t help wondering if it was the boy’s first time.
“Ahhhh,” Billy gasped.
He wriggled on the end of the man’s thick cock. Now, it was inside him properly, forcing his buttocks apart, sending a sharp stab through his abdomen whenever he moved. Again, David paused, not pulling back even though he knew he should. With his insides bulging with cock, Billy twitched erratically, his toes curling in, little fists clenched. He was doing his best to relax and let it happen bit by bit, but it still hurt.
“You’re doing great,” David crooned, persistently pushing in each time that Billy’s body forced it out.
It took less than a minute before he could slide in without making the boy whimper. Almost as soon as David realized the little body had stopped resisting, Billy lifted up, releasing the big cock with a greasy slurp. He twisted onto his back, tugging David onto his side and pulling them closer. When they were ready, Billy hooked his legs over David’s thighs, reached down and guided the cock into his dilated anus.
“Go in,” he whispered, sounding brave even as he wiped tears from his cheeks.
David went in slowly, nearly three inches before he began gently fucking the little boy.
“Go deeper,” Billy panted, pushing back firmly.
It was then that David finally decided the boy wasn’t virgin. Strangely, it didn’t bother him. A reassuring calm settled over him. A moment later, Billy tucked his legs close to his chest. David curled around him, holding him immobile as he pushed in even farther than before.
“I’m inside you.”
“We make happy sounds now.”
“It’s good,” David sighed.
To prove the point, he squeezed in a bit more, going deeper than before. Billy whimpered softly.
He nodded and David obediently eased back. He reached for Billy’s penis, expecting to find it limp. If anything, it was even stiffer, which surprised him because according to pederast folklore, a boy usually lost his erection when a man’s penis went into him. He pressed in again, very slowly, feeling the still tight tube compress and relax, very aware of Billy’s growing discomfort. This time he stopped before the boy whimpered. While he waited, he fondled boy-cock, delighting in the excess skin sliding against the rigid core within.
Soon, Billy wet his lips and turned his head, meeting David halfway. It was a tender first kiss, and very short. David ended with a playful peck and a few quick, very short thrusts.
“I can’t believe I’m really fucking you,” he chuckled. “I keep thinking it’s a dream and I’ll wake up.”
“We join properly now,” Billy muttered, tightening ever so slightly, already testing himself.
David tried to convince himself it was instinct at work. He pressed in slowly and Billy relaxed before him, as if opening up inside. He felt privileged, incredibly happy, shaking erratically.
“We’re really joined together,” he panted.
Billy locked his rectum, grasping David’s thick cock, making both of them shudder.
With Billy’s face so close to his, it was impossible to avoid what followed. David needed to kiss him, to prove to himself it wasn’t just sex but something much more. Their tongues embraced, the little boy accepting his passive role in that way as well. David’s penis and tongue possessed him completely. For a long while, neither moved.
The urge to fuck came out of nowhere, but it had been there all along, from the very first moment their eyes met. From underneath, David’s thighs strained, his butt pulling in as he pushed, back and belly muscles working in tandem, sending his cock surging into Billy’s bowels. At the same time, his tongue filled Billy’s mouth. He eased back, took a deep breath, and very slowly did it again, pushing his tongue forward. As hard as he thrust, the boy should’ve wailed. Instead, he whimpered and tried to push back.
It was during one of those long wet kisses that David became aware of an eerie blue light filling the cabin. It changed slowly to an orange glow from under the bed, and then an ethereal white halo surrounding it.
Billy giggled and held out a remote with blue, yellow, and white buttons. There were other buttons for reading lamps and entertainment, although the main entertainment was in the middle of the bed.
“I see your face now,” he whispered, exchanging the white halo for a yellow glow from the reading lamps behind the bed.
David nodded and went back to fucking, carefully stabbing his manhood into the little rectum. Billy’s whimpers were long gone. Now, he inhaled deeply whenever David pushed too hard. He was still tight where David’s cock penetrated, but he was noticeably looser inside. That sent a thrill through David, so strong that he had to stop moving to avoid ejaculating. While he waited for the urge to fade, he sucked on Billy’s bony bare shoulder, leaving his lover’s mark without thinking.
“You feel so good.”
Billy giggled and squeezed from inside. David groaned, cautiously resuming his thrusting. When he tried to look down to see his cock going in and out, Billy pulled him back for another long kiss, all tongue with lots of saliva. Their eyes met, both breathing heavily. Love and lust simultaneously welled up inside both of them. It still didn’t seem possible, not with a boy who didn’t come up to his chest, but David was past caring. He recognized the moment, life-changing contentment merely by gazing into the boy’s dark eyes while making love to him. Now that the pain had faded, it was no different for Billy. If this was compatibility, he wanted more of it.
David fucked as gently as any man has ever fucked a boy, using his cock sparingly, never farther than an inch at a time, feeling his partner’s pleasure increase being far more important to him than making the long deep strokes that he needed. Their passion came in waves, each stronger than the last. Billy grew hotter and hotter, a clammy, shivery boy clutching at his man. His rectum began sucking on David’s cock and they giggled together. Once David withdrew completely to see what it looked like, but Billy held him close, shaking his head until he reinserted, slipping easily inside the now gaping hole.
David lay half-over him, still kissing, entranced by Billy’s sweet mouth, his playful tongue and copious saliva, lovingly fucking his bottom. Usually, he was too deep or too shallow, but those few times when he came close to the target, Billy writhed underneath him. When he touched the right places, Billy shuddered uncontrollably.
“Harder! Do it harder, David,” Billy suddenly implored.
David allowed himself a little more effort, pushing deeper inside Billy’s bowels before pulling back, now moving two inches or more. Again, he tried to look down—it sounded succulent, but when he tried to see, Billy’s lips locked onto his. Suddenly, he realized his cock was deeper than he’d ever intended to go.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“It’s good,” Billy whispered back. And he tightened inside again, deliberately squeezing on David’s thick shaft.
At first, the little boy’s body had fit like a very tight glove—each time he thrust, Billy moved with him; but now there was a lot more room beyond the boy’s sphincter. It was loose enough that David’s cock slid freely, the slippery film of oil supplementing bodily juices.
When Billy finally stopped squeezing, he penetrated a little deeper, allowing himself to get even closer to a man’s ultimate pleasure. He thought he was safe until Billy squeezed on him again, a half-dozen times in rapid succession and his orgasm crashed down on him like a steam locomotive. The grasping heat within Billy’s rectum overpowered restraint. Clutching the boy’s straining sex, he thrust deep inside the shuddering little abdomen as his seed spurted out, five painful busts before it slowed to a dribble. It was far more than usual—he could feel it, hot and oozing around his cock. He forced some of it though the imperfect seal as he gave a few tired jerks, trying to keep his cock hard. He clutched the boy to him, shaking and fearful, but incredibly happy. He wished he could see Billy’s face, but he’d turned off the reading lights.
“Go bathroom,” Billy said softly, carefully easing away from David’s embrace, effortlessly withdrawing the man’s now softened cock. “You stay.”
Before David could speak, Billy was gone, a shadow creeping through the dark cabin. Immediately, David worried that he was bleeding. Right at the end, he’d gone in a long way, perhaps all the way, thrusting hard as well. So deep and hard, it seemed impossible that a boy could walk afterwards.
He lay back, wiping slimy semen from his cock before pulling the sheet over his nakedness, conflicted more than ever before. He’d experienced unbelievable joy with the little boy, but how much had Billy enjoyed it? Not for the first time, he wondered whether little boys really could achieve anal orgasms. There were plenty of stories on Nifty that said they did, but fiction was fiction. Despite all of Billy’s groaning, he was certain the boy hadn’t had one.
“Are you okay?” he called out.
“I’m pissing,” Billy giggled.
“I love you, Little Dragon,” David whispered, smiling to himself.
A moment later, Billy scampered back. He bounced on the bed, tugging the sheet back and clambering over David. He flattened his bare body against the man, tucking his head under David’s chin, his toes near the man’s knees. David hugged him, one arm around his back, his other hand cupping a firm little boy-butt, basking in warm, soft skin.
“Are you sleepy yet?”
Billy shook his long hair in David’s face. It was so dark, he couldn’t see Billy’s nose.
“You’re still hard,” David observed.
Bill nodded, swirling silky locks. Playfully, he poked his erection into the man’s belly button.
“Now what do you want to do?” David murmured.
“I like wrestling, but I like this more,” David cooed, fondling little buttocks, curiously investigating the cleft with his finger.
It was hot and slippery on the insides of Billy’s cheeks. As Billy kissed all over his chest, he rubbed in what was left of his semen, slipping his slimy fingers underneath to fondle Billy’s sex organs, massaging small testicles and a stiff stubby penis. When it started to feel dry, he returned to the boy’s crack, scooping up more excretion, rubbing it over his butt and inner thighs.
Billy wriggled against him, making a hickey on David’s neck. He wriggled higher and licked David’s lips. When David tried to kiss back, Billy lifted up, holding David’s head down.
“I kiss. You get strength back,” he giggled.
He licked David’s face, tickling with his tongue, spreading his saliva from forehead to chin, like an affectionate puppy without the dog smell. David’s mind raced. He loved being licked, the intimacy of it unlike anything he’d ever experienced; his eyelids, his ears, back to his lips again and again. Dreamily, he pushed his finger into the lush heat, making Billy stop for a moment. Remembering what he’d researched about prostate glands, he pressed down towards the boy’s belly. It made Billy gasp and tremble against him.
David explored the little rectum, fascinated by how much room there was behind the muscular band—no wonder his cock felt so good in there. It was tight from his knuckle to the second joint, but from the second joint to his fingertip, it felt mushy, almost like jelly. Again, he pressed into Billy’s prostate, like a pea buried at the root of his cock. David vibrated his finger against it, diddling, strumming, making Billy tense up. Instantly, the rectal walls became firm and sleek. Even the slightest pressure near his juvenile gland made him shudder.
Moving his finger in and out produced a different response. Billy moved his pelvis the same way, lifting up and pushing down, fucking himself as he drooled on David’s face. If he curled his finger down and pushed hard, Billy bucked, shaking all over. David filed it for next time, and pulled out his finger.
Ready for fun, Billy licked up David’s nose, leaving a trail of saliva all the way to his forehead, blowing raspberries before he scooted out of reach. He perched over David’s hips, rubbing the sticky man-cock under his bottom. David could barely make out his head, but he was certain the boy was grinning. He stretched out, completely seduced as Billy leaned down. Billy’s delicate tongue was like a fluttering butterfly, dancing all over David’s chest. If he hadn’t just climaxed he would have quickly emptied his balls. Just before Billy covered his belly in spit, he clasped the shaggy small head. It was all he could do not to guide him onto his cock in preparation for his orgasm. Instead, he kissed the boy on his nose.
“That was nice.”
“Now you lick me,” Billy insisted, assuming the prone position.
Despite the stories David had read and written, he’d never known real pleasure, not until he licked Billy’s bare body. He worshipped Billy’s tender ticklish armpits, bathing them with saliva. He progressed to his neck and elicited more giggles, and like Sherman’s march through the South, slurped across his slender brown chest. By feel alone, he skirmished with a few playful nips on Braille-dot nipples, and advanced onto Billy’s tummy, where he particular attention to his navel. After drooling spit in it, he slicked up the boy’s lower belly, right down to the start of his pubis. Feinting right and hungry for smooth slender thigh, he licked down to the knee. Then, with no complaint from the boy underneath, he licked the other thigh, skipping the important stuff in the middle.
“David, you miss something,” Billy finally grumbled.
He arched up his pelvis, trying to get David to lick his undersized yet very stiff cock. David finally stopped at his feet, deciding boy-toes were as tasty as French fries. He gorged, a true connoisseur, preferring big toes, but the little ones were delicious too.
“You taste good,” David said, wiping spit from his lips.
“Now suck cock,” Billy ordered amid giggles.
With the flexibility of a Chinese boy-gymnast, he planted his feet together and opened his thighs until his knees were flat on the bed, offering himself. Obediently, David leaned in for that first unforgettable lick. He couldn’t see anything in the darkness, but before his tongue made contact, Billy’s scent made him quiver. He inhaled deeply, trying to get past the sex smell. Cloves, he decided, and raw musk. He’d never smelled it before, but he knew what it was. It made him erect. He licked Billy’s stiff dick from top to bottom, shaking from the sheer thrill of it.
“Do more,” Billy purred.
“It feels nice?”
“Spit stop itch.”
It was warm, and soft, and hard, and the taste brought memories rushing from his childhood. It was hot, sweet like the rest of Billy’s naked body, and something else that tingled his tongue and made him keep licking even when his mouth was dry.
David heard Billy’s soft whimper of delight, but couldn’t believe that he’d produced it. He licked again.
“Yesss,” Billy hissed.
David got the message and suckled on tiny boy-balls, feeling them dance and wiggle before his tongue, delighting in Billy’s hard hot sex throbbing under his cheek.
He grinned and pressed both tiny testicles between his lips, disbelieving that skin could be so delicate. ‘He’s only nine,’ he kept telling himself, but he couldn’t stop. He sucked on the small scrotum, wondering if it were possible to make a hickey there, discovering that getting Billy’s testicles behind his teeth was even more fun than licking them. Immediately, he heard Billy’s sharp intake of breath, followed by a deep satisfied sigh. He sucked and licked and pulled the skin taut. The trusting boy lay very still, breathing deeply, mutely absorbing every sensation, or maybe he’d fallen asleep.
“Do pee-pee now.”
So much for Billy being asleep. He couldn’t see anything, just Billy’s small dark form, a silhouette stretched out on the sheet. He closed his eyes and went to work on Billy’s short stiff cock.
“Ahhh….” Billy sighed, much louder.
He held David’s head, making feral sounds of delight, whiny and writhing as David concaved his cheeks, pursed his lips, and sucked cock as hard as he could. Billy’s penis wasn’t even close to a mouthful, but it was hot and unyielding, still sweet despite being soaked with saliva. He swirled his tongue over the tip, a tiny swollen bulb with the skin pushed right back. Not surprisingly, the boy trembled mightily and jerked back. A moment later, he pushed in all the way, stabbing through David’s compressed lips.
“Uhhhhahhhhhohhhhh,” Billy groaned, his little penis throbbing, straining outward and upward.
David smiled around the undersized cock. He opened wide, and guided Billy’s balls through his lips again. Everything ‘boy’ was inside his mouth. Billy bucked hard; then groaning, he bucked again. He felt Billy’s penis quiver four times, desperate to squirt. How often had he read about boys doing just that? Immediately, he realized that although theory and practice were worlds apart, little boys really could have dry orgasms.
Fifty-three years old and completely infatuated, uncovering desires he’d concealed for so long; words couldn’t describe his excitement at that point, his entire life meaningless because of a lusty nine-year-old boy. He kept sucking, not at all sure if he should stop. Then, Billy groaned even louder under him, still humping urgently.
“Little fatty; they sure named you right,” David muttered when he needed to breath.
Billy’s cock was small but plump. Short and thick, it was slightly curved and completely inflexible; the sort of cock a man could suck all day and never get tired.
Billy giggled. “More.” He tapped David’s nose with his indefatigable dick.
“I’ve created a monster.”
David licked his lips, still tasting freshness. He’d dreamed of having sex with a boy for as far back as he could remember. The reality of it was overpowering, far better than he’d ever imagined.
”What’s it worth?” he teased.
“Fuck again,” Billy said brightly.
David hadn’t expected that. An hour ago, he would’ve been shocked. Now, he needed a repeat performance just to stay sane. He wondered if he’d survive the night as he lay his head on Billy’s thigh, puckering up to kiss his penis. It was like a toy as it bounced against his nose, a spoiled child persistently demanding more. He slipped his lips over it, pushing down loose foreskin, again exposing the delicate knob to his marauding tongue. Again, Billy lay perfectly still, barely breathing, absorbing sensations that most boys didn’t experience until they were much older.
For the first time in his life, David Ryder was content. He fingered Billy’s perfectly smooth balls, stretching the miniature pouch, turning wrinkles into delicate folds. Then, tilting his head, he smooched, again sucking in skin and eggs and minute coiling tubes, and nuzzling his cheek against the pint-sized erection. Billy sighed loudly, and David sucked harder. His heart was thumping before he stopped.
He licked again, his tongue massaging the little nuts. “You’re delicious,” he murmured, nurturing the boy’s self-esteem.
He breathed deeply, considering what to do next. Of course, there was only one thing he could do. Every man who loved boys did it sooner or later, but the idea still took some getting used to. He crawled down the bed, lifted up Billy’s legs, and folded them against his chest, who promptly responded by wrapping his arms behind his knees and pulling back, elevating his bottom. Lovingly, David trailed his fingers into the boy’s slimy crack, wondering if he would dare do it if the lights were on and he could actually see the boy’s anus.
In the darkness, instinct was overpowering. Up close, the sex smell was strong. It wasn’t a bad smell; if anything it made him inhale deeply. He thought of his wife. She smelled like the anchovies that he always ordered on pizza. Billy smelled like fresh dough and faintly of coconut. He smiled at himself as he cautiously extended his tongue into the gap between Billy’s buttocks.
After one deep lick, he came up for air, and promptly returned to lovingly lapping at Billy’s already moist hole. It was still dilated, not gaping open like he expected, but soft and spongy and incapable of stopping his tongue from poking inside. Billy puffed in short wriggly gasps, tugging on his head and all but tearing out hair. David tasted where his cock had been, and decided it was okay. Better than okay. He tasted something unexpected, nutty and smoky at the same time. Sesame oil was better suited to stir-frying than lubricating boy-ass, yet he would never taste it and not remember. And there were little morsels of mucus. That had to come from inside Billy, a disturbing thought but the flavor made up for it.
Then, Billy groaned again, and it aroused him powerfully. Instantly, he forced in his tongue as deep as it could go, smothering his face between Billy’s buttocks as he sought more. Billy arched up, thighs straining. Finally, David tasted his semen. He licked around the hole until the little boy purred contentment.
“My favorite pussy,” he whispered, finally drawing away
Billy giggled in the darkness. “Girl hole is pussy. Boy hole is tuzki.”
“Tuzki,” David imitated.
“It mean funny rabbit. How you say in comic book?”
“Peter Cottontail? Roger Rabbit? B’rer Rabbit? Bugs Bunny?”
Billy nodded mischievously. “Boy bunny!”
David grinned. “I love your boy-bunny… tuzki.”
“Go in boy-bunny now.”
Billy’s little hand sought David’s huge cock, wrapping around it and making it even harder as he rubbed up and down, relentlessly squeezing. David was quickly back in position, lifting Billy’s bottom higher as he guided his erection down and back into him. This time the boy’s anus was ready for him, accepting his swollen head as if nature had always intended it for copulation. He paused just before he breached the rim, the anus stretched tight around his fat glans, but not like before. Billy clung to his arm, drawing him forward, the little bunny-hole tensing and relaxing, obviously wanting his penis inside him.
Suddenly, ethereal neon-blue light surrounded the bed, turning both of them into natives against the brilliant white sheet. Billy gazed up at him with a mysterious smile, both hands holding David’s head, pulling him closer.
“Go in far,” he whispered, just a moment before their lips met.
With considerable contortion, David entered his mouth and rectum at the same time. Instead of pushing out like the previous penetration, Billy seemed to be pulling him in, drawing him deeper, almost sucking David’s cock inside. His flared helmet slipped past the boy’s sphincter remarkably easily. He stopped with the rim just past the muscle, clamped securely, yet reassuringly comfortable for both of them. There was no sensation that came close. He sighed, luxuriating in Billy’s hot squeezing grip, just the knob and a bit of his shaft embedded, but it was more than enough.
More than heat flowed between them. Something akin to electrical energy rushed through David’s cock, making it so stiff that nothing could stop him from surging as deep as he dared. He pushed firmly, holding the boy’s shoulders securely as he shoved through. In seconds, he filled Billy with his tongue and cock. Then, he paused, absolutely devoted. It struck him that Billy’s slim body fit him perfectly.
“You feel like a glove,” David cooed, a glove that he never wanted to take off.
Billy gazed up, dark liquid eyes wide, lips pulled back to reveal startlingly white teeth. He was smiling, but not in a way that David could recognize. Trembling spasms began where David’s cock entered, traveling down his thick shaft, spreading out as a warm invigorating glow, and then down his spine. With the same enigmatic smile, he pulled the man lower and sucked on his tongue.
“So good,” David breathed when they parted. Then, Billy relaxed, giving him a little room to move, only for a few seconds before tightening deliberately. “Oh yeah.”
“You like boy ass,” Billy snickered, increasing the pressure.
Even without squeezing, he was tight, but not like the first time.
“My beautiful bunny-boy… Tuzki…” Just saying it made David want to ejaculate.
“Good for you too?” Billy inquired, still with the same puzzling smile.
“Yeah, real good. I think I’m starting to like boy ass.”
He began to thrust slowly, very gently at first, and then harder, finally thumping his groin at Billy’s quivering bottom. Somehow, David got his tongue back into Billy’s sweet mouth, mostly by rolling the boy up like a pillow as he forced in his cock, barely realizing that Billy’s ankles bounced against his ears.
Plugged at both ends, Billy hugged him, huffing and sniveling as the man fucked the remaining maleness out of him. David could feel it happening too, at first acquiescence; then, a desperate need to join their bodies together as Billy’s sphincter loosened completely. Both breathless and poorly positioned, they eventually had to stop kissing. By then, the little lithe body embraced his cock like it belonged inside. They progressed from barely moving, to rocking pelvises, to frenzied stabs way up inside Billy’s abdomen before slowing down again. Finally, they united in a thrilling surge, the shuddering boy’s bowels wantonly relaxing as David thrust in, tightening when he paused, clamping down and stretching out his cock when he pulled back. And all the while, Billy uttered soft sighs, mewling and trembling as it became even slicker inside him.
Despite feeling light-headed, David still managed to focus on Billy’s pleasure more than his own. Attuned to the boy’s murmurs and moans, he aimed for Billy’s most sensitive spot, hitting it as often as possible. The result was even better than he expected.
“Uhh-uh,” Billy grunted.
He gasped when David bounced against him, yet he wanted it harder. Each thrust made him shudder, one after the other, again and again. The pressure grew inside him, taking over until he was delirious with pleasure, sometimes shaking his head, sometimes nodding.
Once, David grabbed his hands and held them back above his head as if forcing him to submit. It wasn’t long after that, less than a minute before Billy groaned and writhed on his cock. This time, David was positive Billy had orgasmed. Despite Bully’s frantic gasping and tightening spasms that didn’t seem to want to stop, he somehow managed to restrain his thrusts to the same steady slow in and out. Even when it was over, and Billy was calming down, he kept fucking gently. He certainly didn’t go in as far as he wanted, even though it was obvious that Billy’s rectum could hold his seven-inch cock if he pushed hard enough.
About then, he realized Billy was naturally submissive, more than willing to do whatever he wanted. There were other positions he wanted to try, especially the one that Aaron seemed to prefer. However, he worried that the oil was beginning to dry out. It was sticky between them, enough that he felt between them, touching his engorged sleek shaft where it disappeared into boy’s enlarged hole. He turned his head to see if his fingers were oily, but Billy grabbed his hair.
“No stop, not now, not ever,” David promised, thinking that he would be happy for the rest of his life.
David awoke with the first glow of dawn at sea, luxuriating in a muddled, warm, silky-soft dream. He yawned, blinked twice, and yawned again, squinting into the gloom. It was too dark to see more than hazy shadows, so he drifted half-asleep, feeling shivery hot all over as he tried to decide what was real in his dream, disputing with himself whether any of it really had happened. If only he could concentrate long enough.
Mostly, it was a pleasantly uncomfortable sensation that distracted him, a warm weight pressing on his belly and thigh that finally convinced him to stop considering impossibilities and actually wake up to reality. He extended a hand down and lightly touched.
“Ohhh.” He breathed out, shaking his head even as his fingers stroked through Billy’s mussed-up punk hair.
Suddenly, he felt hot all over. He could feel his hand trembling on Billy’s head, his heart fluttering.
“Damn; I really did fuck him,” he murmured.
He lay quietly, still waking up, still stroking, remembering. He couldn’t help feeling a little smug, even though he realized he should be thoroughly ashamed of himself. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity had been handed to him, and he’d taken advantage, twice. He’d made love to a little boy, done everything he’d seen in photos and videos and read on Nifty, everything he’d ever fantasized about. It was all so incredibly right, one fabulous sensation after another, right up to the time he’d drifted off to sleep with his penis still embedded in Billy’s semen-soaked bottom.
“Poor little guy must have jet lag something awful,” he snickered, tickling a tiny ear, but the boy didn’t budge.
Billy was still wide-awake when David had finally dozed off, which had to be well after midnight. David smiled at the image, the exotic half-Asian boy wriggling, squeezing on his cock, trying to get him erect again, but he was unable to keep his eyes open.
Just thinking about it, aroused David. Unable to resist, he reached down with his left hand, still fondling punk boy-hair with the other. His glans was tender where Billy had sucked him, almost sore when he was fully erect, which only took a few seconds. It was crusty and itching too, and he desperately needed a morning piss, but he was unable to move.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he cooed.
If he was sore; Billy had to be in agony. Of course, he should’ve been more gentle when he had his cock up the boy’s butt, but eventually Billy had begged for it. ‘Harder’ he’d demanded, harder like he was trying to prove something, or he’d done it so often he enjoyed it, or he wanted David to enjoy it. However, the more David thought about it, the less likely it became that Billy actually enjoyed what he’d done. Everyone knew it was impossible that a young boy could enjoy anal sex with a man. The only problem was Billy made sounds like he loved it!
“Your little fanny must be a mess,” he muttered guiltily.
He reached over Billy, slipping his hand down the boy’s lean back, onto his rounded bottom, rubbing his smooth firm cheeks, smiling to himself about ‘tuzki.’ He’d been overcome with desire during the night, unable to stop himself from plundering the little brown body being offered to him. It wasn’t much different now. It was all so easy when a boy was willing; and Billy was beyond willing. He was downright eager; David had no doubt about it. It didn’t help that the little boy was ravishingly beautiful.
“Sorry,” he sighed, finally thinking it through.
He never liked having second thoughts. It bothered him that Billy was so small, his head barely reaching to his chest when his ankles were somewhere near David’s knees. He was fragile and soft like a child, but… he knew exactly what to do.
“Damn!” he groaned, shaking his head. Billy was sexy and shameless. Nine years old and he was anything but innocent.
‘He probably knows how to fuck better than I do,’ he thought with a smile.
Billy was everything that David had ever desired, and that was a problem. It would’ve been a different matter if he was older—twelve or thirteen with oversized feet and sprouting hair on his groin, but he wasn’t. He was small everywhere, and smooth as polished alabaster, and as playfully giggly and uninhibited as boy could be.
In the pale light of early morning, none of it seemed possible. Billy’s mop of shaggy hair like dark shinny silk on David’s chest only a few inches away didn’t assist his self control. Neither did faint puffs of air, or strands of hair rubbing on David’s bristly chin. Even persistent recriminations didn’t stop him from reaching around Billy and carefully inching the nude boy closer. He trembled when he caressed the boy’s small, rounded butt. Utterly hairless skin and nine-and-half-year-old warmth seduced him, an unbelievably soft tactile delight. His fingers explored for less than a minute before he decided that Billy’s little bare body had to be one of the ten most incredible things in the world. He loved how rounded each rounded buttock merged into his back and bulged out again at the start of his thighs, how they curved invitingly into his crack.
“Beautiful…” He said it with a sigh from deep down inside.
Billy’s butt was the perfect size for David’s hand. He could cover both cheeks and rub his finger down the slimy hot furrow. He touched the tiny opening and his heart beat faster. Billy was hot and moist there. Even the slightest touch was enough to bring back lingering memories. Penetrating the relaxed rim with his fingertip generated overpowering lust, yet somehow he managed to take it one gentle step at a time. It was almost a game, a teasing, tantalizing game of discovery. In awe, he fondled miniscule balls and dangling boy-cock, taking advantage of the sleeping child.
Billy exhaled with metronome regularity, each slow deep breath matched by David, but the man’s breathing had an urgency driven by excitement as he retraced his way back to the boy’s narrow crevice. Unable to resist, he cautiously pressed his finger deeper.
He could smell the results of man-boy sex. It was even stronger than during the night. It thrilled him almost as much as realizing that some of the wetness on his fingers was his semen, still leaking from the boy’s anus. He rubbed his finger in the slippery excretion, toying with a hole that now seemed impossibly small, tracing the tender, puffy rim. Billy was so hot there that it worried him, so hot that he didn’t dare push his finger farther inside, even though he was certain it would be easy to do.
“I need to get you back to your cabin,” he murmured.
After a moment, he carefully lifted the boy’s head from his chest. Deprived of his pillow, Billy stirred, uttering a muted whimper. His eyelids fluttered. He flinched, whined softly, and settled back down.
“Sweet dreams, my beautiful boy,” David crooned. He was shaking.
He pressed back against the naked boy, basking in his warmth, inhaling his scent and the musky odor from lower down, trying to place a pleasant smell from his childhood. Somewhere in the ship, a bell chimed. He knew he should stop, but he couldn’t. Very gently, he fondled boy-balls, fingering satiny loose folds, chasing the twin tiny eggs from side to side. Perhaps he squeezed one of them too tightly because Billy grunted and rolled onto his back. He quickly shifted to caressing floppy boy-cock. The extra skin fascinated him. He loved its suppleness, how the prepuce rolled over the tiny helmet, how it puckered to form a nozzle at the end.
“Let’s get you stiff again, Baby,” he whispered, suddenly nervous.
His hand moved on instinct, holding the stubby penis between his thumb and first finger, rubbing his middle finger underneath, just below the bulbous head. It wasn’t long before he noticed additional firmness. He rubbed gently, wanting only to feel it stiffen. Billy’s erection was nearly instantaneous, his excess skin gliding along his stiff short shaft, making David very aware of the rigid core.
“I’m addicted to Billy-dick,” he snickered, playfully taunting the proud straight organ.
It was wonderful achievement, holding that part of a boy after making it stiff. Billy’s penis was small by Western standards, yet it was perfect for a man who loved little boys. It tapered from a broad base to a tiny helmet, but David already knew that—he’d sucked on it long enough to know it intimately. With a curious finger he explored again, discovering a fold of skin where Billy’s stiff shaft joined to his balls. Even sexier, a shallow groove on the other side marked where the little wedge-shaped lever emerged from his pubis. It was as if his balls draped around his cock. David liked that.
He watched Billy’s eyelids for the slightest flicker as he eased back the foreskin, down the shaft as far as he could get it and still keep the glans covered. Then, with a deft flick of his fingers, he popped out the miniature head. Tiny folds of delicate skin glided under his fingers, and he glowed. Billy’s foreskin was tight enough that it was reluctant to creep back past the rim. He assisted, and then pushed it back again. A dozen times in total. Only then, he lightly stroked the most tender part of a boy’s body. It was the same in principle as his own, yet it felt so different.
Resisting the impulse to look, he began trying to find how far down he could get the boy’s prepuce. The elasticity of that tiny tube of skin amazed him, even though he’d done it again and again during the night. He bunched the excess skin behind the head and gently fingered the exposed bell on the end. Instantly, Billy’s penis stiffened even more. Avid David just grinned. He felt all around the swollen tip, sometimes squeezing the blood out of it, then letting it flow back in, rolling it between his fingers, scratching his fingernail in the groove underneath. Billy’s penis got harder and harder, and his balls got tighter, wrinkling into a walnut.
“So much for my self control,” David mused.
His fondling lasted ten minutes before he gave in. He had to look even if it meant waking Billy. He edged away carefully, watching Billy’s eyes for the first sign of waking up. Then, holding his breath, he lifted back the sheet, but he didn’t look down right away.
There wasn’t much light at 7:10 am, but there was enough to see Billy’s nipples. They were tiny dark dots. He savored the sight of the boy’s lean chest, lovingly running his fingers back and forth over rib indentations, firm flesh at his breasts hinting at pectoral muscle. His fingers trailed lower to Billy’s soft, flat, brown belly, his gaze glued on the boy’s navel. He smiled smugly. It was barely an innie with a lip of skin at the bottom, a shallow depression where his belly pulled in.
David sat up to see the most important thing of all.
“What the fuck!”
Then, he swallowed hard. Disbelieving, he crouched over the boy. He gaped, still thinking his eyes were deceiving him, but they weren’t. For a few moments, he tried to tell himself the blue-hued curves were a child’s crude attempt to decorate his body with art markers. The marks were obviously intended as decoration, but they weren’t crude, and they weren’t made with markers. Two tattooed curls extended over Billy’s balls, another into the furrow of his right thigh, another across his pudgy little pubis. The curls went all the way up his penis. He carefully moved the boy’s slender thighs apart, to find more spirals, swirling from under his scrotum, up the side of his thigh, around the base of his penis. The spirals down the shaft becoming increasingly darker.
For a moment, David thought he was looking at a crocodile because of the gaping purple jaws that looked like they were about to devour the top of Billy’s very erect penis, but crocodiles weren’t elegant, or swirly.
“Dragon?” David mused, frowning and feeling very strange inside.
It was a dragon, intricate in its detail, with scales so tiny that David had to peer closely to see them. With trembling hands, he separated Billy’s thighs, lifting one leg perpendicular to the other. The musky sex smell was much stronger. He inhaled, finding it invigorating, making his heart pound as much as what he saw. The dragon’s tail curled around Billy’s wet puffy anus with three curls reaching right up to the rim, the final swirl pointing down his crack.
David rubbed his eyes. “Damn!”
He shook his head and licked his lips, and it all rushed back, the way Billy kept kissing him and pulling him higher until David got his penis inside him, how he’d turned off the lights before David sucked his boy-dick, and turned them back on again the second time they fucked. The dragon’s curved talons looked awfully real, like they were actually digging in. One claw even drew a droplet of blood from the side of Billy’s penis.
His heart thundered. Another claw was stuck in his scrotum. It was a gruesome work of art, yet he wanted to suck the little cock more than he could ever imagine. He wanted to lick Billy’s anus and stick his tongue inside, where the claws were pulling him open. He wanted to fuck him, but more than anything, he wanted to look closely at the tattoo. He rubbed his eyes and wished the light were stronger. He crouched over Billy, swallowing mouthfuls of saliva, licking his lips until he dared to touch it. By then, Billy’s erection had faded, making it difficult to pull back his foreskin. David squeezed excess skin along the stubby shaft until the glans popped through the dragon’s head. It was striking, decorated with fire-engine-red and Caesar-purple swirls, minuscule flames licking the plump little dome. Whoever had done it had also tattooed the inside of Billy’s foreskin the same color as a dark purple plum, like the inside of a dragon’s mouth. It was definitely hot!
He stared at the tattoo for 13 minutes, restraining himself with great difficulty, touching it lightly, tracing every spiral, embedding every precise detail in his memory, amused by the difference between the dragon asleep and the dragon awake, tickled by the dragon’s mouth decorating the puckered tip of his foreskin. Even better, was the prepuce pushed back, jaws gaping and breathing a fire-red little ball. Then, Billy woke up.
“Nǐ hǎo,” he whispered.
David’s head jerked up. “Hi! Good morning.”
They gaped at each other’s bare bodies, mostly their middles, one sleek and tawny with almond-colored loins and a brazen blue tattoo, the other hairy and so much bigger, still waiting for summer’s tan. Finally, Billy yawned with his pretty mouth wide open.
“You make stiff,” he sniggered, flipping at his rigid penis.
“What… what happened to you?” David asked, his voice trembling.
Billy hesitated, smiling shyly, his little right hand now gripping his ornamented erection, a fingernail scratching the dragon’s blue talon where it penetrated his shaft. That, the claw drew blood from his pubis made it very erotic.
“It was good last night, wasn’t it David?”
“Yes, it was good. What happened to you?” He glanced down again, unable to stop himself.
Billy raised his arms over his head, stretching out. His stiff penis pointed up his belly, making his little dragon bounce as he breathed, leaving his thighs spread apart, showing everything to his man.
“Yes, the tattoo,” David frowned.
“I got him in Shanghai.” He touched David’s arm. “Don’t you like him, David?”
David was still undecided. He pushed his fingers through his unruly hair, watching the little penis twitch. It was as if the dragon sprouting from Billy’s little crotch was alive. It took almost a minute for him to realize. The dragon wasn’t just gripping Billy’s sex; it was part of him.
Until then, he assigned tattoos to the same category as eyebrow rings and tongue studs. Too many of his students had body mods, even the very bright ones who enrolled in his advanced computational math course, but on a nine-year-old boy and there of all places. He shouldn’t have been so shocked after what they’d done during the night…
“It’s… it’s incredible. I mean… Hot damn! Yes, I like it. It’s so fucking sexy.”
Billy giggled. “You sound like Chung. He say that too.”
“He is Mr. Wang’s artist friend. Mr. Wang tell him to make me special.”
“Chung did your tattoo?”
Billy nodded, reaching down with both hands, pointing his chunky erection at David. “I am dragon-boy now,” he said softly.
“Dragon-boy… Yes you are,” David muttered.
“His name is Longwei,” Billy declared.
“He ought to be Short-wee-wee,” David joked, realizing Billy probably wouldn’t get it.
“Mommy call him Longwei. It means Dragon Greatness,”
“Did it hurt… getting it done?”
“I don’t remember. Chung gave me pill so I sleep. When I wake up, my dragon done. He not hurt at all, only itch on the plane.”
“Your dragon is beautiful,” David admitted, mostly to convince himself he wasn’t totally crazy. It must have taken all day to make.
Billy’s fingers pressed down, retracting his foreskin, exposing the fiery red ball. “Longwei breath fire, see.”
Billy grinned. “Mr. Wang tell Chung make so I am sexy. No dragon same as mine. Hot huh?”
“Hot makes you hard,” Billy smirked, looking down at David’s groin. “It make Mr. Wang hard too.”
“When did he see it?” David inquired as innocuously as he could.
“At Mike’s place, in shower. Mr. Wang get big when he see it.”
“Yeah, well no surprise there, huh? I mean you’re a beautiful boy with a dragon tattooed on his dick. That’s pretty exciting stuff.”
Billy smiled. “So, David, I think you like dragon?”
“What’s not to like?” David relented. ”I love it.”
“You like jijian too, David?” Billy giggled.
“When you play in rear courtyard. You know...” He leaned closer and whispered, “What we do last night. Ass fucking.”
“I love jijian almost as much as I love you,” David said, honesty winning.
Billy frowned momentarily. “Jerry say you see either hunger or happiness in eyes when man say he love you.”
“I’ve never been so happy.”
“You happy,” Billy agreed, very seriously. “You have bright eyes, like bird.”
“I’ve never felt so free, not since my wife told me to get out of the house.”
“You like jijian too much to have wife,” Billy snickered, flipping at David’s cock. “This made to pillow with boy, fit good in boy’s mouth. Belong in bunny, not pussy.”
David tickled him. Billy giggled and writhed and tried to climb over him. David wrestled him down, going for armpits, crotch, ribs, and feet in that order, messing up the bed even more. They ended up with Billy lying on top, grinning down, naked and excited, rubbing himself on David’s thick penis, his own little dragon equally ready for action. David relaxed underneath, luxuriating under the warm, wiry boy, soothingly stroking his flanks. He couldn’t stop smiling at Billy as he looked into his deep dark eyes, even more enjoyable because Billy smiled back and gazed into his eyes. Something had changed between them. He felt so close to the boy, they might have been father and son.
His hands soon found their way to Billy’s buttocks. He massaged affectionately, thinking nothing could be as soft. Billy undulated against him, getting increasingly excited.
“Do jijian, David,” he said very seriously, shifting lower until David’s stiff penis touched his bottom.
“You like jijian too,” David teased, tilting his head back to look in the mirror.
Billy grinned back at him and drooled on his fingers, and reached behind to apply his saliva. He came back for more and made David spit. He rubbed it on David’s penis.
“Make bud bloom.”
It took a moment for David to realize. He was perfectly happy just rubbing between the boy’s slender thighs. Cautiously, he guided his penis along the boy’s furrow. He felt the indentation, hot and wet with saliva. He pressed the head against the hole, making Billy sigh softly. He didn’t try to go in—the moment was too special for that. Instead, he tickled, touching the delicate flesh again and again, excreting his juices, making slippery foam in Billy’s anus.
Billy decided when the time was ready. “Go in, David.”
“You’ve done jijian before last night, haven’t you?” David asked awkwardly.
“Only with boy. This many years.” Billy held up four fingers, smirking about his superior experience.
David thought having anal sex at age five was highly unlikely. “Lucky boy.”
“I lucky with you.”
Billy grinned and climbed off. He darted across to the still-open cabinet. Dreamily, David admired Billy’s lean brown back, long black hair dancing on his shoulders, his little round bottom so tempting that he wanted to spend the rest of his life worshipping it.
“What are you doing?”
Billy skipped back to the bed, clutching a small spherical glass flask. He held it out for David to see as he swirled the golden liquid inside before carefully removing the stopper. He carefully poured a few drops on his palm, inserted the stopper, and placed the flask on the nightstand. He straddled David’s thighs and rubbed his slick hand up and down the man’s cock.
“Duck oil,” he explained with a smirk. “Spit not slippery enough.”
“Duck oil is slippery,” David agreed. It was almost as if Billy wasn’t touching him, but he was, his little hand gliding up and down with religious devotion.
Billy nodded, dismounting again. “Make us taste good too.” Still smirking, he gestured at David. “Turn so you see.” He pointed at the mirror.
David hurriedly swiveled around on the bed, his feet shoving pillows aside. In the mirror, he watched Billy climb back on and straddle his hips, giggling and looking over his shoulder as well.
“Is good view in mirror,” he declared.
“Incredible,” David sighed, back to staring at the elegant dragon tattoo.
He could see its dark blue tail when Billy leaned over him, pointing up his crack almost to his tailbone, three tiny curls circling the opening into him. They kissed lightly, just on the lips until David hugged him. Then, Billy’s tongue came out and he licked the man’s face. David breathed out, hugging tightly, looking over Billy’s shoulder, watching the naked boy work his magic, squirming on top of him, rubbing his boy-parts into David’s belly, kissing in his own unique way.
Suddenly, Billy lifted up, sliding lower as he parted his pale firm buttocks and placed the tip of David’s penis at his hole.
“Go in slow like caterpillar.”
Moist warmth settled round David’s cock. It wasn’t in, but he still gasped. He could feel the boy pushing onto him, his anus nipping at the tip. He pushed up very gently, holding down Billy’s hips.
“Uhhhh,” Billy groaned.
David eased back and reached behind Billy, stretching the little hole with his fingers, watching himself in the mirror for almost a minute. Certain that a thin film of duck oil wasn’t enough, he added more saliva and rubbed his cock along Billy’s crack, painting the boy’s tattoo with precum, massaging the little opening until it was flexible again. Then, with one fingertip from each hand inserted into the still-snug hole, he went to work, making pliant muscle that he could stretch from side to side.
Again, he placed his penis, the fat red bulb lodged against the hole hidden between Billy’s beatiful slimy buttocks. He pressed gently and felt the anus open to accept him. He squeezed against it, trembling and doing his best to resist lifting with his thighs. With nowhere else for his cock to go, Billy’s opening began to stretch. Just a half inch went in, David gasping at the heat and the sensation of penetration.
All of a sudden, Billy shuddered and tried to push back. “Go in,” he whimpered.
David pushed harder. He was sure he could feel the boy-hole opening up even more, getting bigger for him. And slipperier too, because he was excreting his slimy juice directly into Billy. Then, the head of his cock forced through. With his swollen glans barely inside, he didn’t stop. He lifted up, sliding another inch though the boy’s clutching muscle. He stopped with the rim of his cock wedged safely beyond the panicked sphincter, which was squeezing relentlessly.
But David had already stopped pushing. He held Billy’s slender hips, keeping him in place so he couldn’t push it out accidentally, waves of ecstasy flowing from the little boy into him and back again, every nerve ending focused on two lucky inches.
“We did it,” Billy whispered.
“Yeah… again,” he muttered back, mostly to himself because it still seemed impossible. His cock was huge compared to Billy’s hole and yet the boy’s little body had taken him in.
“You in my ass, David,” Billy laughed, interrupting the moment. He turned around to look in the mirror. He waved to himself.
“Three times, and I was thinking I’d never get to do this…..”
“Little dragon afraid of big dragon, see.”
Billy’s mostly blue penis dangled down, flopping against his thighs as he wriggled from side to side. He flipped at it and stretched it out, making a longer, skinny dragon before scratching at his balls. Then, still seated on David’s cock, he tugged back his foreskin, spit on his fingers, and rubbed it on the tip.
“Itches on end,” he explained.
David gawked at the dragon’s gaping maw, tiny purple foreskin turned inside out, a bold ring surrounding the little fireball. Grinning, Billy traced it back, down his penis and across his pubis, between his thigh and knotted scrotum. It looked sore in places.
Despite a shaking, clumsy hand, David’s finger followed the same route. Then, Billy leaned low, pulling his buttocks wide apart so David could see the rest of it, including where his penis went in.
“You feel so good,” David groaned, gazing at the mirror.
“You’re beautiful… your ass feels like it’s on fire.” It also felt slippery inside Billy, almost sloppy.
“It hot when boy do jijian with big cock,” Billy teased, glancing over his shoulder.
Since his divorce, David trained himself to avoid self-recrimination when it came to thinking about boys. Now guilt squabbled with lust. Lust won easily, the same as it did when he discovered the photos of Aaron. Vaguely, he wondered what his ex-wife would say if she knew he was having intensely satisfying sex with a tattooed, not-even-ten-year-old boy.
“Go deeper,” Billy instructed.
David penetrated deeper, but he did it very carefully. Watching, listening, feeling the little boy’s stress. Something inside him insisted he had to finish what he’d started. It had to happen. Going in all the way was why men fucked little boys. Billy sighed as David’s penis took control of his body, every movement, every heartbeat transferred directly into him. He didn’t stop until they were well past half way.
“Now fuck,” Billy whispered.
David began to thrust ever so gently, watching Billy’s eyes for tears as he fucked the slender brown abdomen. Billy’s delicious wet heat greeted him each time his cock pumped into his rectum. Then, Billy grinned. With no more warning, his body grasped David’s cock, surprisingly strong muscular contractions pulling, squeezing, still tight even though the hole had loosened quickly.
“Wow!” David had to make himself close his mouth.
David began to move farther with each thrust, punching through the dilated opening. He was certain his cock was near Billy’s navel. It was so deep it seemed only an inch remained outside. Something inside Billy held him back despite remarkably strong muscles pulling inward, yet when he tried to go farther, the boy winced. On the outstroke, his cock glistened with duck oil. In, out, fucking faster and faster, increasingly desperate to leave more of his semen in the boy’s juicy bowels.
“So big,” Billy groaned, grasping David’s arms with a fierce look in his eyes.
“You do harder standing up.”
In an instant, Billy raised his pelvis, withdrawing the man’s cock without difficulty. He dismounted, and pushed and pulled, jabbering in Mandarin until David realized. He pulled Billy onto the bed beside him and stood up. Almost manically, he repositioned the boy perpendicular to the edge of the bed and stepped closer.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he muttered.
“You so fucking sexy,” Billy giggled back, mischievously pulling his right thigh higher.
For the first time, David saw the dragon tattoo in its entirety. It must have taken a full day to make, such intricate scaly detail, such remarkable blending of color. From an azure-blue tail-tip, the dragon changed to crimson as it curled obscenely around Billy’s anus, which was now a yawning dark hole. It turned blue again as it skirted his balls, two darker spirals reaching out to grasp his gonads, before circling his pubis. There was no question it owned Billy’s boyhood, and the rest of him as well.
He licked his lips, caught up in thoughts he’d never had before. What would it be like to own a little boy, like a man might own shoes, or a pet, with all the rights and privileges of possession?
David gazed at the mirror as the head of his cock slid down Billy’s crack and found his anus. They grinned at each other, and then looked at the mirror together. David gave a firm push to get started, and Billy uttered the requisite whimper as the huge helmet shoved through his sphincter.
“Awesome,” David moaned, sliding in deeper, thinking he would erupt at any second.
“Go fast!” Billy begged.
Billy’s prepuce retracted with a simple flick of David’s hand. He fucked and fondled, his fingers teasing, coaxing life. He went from fondling to rubbing, up and down only a few times before he felt the shaft engorge, growing between his fingers. In seconds, the fat little penis erected, ending with its head exposed, the skin pulled all the way back. Longwei covered most of it, its jaws reaching to the very end of his foreskin. The possessive dragon twitched, stiffening even more. He’d never seen anything as sexy.
Just six more thrusts and Billy’s orgasm blasted through him, his spasms spaced far apart, each one making him shudder. Just the look on his face would make that Sunday morning unforgettable for David Ryder. Billy grunted out each contraction, eyes scrunched up, teeth gritted, nostrils flaring. He kept thrusting into the boy, restraining himself until the spasms ended. He was startled back into action as Billy’s sphincter clamped down again. Another round of mindboggling squeezes and the boy’s gasping squeaks were more than enough for David, who’d been close to climax for nearly an hour. He lunged forward, his cock surging into Billy’s slim belly as he spurted, squirt after squirt of white hot seed. He didn’t breath again until he emptied his balls.
“So good,” he growled.
He was barely aware of Billy pulling him down onto the bed, rolling onto his back with Billy clinging to him. Then, they were front to front as nature intended, with Billy’s legs outside his, his cock still embedded but not nearly as deep; leaking sperm, hot and sweaty everywhere. They kissed; passionate man kisses and sloppy boy kisses intermingled, completely oblivious that the lavishly decorated cabin smelled like a busy boy brothel in northwest Pakistan.
David was nearly asleep when Billy lifted up. His penis plopped wetly out of the boy’s ravished hole, followed by a gurgle that might have been a fart if it wasn’t so slimy. Still side-on in the enormous mirror, he watched the naked boy slide down his body, dripping semen from his balls. He crouched over David’s knees and bent down.
“You don’t have to do that,” David muttered, not believing what was happening.
Billy glanced up, and smirked at the mirror. “Duck oil taste good.”
Then, he opened his mouth and gulped David’s cock, oblivious to slime all over the top two-thirds. The little dark head bobbed over his middle, boy-tongue licking off semen, tender lips sucking, planting kisses by the score. David wished he’d brought his camera with him—he’d never used the one in his cell-phone.
Before he got hard again, Billy gave him a parting kiss and climbed off, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, still grinning. David held out his arms, but Billy shook his head and backed away unsteadily, absently rubbing at his ornate penis and balls.
“No more jijian. Mr. Wang, he say breakfast at nine.”
“I’ll settle for a kiss?”
Billy glanced down. A trickle of David’s semen slid down his left thigh. It stopped at his knee. He smeared his hand down his thigh, leaving a long wet streak. He looked up bashfully.
“Sorry about that,” David muttered, suddenly realizing that he should’ve used a condom.
“Your seed belong in me,” Billy said seriously.
“We’re definitely compatible.”
“You need shower; you smell of tuzki, David.”
Suddenly, Billy’s belly gurgled. He quickly cupped his hand over his bottom so he didn’t soil the carpet. David caught a glimpse of Billy’s semen-coated buttocks as he headed for the door. No wonder Billy moved gingerly—the insides of his cheeks were red raw.
“I really do love you,” David said quietly, trying hard not to smile.
He couldn’t help but be proud, even if it did mean the little Asian boy would be sore for a while.
Billy shook his head and cowboy-walked a few paces before turning again. He grimaced and wiped another trickle of semen from his thigh. He licked his fingers before he smelled. Then, he wrinkled his nose. David smiled back just before he closed the door.
It was several minutes later when David finally pulled the sheet over his bare body, using it to wipe off Billy’s spit and what remained of the fragrant duck oil.
David strolled out of his cabin at precisely 9:00 am, attired in what he hoped were appropriate yachting clothes, a white polo shirt and creamy chinos that were a fair match for Billy’s from the night before. He’d even found a pair of brown leather boat shoes in his closet. They dated from before his divorce, but they had cleaned up nicely with shoe polish. They looked very nautical without socks.
“Good morning is nǐ hǎo, right?” he asked as he stepped into the salon, immediately deciding he was under-dressed for the occasion.
Billy, who was in a whispering contest with Ling, gave him a mischievous grin and a ‘thumb’s up,’ as if he needed reminding where that little thumb had been in the middle of the night.
“Nǐ hǎo,” Ling replied with a welcoming smile.
Suddenly, David had an awful sinking feeling that she knew everything. The way Billy was sitting, with his leg under him, bothered him too, as if his bottom was too sore to sit on.
“What a lovely morning,” he mumbled, guiltily looking about.
There was no sign of land, but a pair of seagulls swooped over the sea behind the yacht.
Before she could respond, Billy said, “Nǐ hǎo, David,“ with a sing-song voice that was far more teasing than it needed to be for the situation.
He stood tentatively, one hand on Ling’s arm like he was too weak to stand by himself, dressed in a pair of loose black nylon shorts and a lime-green, short-sleeved Puma tee shirt, but a nine-year-old boy could get away with murder if he was extra good-looking.
“Help yourself to some coffee,” Ling snickered, lightly patting Billy on the butt. “Mr. Wang will be here in a minute. He’s just going over something with the crew.”
A mobile cart was next to the glass doors overlooking the rear deck, with coffee, tea, fresh-squeezed orange juice, and little sugar-coated pastries, arranged around a miniature garden in a jade-green bowl. It looked like a photo in Vogue. David wandered over, his ears attuned for more whispers, but Ling and Billy spoke Chinese, standing very close together. He poured a cup of coffee, almost spilling it when he saw the dragon on its side. Up close, it looked like Billy’s dragon. He tried to convince himself that all dragons looked the same, but he was certain that even the colors were identical.
He turned suddenly, when he thought he heard Billy say ‘it sore’ and giggle.
Wang stooped to whisper in Billy’s ear. He ended by saying, “I’m glad my Shanghai dragon is in seventh heaven.”
It was loud enough for David to hear. In fact, he was almost certain that he was supposed to hear.
Wang wasn’t wearing his Armani business suit, but he still oozed wealth. He also patted Billy’s butt and kissed the top of his head. Then, he draped his blue silk Mao jacket over the boy’s shoulders, as if he was cold or showing too much bare skin, mostly talking with Ling in rapid Mandarin, Billy nodding his head in agreement. It was only then that David noticed Wang and Ling wore similar white silk shirts, both embroidered with a dragon on the breast. His feeling of apprehension returned even stronger, so he studied the seagulls.
“Nǐ hǎo, Professor.”
David hadn’t heard him approach. “Nǐ hǎo, Mr. Wang.
“How did you sleep, David?” he enquired.
“Okay,” David ventured, on the verge of panicking.
“You look tired. The Azure Dragon was too noisy for you perhaps?”
David shook his head and muttered, “Not at all.”
“Billy said he was awake until one am,” Wang went on.
“Jet lag, probably. He came in to talk for a while. He didn’t bother me,” David added, increasingly awkward.
“Ah. Jet lag,” Wang repeated, regarding the boy now sitting next to Ling, who was stroking his hair.
“Where’s Mike?” David asked, feeling awkward
“He is on the phone to his uncle. He will join us in a few minutes.”
David tensed, but thought he’d hidden it.
“Is something wrong, Doctor Ryder?” Ling asked. At least she sounded sincere.
He shook his head quickly. Wang was watching him closely too. He was about to say he had to return to Princeton immediately after they docked in Annapolis when the other man nodded at Billy.
“Did none of the clothes fit Xǐaopang?”
“They were all too big for him, Mr. Wang,” Ling said. “I’ll take his measurements later and fax them to Shanghai.”
Wang frowned slightly. “A beautiful child must wear only the finest silk.”
“Uncle Yung-fa?” Billy chimed in.
“Yes, little dragon?”
“What are we going to do today?” he asked sweetly.
“What would you like to do?”
Billy stole a quick glance at David. “Can we visit the White House?”
Wang chuckled. “A lot has changed in ten years, Xǐaopang.”
“I’m not sure I would recognize anyone there,” Ling added with a smile. “I knew several of Bush’s rich oil friends quite well, but nowadays they are all black celebrities in the White House.”
“David is guest. What if he wants?” Billy asked, again glancing at David.
“I’ve already been,” David said, heading him off. “In 2005, if I remember. My dean had a meeting with Mrs. Bush about ways to improve math teaching in schools; he took me with him. Did you know…” He leaned in and said very quietly “… her husband failed math in fifth grade.”
“That sounds about right,” Wang laughed.
“I divide fractions good. Better than my teacher. Sometimes, I teach her,” Billy announced proudly.
“I’m not good at fractions. Maybe you can teach me,” David said, in an unusually good mood for that early in the day.
“I teach you much already,” Billy snickered.
David said the only thing he could with Wang and Ling looking right at him. “Beginning with how to make you giggle?”
He made a face, with his eyebrows raised and his eyes crossed, and on cue, Billy snorted giggles.
“What else have you taught him, Xǐaopang?” Ling teased.
Billy smirked back at her.
Before he could reply, David jumped in. “Let’s see. There’s how to rub his back.”
“Billy, tell me you didn’t make him rub your back,” Ling demanded.
Billy kept smirking, much to David’s growing consternation. “He rubbed front too, and my butt, and my….”
“Our little dragon is a bold one,” Wang interrupted. “He looks punk, but underneath he is gentle and sweet.”
“And very loving…” Ling added. She turned to David. “Do you believe in love at first sight, Doctor Ryder?”
David gave a nervous shrug, trying to organize his thoughts. “I once had an English professor who said it was a literary trope dating from the Middle Ages.”
She frowned. He guessed it wasn’t the answer she was looking for.
“I later discovered the ancient Romans had a similar saying about Cupid,” he added awkwardly. “Personally, I think it depends on who you are looking at when he shoots his arrow.”
“An excellent answer,” Wang applauded. He smiled. “Love at first sight is in your eyes, David. I can tell a lot from your eyes. They light up when you speak.”
David shrugged, trying hard to appear nonchalant and interested at the same time while his mind raced ahead. “Personally, I think it’s hunger.”
Wang laughed. “A perfect segue. Shall we move to the dining room?”
They trouped past Mike, who still had his cell-phone pressed to his ear, and into the dining room. The table was set for a dinner party, surrounded by glossy burled walnut cabinetry, glowing under halogen spotlights. White china plates and cups decorated with intricate azure dragons, sparkling crystal glasses, silk serviettes, antique silvery cutlery, a huge vase of white lilies, and a Murano glass sculpture of an arching girl mermaid.
“Ling, why don’t you sit here,” Wang said, directing her to his left, “and David why don’t on my other side.” He tousled Billy’s head. “And my Shanghai dragon, you sit next to him. Maybe I should bring a cushion… so you are taller?”
Billy giggled and shook his head.
David was no sooner seated next to Billy in a comfortable white leather chair than Wang clapped his hands. A moment later, Ming Su appeared, carrying an impressive silver platter. He placed bowls of fruit, bāozi (steamed buns with meat and vegetable stuffing), salted duck eggs, and rice congee in the center of the table and discreetly disappeared.
Wang gestured at a large painting, an abstraction of a discombobulated white horse gallivanting in the sea, with red people in the background, and a beautiful white woman leading them.
“My friend, Chung, painted it especially for the Azure Dragon,” he declared.
“It’s symbolic, I assume?” David asked.
Wang gestured noncommittally. “Some say the people are the peasants of Communism. The horse is China’s progress towards free enterprise. The girl is the way forward.”
Full-breasted and naked, she was too old to be a child, too young to be a mother. Ling smiled at David encouragingly. Beside him, Billy slouched moodily in his chair, picking at peaches and lychee nuts in sweet syrup.
Wang inclined his head. “What do you think, Professor?”
“She’s Yin. Horse is Yang…” Billy interjected, trying to be helpful. His left hand was in his lap, fingers scratching around his genitals.
“If in doubt, always say Yin and Yang, but still mind your manners, Little Dragon,” Wang warned.
“Is she taming the horse? Or leading them to the horse?” David asked uncertainly, taxing his peripheral vision as he stared at the painting, hoping Wang would let it pass.
“Chung says she is mating with the horse. If you look carefully, you can see where they join.”
“Big horse cock,” Billy giggled, pointing at the picture.
“Xǐaopang!” Ling snapped.
“People watch horse fuck her.”
“Such language, but I’m afraid I don’t get it,” David said, playfully cuffing Billy’s shoulder.
“Cock inside her pussy!” Billy pointed again.
“Xǐaopang!” she snapped again.
David smirked, even though he knew he shouldn’t.
“As I’m sure you’ve realized by now, we are very open about what happens on the Azure Dragon.”
“I guess I’m confused.”
“I’m expect this will clear up your confusion,” Wang said, hiding his smile behind his hand. He pushed a button and the painting slid back, revealing a large TV screen.
David squirmed the instant the first image appeared. It was the VIP guest cabin, but it was a view he hadn’t seen before. He was lying in the center of the bed, using his laptop. He might have been checking email, occasionally using his left hand to advance to the next one. The video was shot over his shoulder, from behind the mirror.
“Mr. Wang?” David almost shouted, now very uncomfortable.
“Please be patient, Professor.”
Suddenly, the spotlights dimmed and the image gained intensity. The bedspread fluttered over David’s right hand.
Billy erupted in giggles. “David play with cock.” He jerked his hand up and down.
David reddened, but worse was to come. The camera zoomed into the laptop, more words appearing on the screen as David scrolled down….
‘…Robbie held perfectly still, gazing along his heaving chest as he tried to weaken that muscle behind, doing his best to relieve the pressure inside him. It was all so strange, his little limp penis dangling down, a man’s penis actually going into his body. He could feel it slowly going deeper, steadily stretching him, getting bigger inside him…’
“An interesting perspective on a man and a boy making love,” Wang said seriously, pausing.
David shifted awkwardly even as the scene changed to the same room in darkness. The door opened briefly and a boy entered, silhouetted momentarily.
The scene ended abruptly, as soon as Billy said, “I can’t sleep, David.”
“We will skip when there is not much to see,” Wang explained.
“But the audio is very entertaining,” Ling teased.
When the video resumed, Billy was already naked, a dusky shadow lying on top of David. Between kisses, he looked up at the mirror. David squirmed in his seat as a small dark shape scooted down.
“You have big cock, David,” the boy admired softly. “I have to hold it with both hands…”
David felt sick, but he’d sighed when he’d felt Billy’s first loving lick, his thumb massaging his anus.
It was too dark to see much, but the sound of a little mouth sucking an adult penis was unmistakable. David sunk in his seat, but Billy didn’t seem to mind being on the screen—he sat up, watching, still eating lychees.
All of a sudden, Billy was lying on top, rubbing against David. His high-pitched voice was as clear as a bell.
At the time, David thought he meant between his thighs, so he kept rubbing his penis between Billy’s slender smooth thighs, occasionally rubbing across his little bottom, leaving a smears of slippery fluid.
“Go between!” Billy demanded.
In a rush, David had realized that Billy meant for him to go between his buttocks. It seemed to fit perfectly between his firm rubbery cheeks, almost as if his little body had been sculpted for that very purpose. Within a few seconds, David had excreted enough juice that his cock slipped back and forth in the narrow crack. Even in darkness, it was obvious the boy was intent on inserting it. For a while, David resisted. Eventually, lust took over.
Again, someone had edited the video. In the next scene, the reading lamps were on, filling the room with an amber glow. Now, there was enough light to see David lying side-on, gently fucking Billy, who had his legs tucked into his chest. David’s head was next to his, his lips attached to Billy’s bare shoulder.
“Amazing,” Wang remarked.
“What is?” David asked huffily.
“He settled down quickly. You entered him without even a whimper.”
“He didn’t hurt you, Xǐaopang?” Ling inquired.
Billy shrugged ambivalently. “He big first minute, then good.”
“Big or small, there is always soreness putting it in.” Wang agreed.
“It burn, that’s all.”
“You used the duck fat?” Ling asked.
Billy gave her a sour look. “Dark Sesame oil.”
“It’s slippery enough, but it’s not the best choice for a boy’s first time with a man. The flavor is too strong,” Wang acknowledged.
“You say use sesame oil.”
“You have a lot to learn, Xǐaopang. Light oil is much better when the turtle has a big head. It’s just as slippery and he will enjoy the flavor more.”
“Do we have to watch this?” David demanded, looking very confused and guilty at the same time.
“You are good with him. Your yīnjīng is just right for him; to go beyond is as bad as falling short ,” Wang chuckled, pointing at the screen. Billy inhaled every time David thrust forward. “He has a good steady stroke, Ling.”
“Men fated to be happy need not haste,” Ling observed with a curious smile.
David reddened. “You’ve got what you want, Mr. Wang.”
“What do think I want?”
“Not money, I assume. You have more than enough here to put me in jail for the rest of my life.”
Ling smirked, still watching the screen. She could hear her son’s muted whimper when the man’s penis pushed forward, a soft sigh following almost immediately. Billy was definitely experiencing some stress, his eyes closed to slits and his lips pressed together, but he wasn’t close to crying. A few moments later, he gasped. Suddenly, his feet bumped the professor’s back, his tiny toes curled up like his fists.
“You do it very gently, Professor Ryder. I can see why he likes you.”
“With time and patience the mulberry becomes silk.” Wang seemed about to say more, but hesitated and slowly turned to David, who was very red in the face. “I don’t intend to embarrass you,” he added quietly.
“Well you sure as hell are!”
“Making love with a willing boy is nothing to be ashamed about.”
David could hardly think. “He’s not even ten years old!”
“Look at his face, David. You are making him happy. See how he watches you. He sighs each time you withdraw.”
“He likes jijian,” Ling added. “His eyes are teary like yours.”
“Harder,” Billy whispered from the speakers. “Do it harder, David.”
“Harder, Xǐaopang?” Ling teased.
Billy giggled, leaning across the table for more lychees and a steamed bread roll. “He rub in spot I like, Mommy.”
David was stupefied.
“It feels good to have a man play in the rear courtyard, Little Dragon?” Wang inquired.
“What do you want, Mr. Wang?” David asked before Billy could answer.
“If you wish to know the mind of a man, listen to his words.”
“I’m listening,” David growled.
“By now you must realize that Billy is sexually experienced. He has slept with other boys, but you are his first man.”
“Just with Jerry!” Billy disputed.
Wang gestured disinterest. “One boy many times or many boys one time, it makes no difference, Xǐaopang.”
“What do you want from me?” David almost shouted.
He was increasingly flustered, constantly asking himself why he’d had sex with the boy. He hadn’t intended to. In fact, he tried to avoid it, but he couldn’t, not when their tickling game made him more excited than he’d ever been; and when Billy undressed, it was simply impossible. He was so beautiful, so warm and soft.
“You have software that decrypts. If you give it to me; in return this will disappear forever.” Wang nodded at the screen. “Unless you want a copy for yourself, of course.”
The camera zoomed in to fill the screen with David’s pelvis bucking against Billy’s bottom, his thick adult cock sliding in and out of Billy’s vividly tattooed anus, both man and boy groaning loudly.
“You learn as you go. That’s the best way,” Wang pointed out. “The man who does not learn his lover’s needs is like a drunken sailor walking in the night.”
Suddenly, David stopped, his penis still jerking between Billy’s small buttocks, obviously beginning his climax at that very moment. His hands gripped Billy’s hips, dragging him closer, the boy giggling, his mouth opening wide with surprise as he felt adult semen spurt into his bowels for the first time. The camera zoomed in.
Ling smirked, leaning towards the screen. “He seeded Xǐaopang and not a single cry,” she observed, pointing, her finger within an inch of an unmistakable white dribble escaping from between Billy’s buttocks.
Almost immediately, Billy had switched off the lights again and the image vanished
“Three times will prove what we want to be true, Ling. Tradition must be strictly adhered,” Wang insisted. Then, he smiled. “It is an important part of our brand, as you Americans like to say.”
David frowned at the screen, peering into the gloom, remembering what happened next. “What’s this about?”
Ling gazed fondly at Billy. “You’ve made my son very happy, Doctor Ryder.”
“Can we get to the point?”
“What happened last night and again this morning was in international waters, in a vessel registered in Guyana,” Wang explained. “Frankly, I can’t see the United Nations prosecuting you for sodomy on the high seas. Punishing you because you made love to a little boy is not something that any of us would like to do, however, if a small portion of the video was sent unencrypted to your email address at Princeton, it might prove embarrassing.”
Ryder expected blackmail, but he still stared at Wang. “All you want is the program that Mike has been working on?”
“You want Waterboard? That’s it?” David started to laugh.
He shook his head, still remembering Billy’s passionate kisses after sex, lots and lots of sloppy wet kisses all over his face and shoulders, playfully nipping on his nipples before he tossed him onto the bed and clambered over him, the darkness cloaking his obscene lust for a sexually charged little boy.
“What’s so funny, Professor?”
“This is! All of this! I put the code on SourceForge before I left yesterday morning.” He started to laugh again.
“What is SourceForge?” Wang asked.
“It’s the public domain for software. You can download Waterboard anytime you want for free,” David replied, still laughing.
(Author’s note: The CIA officially ordered the removal of Waterboard from SourceForge on December 20th, 2009. A greatly downgraded version with a different name and no less than four backdoors replaced it six days later.)
“I don’t understand. Yao said this is top-secret software.”
“I developed it for one purpose only, Mr. Wang.” David paused. “There were some files on Usenet that I wanted to see, but no one would give me the password. I tried other password breakers, but none of them worked as fast as I wanted, so I wrote Waterboard.”
“You’re not joking,” Wang said, his eyes lit up with the sheer absurdity of it.
David shrugged. He’d invented the algorithms to get his hands on photos of Aaron. After he had them, it was a matter of finding work for a programming-obsessed graduate student.
“Mr. Yao will be angry. Cai Shen won’t pay,” Mike said, standing in the doorway. He’d heard every word.
Wang lifted an eyebrow. “In this particular instance, I’m not interested in money, however you will pay for your stupidity.”
David pushed his chair back. “Do you mind if I go?”
“You would leave so soon?” Ling asked, seeming surprised that he would even suggest such a thing.
“You’ve got what you want,” he snarled, instantly regretting his tone.
“But do you have what you want?” Wang smiled.
“What about Billy, Professor?” Ling inquired sweetly.
“What about him?” David didn’t dare look down. He could hear Billy sniffling, a little hand tugging relentlessly at his shirt, the boy’s other hand itching at his crotch.
“A man who waits for roast duck to fly into mouth must wait a very, very long time.”
Glaring at Wang, Ryder shoved away Billy’s hand. “Enough of the fucking proverbs!”
“A stubborn man sees only the dirt on his shoes,” Ling responded, her tone dismissive.
“That means nothing to me!”
“Seeing that your seed has leaked from my son’s hole three times, I would think the meaning is quite clear.”
He glared at her. She seemed not to care, but the way she looked at Billy was more amused than anything else.
Billy turned his hopeful gaze on David. ”We fit… everywhere.“
“Too bad, because I can’t stand to look at you!”
Wang shook his head. “If that is your position, Professor Ryder, I have no choice. Xǐaopang will go to Saint Lucia tonight.”
It was the last thing David heard before he rushed out of the room, bile rising in his throat, his stomach churning like he was seasick.
“You need a holiday, David.”
For the second time in three days, Ryder ignored his Dean. James Everret was imposing, a bright-eyed, bald-headed man who was big enough to block his doorway. No doubt he had secrets of his own, but Ryder still shoved his most recent studies into a folder, 7 pages of algorithms and diagrams, each page pre-numbered and stamped ‘DOD L-3’ for Department of Defense Level-Three Classified. The top page was innocuously titled ‘A Comparison of Fuzzy Logic and Probabilistic Logic,’ by Chou Yeng, a non-existent third-year student.
“What I need is a new graduate assistant to grade these,” Ryder replied, brazenly waving the folder. He blinked reddened eyes and coughed a half-dozen times, unable to shake the latest flu virus.
”A couple of days away will fix you right up,” Everret went on regardless. “I’ll have a doctoral student cover your undergraduate class. Wilson’s offered to do the seminar.”
”The last thing I want to do…” He stopped for another coughing fit.
“You have to go, David. Steve Smith’s called me every day for the last three days. Heck, I might even join you and spend the weekend with some Chinese friends.”
“Like the Chinese will give money to Princeton,” Ryder scoffed.
“This’ll have nothing to do with fundraising,” Everret smirked. “Will you go as a favor to me?”
Ryder shrugged doubtfully. A tenured, full-professor could get away with it.
“How about pretty women, great food, and as much booze as you can drink?” Everret joked.
With his inheritance and family connections, Everret made an admirable university president until the Board of Trustees learned of his sexual eccentricities—he cohabited an 1830s mansion with a 22-year-old boyfriend from Tanzania. A year earlier, he’d stepped down and accepted the position of Dean and an undisclosed settlement.
“I don’t see why you need me there?”
“How about getting Princeton’s foot in the door with the next generation of cpus?”
But Ryder already knew that was the primary reason. He’d done enough research in fuzzy logic to understand its complex circuitry, so at Everret’s request he’d spent the last three months conversing with Rick Barovsky, Russian immigrant and cpu designer for a well-known multinational company in Texas. Barovsky reported directly to Steve Smith, Everret’s room mate from his undergraduate days at MIT. For eleven out of twelve weeks, he despised Barovsky and loathed Smith, although he’d never met either of them in person.
“Silicon logic is a new paradigm for robotics,” Everret rambled on, watching Ryder try to tidy his chaotic desk.
“Everything’s a new paradigm for robotics.”
“I’d love to join you, but I’m lobbying in DC.” Everret held out a sheet of paper. “If you hurry, you can still catch your flight.”
“My secretary got you the last seat on American Airlines, 11:25am flight out of Philly. You’ll arrive in Georgetown in time for dinner.”
“DC? Kentucky? Texas? South Carolina.”
”You missed one. The Caymans.”
For a moment, Ryder almost agreed. Anywhere in the Carribean was close to Saint Lucia. Sometimes, Billy Lee was all he thought about. It was even worse at night with the lights turned off.
“You’re crazy. I need to pack. There’s barely enough time to get to the airport.”
Everret laughed. “Buy what you need when you get there and I’ll pick up the tab; but right now, there’s a taxi waiting downstairs. At this time of the day, it’ll be cheaper than taking a limo.”
“I can’t leave without telling anyone,” David protested.
“I do it all the time. Think of this trip as a spontaneous decision based on fuzzy logic. What do you call those decisions?”
“It depends if it’s recursively enumerable.”
He guided Ryder out the door of his office, closed the door, and made sure it was locked.
They were waiting at the elevator when Ryder remembered. “My cat? What about my cat”
“If you give me your keys, I’ll take care of it. You don’t mind it I ride your Harley while you’re away, do you?” Everret joked.
“Luckily, I walked this morning.”
“Good for you. I ought to walk myself.” He barged into the elevator.
“I have a class at 10:00 am, Jim.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll cover it personally.”
“You’re a dean! You don’t the first thing about truth values.”
Everret waited until the door closed. “David, if this shows promise… If you need time off, I can give you a sabbatical. Just don’t forget who gave it to you when you make your first billion.”
David was 20 miles from the airport when he remembered that he hadn’t given his keys to the Dean. Instead, he called Ms. Burton, who lived in the condominium next to his. Their cats were always together. He was 10 miles from the airport when he realized he was booked on a nine-hour flight with a long stopover in Miami. Traffic was horrendous, the meter already showed $198, and the Philadelphia airport was at least another 40 minutes away. A limousine would’ve been cheaper.
David hated Georgetown. It reminded him of a DisneyWorld-version of Myrtle Beach. The town was a cruiseship mecca, too crowded, and sprouting five and six-story buildings everywhere, all painted in standard Caribbean pink, blue, and white, with mock-colonial style predominating. It was flat, artificial, and boring.
The hotel he was staying at was his worst nightmare, the massive ‘Sand Castle’ aka the Ritz-Carlton Grand Cayman Seven Mile Beach. It had no redeeming features as far as he was concerned, a crowded shuttle from the airport not aiding his attitude. He was offered a complimentary mini-massage upon checking in, which should’ve helped, but he turned it down thinking there had to be a catch. His oceanfront room on the eighth floor was very nice, with a spectacular uninterrupted view of the beachfront, but as soon as he switched off the lights, all he could think about was Billy’s warm body squirming against him, boy-dick like a lever waiting to be pulled. He stared at the sea from the king-sized bed, wondering how far it was to Saint Lucia.
The next morning, the sun woke him up instead of his cat. He felt even worse than the day before. His head throbbed, his throat ached, and if he breathed too deeply, he had a coughing fit. He took a long hot shower in a ridiculously large enclosure, hoping it would alleviate the pressure inside his head. It made it throb even more. He rinsed out his briefs, squeezed out the water, and draped them over an air-conditioning outlet.
He was downstairs in the lobby at 8:55 am, wearing damp briefs and looking for a place to buy underwear when he saw Ling step out of an elevator. He ducked into a sunglasses shop and tried on a pair with obsidian lenses so she didn’t see him.
Ling wore a green and white dress, satiny silk swirling from her feet to her narrow hips with an inch of brown belly skin before a matching top that barely covered her breasts. Her long hair danced past her shoulders, shimmering as she walked hand in hand with a child who lagged behind, reluctantly dragging her feet. For a few seconds, David thought it was Billy, but the child was a girl.
Ling called her ‘Ying-ying,’ and she sounded agitated.
Ying was beautiful, a generous ten, certainly no older, more Caucasian than Asian, with straight brown hair and big solemn eyes, seeming shy, dusky mauve under her eyebrows, smoky-magenta lips. Skinny hips. Slender legs. White tight shorts and a form-revealing halter top with a coiling blue and purple dragon embroidered on the front and side. She was at least six inches taller than Billy—the top of her head was as high as Ying’s tits.
He seriously considered following them, the temptation to see Billy again easily overpowering good judgement. However, he had a breakfast meeting at 9:00 am, in a restaurant that he still had to find.
‘7’ overlooked the terrace and Seven Mile Beach. With a balmy morning beckonning, the last thing Ryder wanted to do was sit in chilly air-conditioned comfort , but as soon as he saw sunburned Rick Barovsky stand up to greet him, he smiled and changed his mind.
“You look worse than I do,” he said, shaking hands.
Barovsky smiled weakly. “I had a long night. This is Steve Smith, he’s our VP of new product development.” He nodded at his companion, who also looked tired. “Steve, this is David Ryder.”
“Jim is always talking about you. He calls you Princeton’s math genius.” Smith stuck out his hand, but stayed in his seat.
Ryder shook hands, but with growing distaste. He’d taken a liking to Barovsky during their on-line conference calls, but face-to-face he reminded him of a Vietnamese pig, red and peeling skin, rotund and covered with bristly black hair, and ears that stuck out. Only the snout was missing. On the other hand, Smith reminded him of his squint-eyed seventh-grade math teacher, officious with a tendency to meaness if a student had the wrong answer.
“We’ve already ordered,” Bavoksky said, flopping down into a metal-framed chair with legs that didn’t seem thick enough to bear his weight. He slid a menu across the table.
Ryder gaped at the prices. Orange juice $5.90, cappacino $9.50, a half a grapefruit $11.75.
“Unfortunately, the company’s not picking up the tab for this trip,” Barovsky went on.
David gulped. The night before he’d blithely handed over his credit card. His room had to cost at least $500 a night.
“The good news is we’ve got a small business grant so Uncle Sam’s paying.” Smith smirked and rubbed his fingers together. “We’re going over the top. Rick’s having a truffle-egg burger. I’m doing the Caribbean lobster frittata.”
With truffled egg burgers at $27.00 and Caribbean lobster frittata at $36.50, Ryder scanned the menu for something cheaper. He settled on buttermilk pancakes with blueberry sauce for $18.00. It was on the kid’s menu too, priced at $15.00—it seemed like something Billy would eat.
By the time the food arrived, Barovsky had gone over the schedule, reviewed the goals for the weekend, shared seven dirty jokes about Polish women fucking African men, and was talking dinner reservations.
“I say we skip the hotel and go local,” Smith suggested.
“Works for me. I need to do some personal shopping downtown,” Ryder said, grateful that joke time had ended.
Barovsky winked. “I hear the best place is Merengue Town.”
Smith laughed. “Yeah, if you like underage Cuban hookers.”
“The boobs are smaller on Honduran girls,” Barovsky joked.
“Real small; like Chinese tits,” Smith agreed.
“If a man likes tight little pussies, this is the place.”
Ryder managed not to blush by having a coughing fit at the table.
“You don’t mind me smoking, do you?” Smith asked. He was sucking a slim Cuban cigar, barely a wisp of smoke at the end.
“He was at La Casa del Habano, yesterday,” Barovsky said. “He bought two dozen Cuaba Diademas…”
“There’s only five in a box,” Smith interjected.
“So it was 20. Four fucking boxes cost him five-hundred bucks.
“Four fifty four actually.”
“Whatever! The only problem is he’s got to finish the fuckers before he goes home. Even if he can smuggle them into the States, his wife won’t let him smoke.”
Ryder smiled weakly. Smith’s cigar smelled awful. He blinked, his eyes watering continuously, wishing he’d stayed in Princeton for the weekend. His cat was better company.
Barovsky delayed until the waiter departed. Then, he smirked at Smith. “Those cigars are bigger than your dick.”
Smith blew smoke at him, forking through his frittata to find morsels of lobster. “At least mine fits,” he muttered, glaring at his supposed subordinate.
“You’re open-minded, aren’t you Dave?” Barovsky inquired, as if asking ‘Democrat or Republican.’
“I’m surrounded by liberal academics; I have to be.”
“Here’s the deal. What happens in the Caymans stays in the Caymans.”
Ryder thought about saying ‘within reason.’ Instead, he nodded.
“Not a word outside the three of us?” Smith added. “I’m talking 100 percent nondisclosure.”
Curious, because Smith wasn’t at all like what Ryder expected given his discussions with Everret. He nodded again.
“We’re doing this outside the company for obvious reasons,” Barovsky began. “Based on your contribution so far, which has been really impressive by the way, we’re prepared to bring you in as an equal partner. A one-tenth share up front, but you have to earn it. Commit to going the distance and it’s yours.”
Ryder nodded yet again, disgusted as the other man masticated eggs and burger.
“What did you think of the last design?” Smith asked.
Ryder glanced at him and chose his words carefully. “You need a better way of addressing values.”
“Frankly, it sucked. It’s not even close. I made a diagram of what needs to happen.”
He unfolded his notes and spread three pages on the table. Barovsky examined them, still shoveling in burger.
“Everret’s right about you,” Smith observed, sitting back. He pulled on his earlobe. “You realize what this means for robotics, Professor?”
“A new paradigm?”
Smith leaned closer. “Compared to what we’re doing, the Honda Asimo is a worm brain in control of a person.”
“I’ve met people like that,” Ryder joked, looking right at him.
“With what we’re doing… Christ, every component can have artificial intelligence, all connected through a centralized system,” Barovsky explained.
“Definitely a new paradigm.”
Smith laughed. “Sarcastic bastard, aren’t you Professor? Of course, it’ll take years for that to happen, but this is the beginning.” He indicated Ryder’s notes.
Across the table, Barovsky yawned.
“You must’ve stayed up really late last night,” Ryder chided.
“I was with a girl.” Barovsky smirked, pausing to make sure he couldn’t be overheard. “What’s the youngest pussy you’ve had, Doc?” he whispered.
“My wife was 25 when we married. Why?”
“He didn’t ask about your wife,” Smith sneered. “You’re divorced, good looking, in great shape; I bet you get more than your fair share of college pussy, don’t you?”
“Faculty sleeping with students isn’t something that Princeton encourages.”
“Yeah, but it still goes on, doesn’t it? All those spoiled 18-year-olds looking for a father figure… needing extra credit to pass… some hanky panky in the faculty office…”
Ryder smiled weakly. “I make a point to leave my office door open when I’m with students.”
“Not much point in screwing a college student. Eighteen might as well be 38,” Barovsky derided.
“Rick’s into hairless pussies,” Smith confided, still smirking. “And I don’t mean shaved ones.”
“Thanks asshole,” Barovsky growled, but he grinned at Ryder. “I prefer sucking on tiny tits.”
“That’s what happens after you’ve fucked half the preteen hookers in Russia,” Smith joked.
“Eurasian girls are better,” Barovsky joked back.
Ryder kept his head down, stirring his $8.00 coffee. “I wouldn’t know.”
“No one gives a crap what happens here,” Barovsky declared, waving at the view.
“It’s like being in international waters,” Smith added. “You can get away with just about anything.”
About then, Ryder felt woozy. Greasy pancakes and sweet blueberry sauce didn’t help. He was so sick he skipped lunch, with only a slight improvement by the time Barovsky and Smith opened their first beers of the day. They were running a simulation of their latest design on a supercomputer in Texas and telling inebriated jokes when he went for a walk on the beach, heading north, away from the resorts. He intended to reach Northwest Point before he turned around.
With the sun blazing down and the salty trade wind clearing his sinuses, he soon found himself scanning the ocean, imagining what the Azure Dragon III looked like. Not surprisingly, he studied each group of sunbathers on the lookout for boys, but mostly thinking about Billy.
Breathing easier than he had in three weeks, he returned to the hotel, where he wandered the foyer for 22 minutes. Once, he was certain he saw Ling again, until the woman turned around. She stared right through him. He retreated into the bar, feeling like a pervert. He didn’t stay long—he was under-dressed in a pair of Made-in-China swim shorts that cost $85 at the hotel’s beach shop, and his sunburned shoulders earned several commiserating comments.
Dinner was at Blue by Eric Ripert, another Ritz restaurant, supposedly the best on the island with seafood in Le Bernardin tradition. It was expensive, even for four stars. Barovsky seemed to have an endless supply of dirty jokes. Smith was too drunk to sit up straight, but he still gorged on conch ceviche and sautéed wahoo, and drank most of a bottle of 2001 Château Lagrage Les fiefs de Lagrange.
“So who’s interested in some kid-pussy tonight?” Barovsky whispered while they waited for dessert to arrive.
“Count me in,” Smith whispered back.
“How about it, David?”
Smith smirked. “It’s made in China, but I’ve never had better.”
David gulped. “Here at the hotel?”
“On a yacht. The owner’s a friend of a friend,” Barovsky said, watching Ryder closely.
“Tell him the best part, Rick,” Smith smirked.
“You tell him.”
“The girl I had last night… she had a tattoo from her puss to her ass.” Smith licked his lips and lowered his voice even more. “A dragon… it’s head, okay,… it goes into her fucking cunt.”
“Jesus!” Ryder exclaimed, instantly blushing.
Barovsky smiled. “Now he’s interested, Steve.”
“The girls are so fuckin’ young they don’t slick up,” Smith jeered. “They use exotic oils. Fuckin’ incredible!”
It took David a few moments to think straight, for him to shrug ambivalently. Then, his cell-phone beeped from an incoming text message. With relief, he pulled it out of his pocket and opened it.
’21:00 Harley tower’
“Message from your wife?” Barovsky inquired with a leer.
“Huh? Nothing important!” David shook his head, staring at the message, forcing his finger to press ‘erase’.
“I bet he’s got some pussy lined up,” Smith chortled.
“Yeah, my cat. She puked up a hairball on the carpet, that’s all.” David’s hand shook as he shoved the cellphone in his pocket.
“How about a ten-year-old pussy?” Barovsky whispered. “Not a single hair, and she’ll suck your balls dry.”
David swallowed and shook his head.
“There’s one, she’s just eight years old? Flat as a fuckin’ boy. Fancy sticking it in a slit that tiny?”
David shook. “Not my cup of tea.”
“Why don’t you think about it during the taxi ride?” Smith suggested, getting to his feet.
“What about dessert?” David was looking forward to the sampler trio of ginger parfait, coconut sorbet, and soy sauce caramel.
“The best dessert I know is about this big,” Barovsky joked, his thumb and finger nearly touching.
“Mine barely fits ,” Smith added. He beckoned to the waiter.
“So use her butt,’’ Barovsky said, smacking his lips and pushing back his chair at the same time.
“It goes on room 817’s tab,” Smith said to the waiter who had hurried over with the bill.
They took a minivan taxi down West Bay Road to the Barcadere on Georgetown’s waterfront. Ryder took one look at the five mega-yachts docked at the harbor entrance, glanced at his watch, and decided; as if it was ever in doubt.
“I left in a hurry yesterday. I need to buy a few things,” he explained.
“Merengue Town is that-a-way,” Smith chortled, pointing at the departing taxi.
Barovsky shook his head. “Asshole!” He took Ryder’s arm. “Just try it. One time, Dave, and I promise you’ll be hooked for life.”
“There’s nothing Chinese girls won’t do,” Smith interrupted. “Mouth, pussy; hell, they’ll take it up the ass if you want.”
“Still not my cup of tea,” Ryder said.
“Ying-ying’s backdoor is something else,” Barovsky agreed. “Tight as a fist, and when she closes up on you… Wow!”
“I think I’ll take a rain check this time,” Ryder said. He wanted to walk away, but he couldn’t, not when he was shaking inside.
“It makes me wonder why anyone would want to fuck a boy,” Barovsky said with a snigger.
“Maybe boys are better in bed, Rick?” Smith taunted.
Ryder’s head snapped back, wondering whether he’d said something he shouldn’t have. He wanted to tell them that a boy climaxed hard if a man hit the right spot often enough.
“You turning into a fag, Smith?” Barovsky joked.
“What I mean is what if boys have got stronger muscles inside, or they’re tighter, or something?”
Barovsky laughed. “I’m all for fucking Jing-Wei’s ass, but if you want a dick in front, why don’t you find out first hand.”
“There’s a boy on board,” Smith explained. “We haven’t seen him yet. He’s supposed to be in training or something.”
“How about it, Dave? If girls don’t do it for you, maybe we can set you up with him,” Barovsky guffawed loudly.
Ryder inhaled, feeling his skin prickle all over as he clenched his fist. “Um… not tonight… Don’t let me stop you, though...”
It was all he could do to get the words out. Billy was still onboard the Azure Dragon III. It was the only explanation. Occam’s Razor; no assumptions required.
“You’re missing the opportunity of a lifetime. Skin like silk, no hair except on her head, flat as a board with a pussy about this big…” Barovsky barely parted his finger and thumb. “Just big enough to get your cock in.”
“If you don’t want to share with us, that eight-year-old sucks like a Hoover, plus there’s two other girls if you want puffy nipples. One’s eleven. She’s a cutie; got the tiniest little tits.” Smith’s arousal stuck out blatantly.
“I saw the thirteen-year-old on a video, fucking some nigger like there’s no tomorrow,” Barovsky smirked. “Fuckin’ baseball bats are smaller.”
“I thought you liked them bald,” Ryder jeered, unable to stop himself.
“She is. There’s no hair on any of them.”
“The best part’s the tattoo. It’s so fucking sexy. They’ve all got ‘em,” Smith added, really bulging in front.
Ryder seldom looked back when he had a goal, the same grim determination that completed his doctoral research after his committee advised he study something less difficult than integrating chaos theory, artificial intelligence, and encryption. The result was mindboggling—software that could modify itself to solve any encoded puzzle.
He walked across the parking lot, a self-imposed shortcut towards the downtown shopping area, where he thought the Harley tower would be. He ended up lost, surrounded by docks. To get back to the main road he had to divert through a boat storage yard, sailing boats perched on thin metal stands, paint-splattered tarpaulins, empty paint cans, and dried rollers under them. He reached the road and followed it along the waterfront, away from the marina.
“Has to be Billy,” he told himself again and again, but he still wasn’t sure.
Billy was sexy with his hard little penis. He kissed with his tongue, everywhere. Best of all was his glorious ass—so tight and hot. And he sucked after it came out. David could still see him smacking his lips, semen smears on his cheeks, dark eyes shining brightly. Billy hadn’t cared where his penis had been. And then there was the tattoo. Fucking incredible! He trembled at the thought.
There were 34 duty free stores selling perfume, jewelry, watches, and Cuban cigars, crowded with noisy tourists hurrying to get back on their cruise ships. He found expensive but nice tee-shirts at MargaritaVille, and picked out three for himself, bright pink, neon blue, and sunflower yellow, and then found matching ones in size ten, ideal for a ten-year-old boy.
He kept looking for Billy and Ling, examining every pretty woman, every child under twelve. What was it about a boy that made a man lose his mind? Boy-ass was part of it, David decided; unable to forget how Billy’s greasy anus slipped back and forth, popping over the head of his cock, clasping firmly before pulling his cock deeper, both man and boy gasping at the end, driving both of them insane with desire.
It was getting dark when he reached the tower over the Harley Davidson shop. Next door was Guy Harvey’s Restaurant and Grill. Ling had a window seat. She tapped on the glass to get Ryder’s attention when he strolled past.
Inside, the décor was fishy, underwater scenes painted by Harvey, stuffed gamefish nailed to the walls, everything on the menu cooked French Caribbean and purchased from the fishmarket across the street. She waved to Ryder as soon as he entered, and stood up to greet him. Not that he could’ve missed her; the restaurant was nearly empty at eight pm.
“Fancy meeting you here,” David stumbled.
She was alone. Dressed in island casual; Guy Harvey tee-shirt with an exotic blue marlin leaping out of the water, knee-high calico slacks, hair brushed back, a silver clasp with a turquoise dragon holding her long pony tail.
“He waited for you.”
David gulped. He hadn’t expected that, although he’d wished for nothing else nonstop. “I couldn’t stop thinking about him.”
“Actually, I was referring to Mr. Wang.” Then, she laughed. “Billy misses you too. He can’t sleep at night. I can’t imagine why.”
She snickered and gestured for him to sit down. He chose the seat next to her, rather than across, and fiddled with the hem of the sprawling white tablecloth.
“Xǐaopang’s a remarkable boy,” he mumbled, feeling hot all over.
“When he decides he wants something, it’s impossible to change his mind.”
“Dragons are stubborn.”
She smiled, picking at her seafood salad before she glanced up. “What else?”
David knew she was testing him.
“They’re honest and sensitive, and brave too.”
“Billy exactly! He was swimming last week and a reef shark came right up to him, a big one, as far away from him as you from me. And he ignored it.”
“He’s a feisty little guy,” David agreed.
“Dragons start things and keep them moving,” she added, carefully aligning her fork on her plate. “He’s Wu Xing; a Metal Dragon. Metal governs the Monkey, you understand.”
David nodded slightly, not at certain that he understood anything she’d just said, even though he’d thoroughly researched the Dragon. It was the only part of the Chinese Zodiac that interested him.
“He’ll always take charge in the bed.” Then, she smiled like it was funny.
He definitely understood that, but before he could think, one of the cruise ships in the harbor sounded imminent departure. It struck him that he was destined to be there at that very moment.
“Would you like some wine, Professor?”
“I’d rather see Billy,” David said humbly. He’d never felt so close to another person.
He could still remember the exquisite sensation of the rim of his cock gripping just inside Billy’s anus each time he pulled back. It stayed like that for a long while. Then, the boy’s hole stretched as nature intended, definitely not loose, but relaxed enough that he could slide his penis in and out easily. That was when Billy squeezed on him each time he withdrew, and he just about fainted because it felt so good.
“He talks about you all the time, Doctor Ryder.”
“Call me David, please.”
“He says he belongs with you…”
“Monkeys and dragons are compatible,” he said simply, gazing at the panorama beyond the glass, the Universe unfolding as stars appeared over the sea.
She smiled at him. “You’re happy at Princeton?”
“Not particularly. I haven’t been able to concentrate since… Not after… I’m sure you know what I mean…”
She templed her fingers, tip to tip, her eyes nearly closed. “You understand what the dragon tattoo means?” she asked, her voice low.
“Billy said he’s a dragon boy.” David hesitated.
She smiled again. “A dragon boy can charm a man to madness.”
“That would be me. I’ve been crazy since Christmas.” His gaze locked on her, far more beautiful than any student he’d had in his classes, but she was average next to her son. “What’s the dragon mean, Ling?”
“Monkeys are clever.”
She inclined her head. David shook his, more confused than ever. He could still see the spirals, the dragon tail looped possessively around Billy’s little anus, two swirls like claws grasping his tiny balls, embracing his pubis, extending up his penis, under his foreskin. There was no avoiding the obvious.
”He belongs to the dragon…”
The Azure Dragon, Wang, Mike, Billy, the video, blackmail; it all fell into place. He should’ve realized sooner.
She nodded. “It was his choice, and mine too. I got my tatoo when I turned nine.”
“Nine’s too young… I mean…”
“I started at eight. It’s different for boys. They’re trained after they’re tattooed.”
“To do what?”David asked, his face as hot as it’d been when he was sick.
“Why ask what you already know?”
“To do what?” he repeated nervously. He feared the worst was unspeakable, but how bad could it be?
She extended her hand, dropping a handful of colorful banknotes before she rose from her seat. “We’ll talk while we walk.”
He followed her out of the restaurant, the ocean’s freshness relieving his flushed face, but increasing his worry tenfold.
In the space of an hour, the tourist crowds had vanished, just a few locals doing business, the rest closing up shops and putting away racks of postcards and tee shirts. They walked on the ocean side of the road, listening to water lapping the concrete breakwater, painted with colorful grafitti at every street light.
“Two weeks ago, Xǐaopang started his training to become a luán tóng,” she said when no one could overhear.
“Tóng is boy.” It was one of the two dozen words David remembered from playing with Billy.
“Luán is beautiful. I know he told you what is ‘tuzki’,” she smiled.
David smiled too, remembering what Billy had been doing at the time. Of course, his mother knew everything; she’d watched the video.
“You have no problem with… um… what he does back there?” David asked awkwardly.
Ling smiled. “I have no problem with it. Boys having sex with men is an ancient tradition in China.”
“You’re very understanding.”
“My son’s destiny lies in that direction.”
“You don’t know that Billy is gay. He’s too young to be certain.”
“And too old not to know what he wants.” She stopped, looking into a tidal pool glistening in the moonlight. “Jijian is his way, David.”
“Jijian…” David repeated.
“Anal sex. He’s always liked it.”
“Um,.. okay…” He could hear Billy’s girlish giggle, telling him to ‘go in.’
“Xǐaopang started when he was five. Mr. Wang says the more a boy plays in the rear courtyard, the easier it is for him to open the gate.”
“Okay.” David was still not ready to believe a boy in kindergarten had anal sex.
She smiled. “He had a pigeon egg in him before he was six.”
“A jade egg. This big.” She showed him, her thumb and finger an inch apart. “It doesn’t hurt,” she said with more confidence than David could accept. “It grows bigger inside a boy until he must lay with men to be happy.”
“Okay, so Billy’s probably gay, I got it,” he interrupted.
“Now his hole is bigger, he needs you.”
“I need him too, Ling.”
She looked around her. “When his training is complete, he’ll live on the Azure Dragon 1. Mr. Wang has decided to keep it for boys.”
She smiled. “Azure dragon boys serve Cai Shen much better than black tigers.”
He’d heard ‘Cai Shen’ before. The rest was gibberish.
“Xǐaopang will bring the pleasure of the peach blossom to many men,” she continued.
David took a deep breath and figured it out. Deep down, he’d expected as much. “I have to see him again, Ling.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You seeded him three times; isn’t that enough?”
“I love him, Ling.”
“You left him alone when he needed you.”
“I love him.”
She looked into his eyes. “I know you do. You bring happiness to Xǐaopang.”
She turned away, walking briskly. David had to hurry to catch up.
At first glance, the Azure Dragon III was easily mistaken for its predecessor, but it was longer with a navy blue stripe. Onboard, the teak deck was newer looking. David took it all in, everything polished to perfection, nothing out of place, every line coiled with precision.
“What you said about him being with other men? You’re his mother! How can you do that?” he finally blurted out when he could no longer stand it.
She shrugged. “Xǐaopang serves Cai Shen. That is his life now.”
“What will happen to him?” But David already knew and the words caught in his throat.
“It depends on how much you love him,” Ling said calmly.
“Why did you send the message to meet you?”
She regarded him stoically. “It’s better that I show you.”
They went forward, skirting the main cabin and bridge deck, all the way to the galley door, where a stair led down to the crew’s quarters.
“Be very quiet,” Ling instructed, carefully opening a cabin door. She closed it again as soon as Ryder stepped through.
Inside, the dull red glow took some getting used to. A shadowy figure sat at a video console, staring ahead at a darkened window.
“We must talk very quietly,” Ling whispered, drawing David closer to the glass.
The window opened to a huge guest suite, even better appointed than the guest suite on the Azure Dragon I, even more avant-garde. David took in the scene before him and backed away. It was revolting, two men having sex with a little girl. Barovsky was kneeling on the bed, his cock buried deep in Jing-Wei’s tiny ass, grasping her narrow hips with both hands as he rammed her forward. Smith was fucking her vagina from underneath as she crouched over him. Both of them were fall-down drunk, face to face and laughing at each other as they tried to coordinate what they were doing.
David tried to make himself look away. Despite their clumsy, ill-timed thrusts, the little girl’s face was contorted in exquisite pain, writhing with every hard plunge into her slender abdomen. When the laughing stopped for a moment, he could hear her whimpering. She sounded like Billy; her muted cries of ‘more’ were just as urgent and filled with passion. He could hear their cocks, amplified as if a microphone was right next to the action, sucking wetly as the adult sex organs went in deeply. It was the same sound that Billy’s ass made. It made him uncomfortable.
“The Russian’s a pig, but she’s holding up okay,” the video operator said quietly.
David recognized Mike’s voice. His hair was unchanged, still close-cropped bristles, but white slacks and polo shirt replaced Goth black jeans and tee shirt.
“Ying’s in her garden,” Ling remarked, stepping up to the console. “Has she climaxed?”
“She jerked a couple of times when Barovsky was screwing her pussy. She might’ve cum, or he might’ve gone too deep. I had the volume turned down,” Mike replied matter-of-factly.
He devoted his attention to four video screens displaying instantaneous action from cameras surrounding the king-sized bed, adjusting one of them to focus on Smith’s face. It was red, straining, gasping heavily as his release rushed nearer. Two screens showed close-ups of adult penises assaulting the child, the other screen showed the mirror behind the bed.
“I told her to fake an orgasm so he’d finish quickly. It’s safer if the big one is in her ass,” Ling said.
The biggest monitor showed on Jing-Wei’s pale hairless mound and tattooed blue swirls, furry inflamed adult genitals contrasting starkly. Once, when Smith pulled back too far and his cock slipped out, David could see the dragon’s body curled around her vulva, tiny purple scales from her puffy mons to her tiny clitoral hood, the dragon’s glistening jaws opening with her fleshy labia as if disappearing into her vagina.
A moment later, Smith’s skinny latex-sheathed cock slid back in smoothly. David stifled a gasp, yet after only a few quick stabs, the little girl groaned loudly. She might have faked her orgasm earlier, but she wasn’t pretending now. She slammed against him, her slim thighs shaking, her mouth gaping as she writhed through her climax, hands and feet twitching. Smith didn’t slow down, fucking frantically.
“Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!” Smith groaned with her. The look on his face was close to panic.
“She’s working him with her pussy. He’s going to cum any second now,” Mike observed, zooming a camera in for a close-up of Smith’s face, before finally glancing over his shoulder. “Nǐ hǎo, Professor.”
David went red. “I thought you went back to China, Mike.”
“I have to work for Mr. Wang for two years.”
“You should consider it an honor to be on the Azure Dragon III,” Ling said in a school-teacher voice, nodding at the window as Smith grunted loudly.
Mike muttered under his breath, manipulating the video cameras, getting shots of Smith’s face and his clenching buttocks as he ejaculated, smothering the little girl with kisses.
“He’s gross, but she shouldn’t turn her face away when he tries to kiss her,” Mike said, pointing at the one-way window.
“He’s got bad breath,” Ling agreed, but she wasn’t happy about it, or Mike’s sour mood.
David kept his head down and watched the monitor as Smith’s cock jerked out of the little girl. Already deflating and not all that thick, the semen-filled sheath stayed inside her. He plucked out the loose slimy latex, reaching over to drop it on the carpet. Then, as if he knew he was being videotaped, Smith rubbed where his cock had just been, running his finger along her cleft until her vaginal juices covered it, parting her tiny puffy labia and toying with the swollen nub of her clitoris.
Immediately, she twitched again, her narrow pelvis jerking, lifting up, instinctively fucking, working against Smith’s finger.
“She’s still orgasmic,” Ling pointed out as Mike zoomed in even closer.
Up close, her tattoo was different than Billy’s. His dragon was aggressive, possessively embracing his sexual organs. The girl’s dragon looked mysterious, hazy like the guardian of a shadowy cave, not nearly as precise in execution.
“Xǐaopang has this to look forward to,” Mike said, his sneer for David’s benefit.
David, who was already worried, clenched his fists and didn’t reply. He stared at the monitor, at Smith’s finger now going all the way inside Jing-Wei’s prepubescent vagina. He’d done the same thing to Billy’s rectum. It was almost reassuring.
Ling regarded Mike with disgust. “He who rides a tiger is afraid to dismount."
She sounded less than sympathetic, and yet David’s ears pricked up. As he pondered the proverb, Barovsky fucked furiously, grunting as his crotch slammed against her buttocks. He’d done that to Billy too; he couldn’t help but be aroused just thinking about it. Billy’s body was unforgettable; incredibly tight at first, yet beyond the grasping muscle was a slippery tube, hot and very much alive.
Eight more thrusts and Barovsky finished, pouring out his reproductive fluid with a desperate look in his eyes. As the spasms faded, he clutched Jing-Wei’s slim hips, pulling her against him as he strained to fill her rectum. She looked bored; there was no other word to describe it.
“I didn’t realize it’s so different for a girl,” David muttered self-consciously.
“There’s little pleasure in it for her,” Ling said softly. “Boys enjoy anal sex for a reason.”
It was why Billy bucked wildly when David climaxed inside him, nodding eagerly. It was no secret he was delirious with joy, wanting all of the man’s semen inside him. His need was anatomical. Jing-Wei just let it happen and looked very uncomfortable in the process.
All he could think about was the pleasure he’d discovered inside Billy, the unbelievable pleasure. He could still feel Billy’s anus locked around his cock, incredibly tight at the rim, squeezing on him, holding him in, the incredible pressure all through his body as he squirted. When he finally softened enough, and Billy’s shudders of pleasure were over, Billy relaxed, releasing David’s cock with a teasing giggle. It plopped out, wet and slimy, followed by a satisfied gurgle.
With a satisfied grunt, Barovsky withdrew, abruptly separating his still-engorged cock from Jing-Wei’s reddened anus and pushing her onto Smith. Jing-Wei sniffled, keeping her face hidden under her arm.
“She ought to use an egg in her ass as well as her pussy,” Mike jeered.
“Egg?” David asked.
“I told you Billy used a porcelain egg to enlarge his rectum and strengthen his muscles. We do the same for a girl’s vagina,” Ling explained. “It helps, but Jing-Wei is still very tight; which is why we call her ‘small bird.’
“Won’t she be sore afterwards?” David muttered.
He wanted to ask about Billy, but he couldn’t ask his mother. In fact, he’d been frantic all the way back to Princeton. For a week, all he could think about was Billy’s abused hole, gaping open and crimson, so much semen inside his rectum that it dribbled down his thighs as he waddled to the door. He still worried.
“She’ll get over it in a day, just like Xǐaopang did.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt him.”
Mike looked up, visibly enjoying Ryder’s humiliation. “Pain is weakness leaving the body.”
Ling shook her head, still focused on the monitor. “You are right to be worried about Billy, Professor. A boy’s first time with a man is always difficult, but you were very gentle with him. That’s why he never cried.”
David smiled weakly. He’d tried to stay calm, but it hadn’t stopped him thrusting hard into Billy at the end. It was impossible not to—everything was so loose, and it all seemed so right.
Rebuked, Mike pushed another button on the console. “You want to see what are the others doing?”
The center video screen changed to three brown-skinned naked girls lying on a twin bed in a much smaller cabin. The two oldest girls were embracing, kissing each other as they squirmed together, while a third much-smaller girl had her face buried in the oldest girl’s tattooed crotch, getting occasional direction in Mandarin.
“Chuntao has a lot to learn—she arrived last week,” Ling explained, her voice almost a murmur.
“She’s beautiful,” David said.
The little girl might have been Billy’s younger sister. He could see her vulva, a tiny dusky slit in an ochre mound, no dragon in sight.
“Some grandmother-lesbian wanted an eight-year-old virgin. Chü’s on the other bed,” Mike added, smirking.
“He means Xǐaopang.” Ling frowned. “Chü’s a girl’s name. It means ‘chrysanthemum.’”
Mike switched the camera view to the side. Billy was stark naked, stretched out, skinny and suntanned, a rich golden hue from head to toe, his tattooed pubis in plain view. The dragon swirls were noticeably paler. The blue reminded David of stonewashed blue jeans. What had been vivid purple and red was now muted to pastel.
“He’s beautiful,” he murmured.
Ling heard him and nodded.
Then, with a slight tug, Billy retracted his foreskin. Without any shame at all, he absently tickled the tip with his fingers. The fiery glans stood out just like before. David stared at it.
Suddenly, Billy glanced up from the Harry Potter book he was reading.
“Jinjing, what is ‘b a r t e n d e r’?”
His voice was like a delicate reed flute. David melted, instantly bewitched, but the girls on the adjacent bed ignored him. Chuntao was licking now, long slow licks with her delicate pink tongue fully extended, lapping like a puppy against the girl’s smooth crotch.
“Jinjing…” Billy whispered, sounding nervous.
However, he was also curious. He watched the girls writhing together for almost a minute, all the while fingering his penis, pulling his foreskin over the end and stretching his tattooed boyhood into a skinny colorful noodle.
“Surrounded by naked girls and he’s totally uninterested,” Mike said with an unmistakable sneer.
David barely heard him. The camera zoomed in until Billy’s juvenile sex filled the screen. It was obvious Billy was used to masturbating in front of them. However, he took one deep breath after another as he watched Billy shamelessly tease his penis into erection. He didn’t stop until his tiny red knob was shiny like it was polished. Compared to the girls, his faded dragon was very detailed. It made him exotic, electrifying David, especially when he pulled back his foreskin to expose the little fireball.
The older girls were as shameless as Billy, arms, legs, and slender abdomens writhing together. Billy kept watching them as if he might suddenly become interested, but as soon as he stopped masturbating, his little dick deflated. It went from marginally erect to spongy in seconds, like air rushing out of a tire.
Mike smirked at David. “Jinjing and Chuntao were fucking with that double-end dildo before you came in. It was hot, but the little homo couldn’t keep it stiff then either.”
Billy looked up, visibly annoyed, almost as if he’d heard. Sullenly, he flipped at the floppy morsel between his thin tawny thighs. Instantly, the camera zoomed in, his foreskin still retracted far enough to see the tiny red mouth.
Ling voiced David’s thoughts. “Xǐaopang has no need of girls.”
David nodded, feeling pleased deep down inside. Being surrounded by naked girls had no effect on Billy, which was good because they didn’t excite him either. Maybe that was why the girls teased Billy, giggling and pointing at his disinterested cock drooped on his groin.
“What peach boy needs is a man’s cock in his ass,” Mike sneered, looking back at his professor.
Ling regarded Mike with contempt. “He should be sitting on the stool.”
Only then, David noticed the stool next to Billy’s bed. It was Asian, and it looked very old, its ornate legs carved from dark red wood. The burnished gold seat was a smooth round hollow with a raised hump in the middle. The blunt tip of a cow horn protruded through the center. What looked like red leather belts dangled underneath.
Mike smirked back at David, catching his eye. “Guess where the horn goes.”
The words sank in as David stared at the screen. He tried to tell himself, ‘surely not,’ but his cock ached at the thought. He could feel slimy juice drooling into his underwear. Then, little Chuntao said something in Chinese that made Billy scowl and quickly cup his hand over his genitals.
Mike chuckled. “She wants to know why he has prune between his legs.”
Billy’s testes were shriveled, a tiny wrinkled bump, smaller and darker than three months earlier. David should’ve noticed sooner. It looked as if the Caribbean sun had scorched them, yet it added to the allure of the little Eurasian boy, making him even more desirable.
“Better a prune than a goat scrotum,” Ling remarked pointedly, gesturing to David to follow her out.
The last thing he saw was Mike’s reddened face.
David stared into the night. He inhaled and let it out slowly. The sea was calm, barely a ripple as far as he could see. He blinked, and squeezed his eyes shut. Mucus echoed inside his head. Warm salty air didn’t help his breathing or his thoughts. He couldn’t stop thinking about the stool. It was barbaric.
“About that stool…” he began.
“Tradition is important to the Azure Dragon brand.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
“It is an ancient tradition for luán tóng,” Ling interrupted. “The stool Billy uses is 700 years old, from the Mongol era.”
“It belongs in a museum.”
“I see why he likes you,” Ling smiled. “The Great Toghun Temur used that horn to train his catamites. More than two thousand boys sat on it for him.”
“Two thousand.” David shivered at the thought.
He tried to put it out of his mind. The seat was so high that a boy wouldn’t be able to get off by himself. Even if he tried, his arms would get tired, and without rails for his feet the horn would go in eventually. Worse, the hump on the seat would force Billy’s buttocks apart when he sat on it. All the way down, his anus open so wide that...
“The horn screws up,” Ling went on.
He gulped. He’d noticed a bronze wheel underneath the stool. Suddenly, all he could think of was Billy struggling to accept the ever-thickening stake as it forced into his slim body, doing his best not to cry.
“Two palm widths is required for dragon boys,” she added.
“Eight inches! That’s huge!”
“It can be painful for a while,” she said bluntly. “Most boys are strapped down.”
“The bronze buckles are ancient,” she went on. “They’re placed at pressure points to increase obedience. Only at first, of course. Billy’s just started without the straps. He waited for you to return.”
He couldn’t help but feel bitter.
“Most boys sit willing after a day or two,” she added. “It doesn’t bother Billy now.”
“How much longer?” he began, his voice becoming noticeably louder.
“As long as it takes,” came her reply. After a moment, Ling smiled. “Mr. Wang is right; ancient Chinese sexual practices fascinate Westerners.”
“I’m not fascinated. It’s just…”
“The final centimeters can take a week or more.”
David swallowed saliva. At its base, the horn was well over two inches in diameter, but he had to know. “How far down does Billy go?”
“You wouldn’t hurt him at all now.” Before David could comment, she added. “You saw Barovsky with Jing-Wei. Do you want him unprepared?”
David said nothing. He watched a ferry crossing the harbor.
“On the way here, you said dragons serve Cai Shen better than black tigers,” he began.
Ling nodded. “Cai Shen’s children are marked for life, both boys and girls. There are black tigers and azure dragons. The dragon is Mr. Wang’s sign. Billy’s is special because of who he is.”
Child prostitutes tattooed with black tigers and azure dragons he could deal with, not little boys sitting on barbaric stools to prepare themselves for men…
“It was Billy’s choice to be a dragon boy.” She stopped the discussion by stepping back, facing into the fading ocean breeze.
David leaned against the coaming, teak varnished so much it looked like glass. He shook his head, thinking, ‘I would never hurt Billy like that.’
“Someone must take care of Xǐaopang; someone who he can trust. Someone he likes very much. Mr. Wang thinks it should be you,” Ling said, scrutinizing David’s eyes.
“Part of your job will be to train him in the manner of Shanghai boys.”
David groaned deep down inside. “You want me to put him on the stool?”
“It’s best that someone he cares for prepares him.”
“I can’t do that.”
“I promise it’s not as bad as you think. Once you see him sit on it, you will love him even more.”
“I doubt it.”
“For a monkey, you are stubborn. Watch one time, and you will change your mind. There is a reason why the Great Toghun Temur used it on the boys he loved.”
“He preferred loose asses?”
She laughed. “You will too after you hear my son’s cries of ecstasy. However, you will like even more that his muscles grow stronger at the same time.”
“Maybe…” he relented.
“After you have stretched his body to the limit, you will be glad that the horn has been inside him.”
“Except I can’t do it to him… those men downstairs, they’re pigs! I won’t do that to Billy.”
“Would you prefer Mike do it?”
If that was the backup plan, David hated it. He quickly shook his head. “Why me?” he finally asked.
“You know the answer better than I do.”
He smiled, grateful for the breeze. His head throbbed mercilessly. There was something in her voice than made David nervous. “What about Mr. Wang?”
“Xǐaopang is his favorite dragon.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s why he picked you. You love Xǐaopang. A boy’s guardian must love him more than anyone else.”
“Love? Is that what I caw downstairs…” David couldn’t say more. Thinking about what the two men did to the girl, sickened him. It was no different to what he’d done to Billy, all of it recorded in digital high-definition video.
She touched his shoulder. “I love my girls, the same as you love Billy.”
“You have sex with them?” David asked, swallowing bile and trying to focus.
She smiled ambiguously. “A flower cannot blossom without sunshine, nor a garden without love. I saw you nurturing Xǐaopang. You gave him happiness in your bed.”
David sighed. “I can’t.” He looked towards the bow.
“He won’t love you any less when he lies with other men.”
“What if I say no?”
“Mike will do it if there is no other way, but both I and Mr. Wang would prefer you agree. He has already made arrangements.”
“And you agreed to this?”
“It’s in Billy’s best interest.”
“No more proverbs if I say yes?” David said, sarcasm holding back anger at himself.
She smiled. “Like grains of sand, there are always proverbs. Billy needs you.”
“I need him too, but it’s too much to ask,” David said firmly, sounding as if he’d already decided. Suddenly, he sighed. “If I say yes...”
“It will be worth your time, David. Mr. Wang is very generous.” She paused. “When Billy’s with you, he will love only you,” she added pointedly.
He strangled a laugh. “For that, I’ll do whatever I have to.”
“It will be your job to get him ready. It won’t be easy. Not all men are like you. There are some like Barovksy who will steal my son’s childhood if he’s not prepared.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“ You will need to take care of him afterwards.”
“Afterwards…” The very idea made him sad.
“ Love heals any wound.”
David had to think about that.
“I don’t want to be involved in the rest of it… I’m not a traitor. I want no part in…” He hesitated, ‘blackmail’ on the tip of his tongue.
“Mike will run the video cameras.”
“I don’t want to know anything about the deals involved.”
“Mr. Wang always takes care of that. The Azure Dragon will have four boys. Your job during the day is to teach them and take care of them. At night, you will train them. Nothing more!”
David smiled. “I expect I’ll have my hands full with Billy by himself.”
She laughed. “Trust me, you’ll find time for four boys, but it will be a full time job.”
“The stool, I not sure about that part of it.”
“It’s an essential part of the training.”
“I don’t know if… I don’t know if I could do that to Billy, or any other boy.”
“Trust me, he likes sitting on it,” Ling interrupted. “The first time I put him on it, he cried for an hour, but only because he missed your cock in his hole.” She smiled teasingly. “You gave my son a fucking he’ll always remember.”
“But the stool… it’s huge!”
“Temur’s horn will prepare him for a grown man’s cock.”
“It’s a damned sight bigger than mine.”
“Some men are larger than you.”
“ An hour a day will strengthen his muscles and prepare him in delightful ways. That’s why our emperors always used stools with their boys.”
“I’m not sure I can do that to Billy.”
“Do it once, and the next time you’ll enjoy putting him on the stool.”
Before David could dispute that, she drew David’s attention to a taxi pulling up alongside the dock
“Mr. Wang is back from Beijing,” she announced.
The taxi door opened and Wang got out. He looked up and waved at the bridge deck before he leaned down to get something from inside the taxi. Instead of a carry-on bag, little boy about seven years old scrambled out, clutching a red and yellow backpack. Wang put his arm around him, fondly running his hand through the boy’s bristly hair.
“Jinhai. He’s Chuntao’s brother,” Ling added. “He was supposed to arrive with her.”
“Are they twins?” David asked.
He felt prickles on the nape of his neck. Jinhai had his sister’s delicate features, the same subtle blend of East and West, not Asian, not European, prominent cheek bones, dark eyes, and dark straight hair. Except for his hair, it was like watching a younger Billy as he looked around, inquisitive yet nervous.
“A year younger. They have different fathers.”
Suddenly, the boy plucked at the front of his white cotton shorts. There was something about the way he touched himself that caught David’s eye. He’d seen it before. Jinhai scratched for a moment or two before Wang leaned down to whisper. Jinhai lifted his hand, looking ashamed.
“He’s been tattooed?” David asked, feeling giddy.
“Yesterday morning. Chung didn’t want to do him until Mr. Wang saw him. A medical problem.”
“Nothing serious, I hope?”
“He has a testicle that hides inside,” Ling explained. “Does it excite you?” she asked quietly.
David nodded before he could stop himself.
The boy was like a frightened fawn, as Wang guided him onto the dock and up the stairs. Shortly, they joined Ling and David on the bridge deck.
“Jinhai, this is Professor Ryder, the man I was telling you about on the plane,” Wang said reassuringly, stroking through the boy’s sleek hair, smiling down at him affectionately like a grandfather would.
The boy giggled bashfully, looking at his feet yet unable to stop stealing glances. His eyes were big and dark like Billy’s, but more playful, as if daring David to tickle him.
“David, this is Jinhai.”
David nodded and waited for the boy to peek again. “Hello Jinhai.”
“He is a horse, pretty and charming, but moody. A lot like his sister,” Wang said with a knowing smile.
“Jinhai means golden sea,” Ling added.
The sea was a deep, dark blue mirror with a myriad stars and a few distant cruise ships, but Jinhai lit up the night. He was still very nervous, as androgynous as Billy even though his hair was much shorter. All of a sudden, everything came into focus. It was as if Jinhai carried a sign that said ‘I’m as much girl as boy. ‘
“He was bred to desire his own sex,” Wang said, anticipating.
David’s head jerked up. “Bred?”
“You know his father quite well.”
David frowned. He couldn’t take his eyes off Jinhai, not even for a second. Flawless complexion, full red kissable lips.
“James Everret.” Wang smiled at David’s bewilderment. “There are ways to impregnate a womb without a penis penetrating the vagina.”
“I think we should call him Jimmy,” Ling suggested, taking the little boy’s hands and drawing him closer.
“Jimmy… Jinhai…” Wang mulled it over. He nodded and muttered something that sounded like ‘jijian.’ (anal intercourse, in case you’ve forgotten)
She looked the boy up and down, even turning over his hands. “He has Jenny’s chubby fingers.” She lifted his chin, stroking his velvety cheek. “Is it done?”
“I took your advice,” Wang added, still thoughtful.
“One is lonely.”
David pondered, but Ling squatted, already tugging down the boy’s baggy shorts. Jimmy wasn’t wearing anything underneath. His newly made tattoo was dark, like Billy’s had been three months earlier. It wasn’t nearly as blue. His thin penis was like a worm, seeming even longer with its overhanging foreskin.
“I asked Chung to use more red so it would look thicker,” Wang explained.
It was mauve and magenta mixed with purple, still bluish in parts.
All the while, David stared at a polished brass figure-eight ring tight against Jimmy’s groin. His penis passed through one hole while the other clamped on the little scrotum, the loose skin pulled through the center.
Ling wasn’t surprised in the slightest, though she smiled enigmatically as she deftly unfastened a clasp, opening the hinged ring. “Beautiful,” she said quietly.
She lowered the boy’s shorts to his ankles, nudging the boy’s knees apart. His pubis was purple and puffy, making it seem pudgier than Billy’s. David liked Billy’s azure-hued tattoo more.
“A pouch without marbles makes an interesting variation, wouldn’t you agree, David?” she teased.
David wasn’t sure he heard right. Unlike Billy’s little round pouch, there was nothing under Jimmy’s penis, just inflamed skin wrinkles and two purple spirals. She smoothed out the wrinkles to prove her point.
“His cock is a hen without eggs,” Wang agreed with a smile.
“Definitely different…” David muttered, still disbelieving, but the evidence was irrefutable. They’d castrated the boy.
The ring dangled from a silk cord tied around the boy’s waist. She moved it aside and pulled down on skin folds to prove there was nothing inside, sending another tremble through David.
“He’s a cute little guy,” he said, unable to hide his arousal.
“It is always the beautiful bird which gets caged,” Wang said from behind him.
“David thinks we have ruined him,” Ling smiled. “His eggs are like ovaries, safe inside him.”
Wang nodded confirmation. “A simple operation to bring them back out when he’s old enough to need them.”
Ling gently caressed the boy’s slender thighs. David stepped closer to get a better look as her hand moved steadily higher until her fingers lightly stroked the boy’s penis. Jimmy glanced nervously at Wang as his body responded. Like Billy, he was easily aroused, only a few seconds before his stiffening penis lifted up from his groin.
“Everything else works okay,” David added, choosing his words because he was still unsure. Nothing underneath. Nothing!
“An empty purse has no use, but he’s still nánhái,” Wang said.
“Nánhái is a male child,” Ling explained.
She pulled back on the little boy’s prepuce, exposing the start of the tiny helmet, no more than a glimpse of crimson. It was darker than it would normally be, not nearly as red as Billy’s fiery glans.
“He has plenty to play with,” Wang observed with a smirk.
Jimmy’s penis was already bigger than Billy’s erection and it wasn’t fully hard. It was at least a half inch longer, so thin that it seemed delicate compared to Billy’s sturdy thickness.
“He excites you, doesn’t he David,” Ling teased, working the loose skin on the boy’s penis.
The skinny little cock was so appetizing that David could almost taste it. It was all he could do not to lick his lips.
Her hand went up and down slowly, pulling the foreskin back each time, making a point of exposing the tip, not forcing the head through, consciously stretching the supple skin-nozzle. Finally, with a deft flick of her fingers, the shiny crimson head popped out, and Jimmy winced.
“He’s agreed, by the way, Mr. Wang.”
Wang nodded. “When Fate throws a dagger at you, there are only two ways to catch it: by the blade or by the handle. You’ve made a wise choice, Doctor Ryder. You will make Xǐaopang a very happy boy. And Jimmy too.”
“Ling said there’ll be four boys?”
“Jerry is already onboard the Azure Dragon I. I think you’ll like him a lot,” Wang chuckled. “He wants a motor cycle for his next birthday.”
“He’s 13, but he’s small for his age,” Ling added, smiling too.
“What’s so amusing?”
“He’ll tire you out,” Ling replied. “He likes to be ridden hard.”
“And the fourth boy?” David asked. “I’m guessing a boy aged between Billy and Jerry.”
“Perhaps younger than Jimmy. I haven’t decided,” Wang shrugged.
“It’s important to plan for the future,” Ling added.
David tried to convince himself he was only curious, but his penis was rigid, as hard as it had been with Billy, so hard it ached. He couldn’t stop shaking as he knelt down next to Ling. He reached out, his hand replacing hers. He caressed Jimmy’s plump pubis, the flesh swollen around the freshly made tattoo, hot and sore looking. He barely touched the little erection. Jimmy trembled.
“My dwagon hurts,” he murmured.
“I’m sorry,” David said, stroking as gently as he could. “I promise it’ll go away soon.”
Jimmy glanced up at Wang, who nodded back. “He bweaves fire for Cai Shen.”
David smiled, feeling the boy’s rigid core, lightly fingering its delicate sheath. It was definitely on the thin side, yet it felt so much like Billy’s penis that his hand trembled. He squeezed the bulbous tip between his thumb and first finger and the boy quivered, pulling away slightly.
“Can I see your dragon’s fire?”
Jimmy nodded and David very carefully eased back the boy’s foreskin. The head was uniformly crimson, no flames, not nearly as startling as Billy’s, even though the bloated tip flared out at the rim like a helmet. It was noticeably wider than the rest of the shaft. Billy’s glans was like a cherry plopped on a fleshy thick wedge, so small it couldn’t keep the excess skin bunched up behind.
As David fondled the seven-year-old penis, it grew harder and longer, until it curved away from Jimmy’s slim body. He squeezed gently on the thin shaft, deciding that it wasn’t half as stiff as Billy’s penis. However, the head flared out to keep the skin where David left it, making it even more prominent.
“His cock is like Cupid’s arrow,” Ling teased.
Wang chuckled. “Any man will fall in love when Jinhai’s barb is between his lips.”
David’s thoughts were elsewhere, although he liked it a lot. “Doesn’t this hurt him?” he asked, touching the ring carefully.
“The horn will hurt more,” she replied obscurely.
“It is easier to bend the body than the will, when the body is willing,” Wang remarked.
David nodded uncertainly. The little boy had muscles in his tummy, a firm ‘U’ down to his groin, just like an athlete or one of the Chinese boy-gymnasts he’d watched at Disneyworld five years earlier.
Still fondling, he pressed his little finger into the boy’s wrinkled scrotum. Just skin. Nothing more!
“Fate is influenced by good deeds,” Ling said from beside him.
David nodded, stroking the boy’s silky pubis, reaching under him. His scrotum was a dark wrinkled patch with two purple curls on either side
“Try to find his testes,” Wang suggested.
David pressed in his thumbs, locating the abdominal canals. Following the grooves between Jimmy’s firm little belly and thighs, he prodded gently all the way to the boy’s hips before he stopped. Nothing.
“He will keep them safely inside him until he starts puberty,” Wang remarked. “The risk is slight until then.”
David was barely able to stop himself from licking the boy’s front. It was perfect, mouthwatering like Billy’s compact little body. It was unblemished, not even a freckle, almond-hued skin with tiny nipples, a whorled outie belly button. He’d never liked outies until then. Suddenly, Ling placed the figure-eight ring in his hand.
“A small but necessary adjustment to nature’s perfection,” Wang said, firmness countenancing no opposition.
“Put the big ring on his penis first, then pull his scrotum through the small ring.” Ling said softly.
David grasped Jimmy’s penis, a thin fleshy tube, not nearly as thick as Billy’s boy cock, yet it seemed nearly twice the length when it was fully extended. His fingers danced along the rigid shaft, wanting only to reassure the trembling boy.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said softly
Someone had stamped a yīnyáng symbol into the center of the figure-eight, but it was missing two dots. He wondered what it meant, but now wasn’t the time to pursue the intricacies of Chinese symbolism. In an instant, he succumbed to heightened arousal. It was as if a primal urge took control of him. He carefully inserted the boy’s penis through the larger ring. Then, he pressed a silken fold of skin into the small ring, pulling more through, getting the device as close to the boy’s body as possible. He glanced up at Wang in time to see a nod of approval.
Jimmy shuffled his feet, but it didn’t seem to hurt otherwise.
“Now close it so it doesn’t come off,” Ling said firmly.
He was certain they were testing him. He slowly closed the hinge, careful not to pinch skin as it tightened. Jimmy winced. His heart thumped, his hand trembled. He fondled around the small ring. Just delicate skin. Warm, silky soft skin. He inhaled, smelling the boy’s privates, relishing the same sweet scent that Billy had. It was like baby's skin, arousing.
“Billy wears one too, but his balls are outside to make him look larger,” Ling said from behind him.
It didn’t take much imagination to figure out how Billy got his bulging groin.
“Doesn’t it affect his ability to have children?” he asked.
“That is not an issue for dragon boys, one way or the other,” Wang remarked.
David couldn’t stop himself from touching the flap of skin protruding through the ring. It felt different, not nearly as hot as when he’d first touched the boy’s scrotum.
“A boy’s pouch is prettier when it’s smaller, isn’t it David?” Wang said. He’d moved closer, looking down over David’s shoulder.
“I think it’s too tight,” David said guiltily.
He stopped molesting the little boy and stared instead. Jimmy’s scrotum, which was tiny before, was now a dark flap.
“The tighter the better. You need to be firm with him,” Wang added obscurely.
“Firmness isn’t a problem.” David playfully flipped at the bouncy erection to distract himself.
“Firmness starts at the root.”
“Put your finger inside him and you’ll see what she means,” Wang said.
“What a boy learns today, he practices tomorrow.”
David reached behind Jimmy, covering his bottom with one hand. His cheeks were small, silky soft, warm, firm, and rounded. He rubbed a finger very gently at the start of the boy’s crack. Jimmy tensed and tried to draw away, but Ling held his shoulder.
“He’s never been touched,” she explained.
“He hasn’t been with boys?” David asked nervously.
He wriggled his finger into the boy’s resilient dimple, much tighter than Billy’s anus, which opened with the slightest teasing
“Untouched doesn’t mean innocent,” Wang said.
“He’s played with Chuntao.” Ling didn’t elaborate.
“He needs to be seeded. It’s best if you did it as soon as possble,” Wang insisted.
David nodded. The boy’s anus knotted, resisting penetration. He circled the rim, wanting to add spit and push his finger through, but not in front of Ling and Wang.
“He’s a muscular little guy.”
Wang chuckled. “Every dragon boy learns Liu He Bai Fa as soon as he can walk. It is a form of Kung Fu. Master Wu Yi-Hui based it on the movements of water flowing down a mountain.”
David felt odd. He’d wondered when Billy moved against him, gracefully flowing, gushing, receding, energetic, resisting yet conforming. He’d felt as he he’d been in control, and yet the little boy had known exactly what to do, undulating, fast-changing, and unpredictable.
“You will learn it too; there’s no better way to exercise for a man or a boy,” Wang went on. “The mind and intention focus on each movement.”
David rubbed from Jimmy’s crack up his knobby spine, not understanding why, yet knowing he had to proceed slowly.
“Billy seemed…” His mind rushed through a thousand thoughts. “I don’t know, so willing. Like he was dreaming, not distracted, concentrating, I guess.”
“That is the way of Liu He Bai Fa,” Ling said.
“With a properly trained boy and powerful man, the pleasure for both has no bounds.”
“Tell me about it,” David joked.
“For Jimmy’s first time, you must be in control. You know from Billy what you need to do,” Wang said.
“I will…. Tomorrow morning if not tonight.”
“Talk to him, David,” Ling said distantly.
“You have a nice bottom,” David whispered, pressing his finger between Jimmy’s buttocks again.
“You make me bweave funny,” Jimmy murmured.
“Do you want my finger inside your bottom?”
Jimmy nodded slightly.
“I want you to concentrate, Jinhai,” Wang said quietly. “Water trickles on stone, seeking a way.”
Jimmy nodded. David felt a slight change, his finger stroking warm quivery skin.
“To find harmony with him, first find his heartbeat. Then, match it with your own. For a man and boy to join together, the mind and qi must coordinate with one’s body movement. When that part of Jinhai ‘s body responds, his whole existence is set into motion,” Wang went on.
“He feels softer, hotter,” David muttered.
“His qi is beginning to stir.”
“Talk to him David,” Ling encouraged.
“Feel the water ripple between two round stones, warmed by the sun,” David crooned, caressing with a feathery finger. “So smooth, so firm.” He drew his finger back, along the boy’s bumpy spine. “It runs over pebbles and into the crevice.”
He slid his finger back down the narrow crack, using his other hand to spread the boy’s cheeks apart impulsively stopping at the boy’s hole. His penis had to go inside it sooner or later, but how soon?
“Water flows around rocks, Jinhai,” Wang said softly. “Take his finger, let it sink into you.”
Jimmy sighed. David’s fingertip entered, penetrating to the first joint. It was dry, and the boy squirmed momentarily, but he didn’t withdraw.
“He’s so tight.”
He was hot too, like Billy was hot, but Billy was loose and slippery and David’s finger had glided in easily. He could feel Jimmy quivering, pinching on his finger tip, trying his best to relax his muscle.
“Let him watch you mate with Billy first,” Ling suggested with meaningful look at the long white couch around the Jacuzzi.
Ling smiled. “It is written in The Peach Blossom, there should eagerness to couple, even for a virgin boy. After he’s seen you make love to Billy, he’ll have an erection that persists through penetration.”
“From the same book, you will learn that Billy must still be carefully tended,” Wang said.
“Tended?” Not surprisingly, David directed his frown at Ling.
“It takes much training before a boy loves what a man offers.”
“Enjoy Jinhai, Professor. He will learn the way of the peach blossom once your seed is in him. Before dawn will be soon enough. He should watch you with Billy first,” Wang remarked, handing something to Ling before turning away.
“He’s a skinny little guy,” David mused, poking his finger at Jimmy’s flat belly.
For as far back as he could remember, he lusted after boys with wiry little bodies, just bone and muscle under taut sleek skin. Sexy and slim went hand in hand, like Billy. Jimmy was slim too, the same width from his chest to his thighs, his waist tapered like Billy’s, which was so narrow it made him look girlish.
“Chinese men have always preferred Shanghai boys for sex. It’s the same for Americans.”
He glanced up, suddenly aware that Ling was behind him, looking over his shoulder. With a single finger, he stroked around Jimmy’s hard cock. His pubis was puffy, but not only because of the tattoo. There wasn’t more than a few ounces of fat on the little boy; and it was all there. However, it wasn’t plump like a girl’s mons, just pudgy, soft and baby-smooth.
“A Shanghai boy has small balls and an easily stretched bottom hole,” she went on, smiling.
Not caring that she was watching, he placed his other hand on Jimmy’s small butt again. His bottom was firm, barely big enough to fill one hand, the sort of butt that David preferred. The sort of butt a man could easily fall in love with, a treasure trove even after prolonged plundering. He licked his lips. Suddenly, he wanted to fuck Jimmy. He wanted to do it right there on the couch in front of her, ram his cock into tight, virgin-boy ass and plow his bubbly butt. Nothing could be as tight as that little untouched rosebud.
“Jimmy’s mother is half-Manchurian so he will stay tight like a fist.” Ling could have been yards away instead of standing beside him.
It took all of David’s determination not to press Jimmy’s firm round cheeks apart and poke his finger into the crack. What was it she said about Manchurian boys? One thing was certain; he would enjoy preparing Jimmy’s precious hole to bear the brunt of his love.
It took all of his willpower to hold the boy away from him. He gazed at the small bare torso, marveling at the epitome of human beauty. From his minute pimpled nipples, down to his stiff thin dick and crimped pouch; just looking made David tremble. Even Jimmy’s cute dimpled belly button was arousing. Touching the warm silky skin made his heart pound, but knowing they’d fuck as soon as he got the boy stretched enough; that drove him wild. He would leave so much sperm in the little rectum that it would ooze out afterwards. Some of it would leak out during the night, just like it had with Billy.
“He’s so… so…” he sighed.
If he spent the night with Billy and Jimmy, he’d never leave them afterwards. He smiled, imagining what the faculty would think when he called the next morning to say he wouldn’t be returning. Of course, the Dean would ask why—he’d have to invent a reason…
“He is beautiful?” Ling suggested softly.
He slowly nodded, but like Billy, Jimmy transcended ‘beautiful.’ It was the whole Eurasian thing, the best of East and West. He searched for a word, steadfastly denying the boy was incredibly sexy because he wanted to stay faithful to Billy. He resisted desperately, wanting to cradle the slender boy, paw his tender parts, smother him with kisses. The only problem was his need for the younger boy grew steadily stronger, more than seemed humanly possible. His cock throbbed relentlessly. He watched himself stroking Jimmy’s small hand, fascinated by his tiny chubby fingers, his shy knowing smile.
“Divine,” he sighed. He felt strange saying it. It was true, but it wasn’t what he wanted to say at all.
In an instant, his face flushed. His eyes watered. If he squeezed them shut, his head almost exploded. With his head buzzing and unable to control his desire any longer, his gaze focused again on the boy’s privates, utterly spellbound. Jimmy was still aroused, his tattooed penis as unyielding as cast bronze, pointing up and out like a finger. If that wasn’t enough, he wanted to grasp underneath again, just to make sure. Only silken skin between his fingers. Nothing inside.
“You prefer boys with small balls,” Ling said distantly. She always seemed to know what he was thinking.
He managed to nod even as he wondered if the device was painful. It didn’t look as if it hurt; in fact, it looked normal, as if it Jimmy was always that way. It was tight, tidy… He took a deep breath. His cock ached, ramrod stiff.
“The smaller the better,” he murmured, unable to stop himself from fondling the little flap of skin dangling below.
“Sea salt and vinegar will make the skin shrivel. I’ll show you how a poultice . It’s up to you how much his pouch shrinks,” she added.
He stared at his fingers. The boy’s scrotum wasn’t all that big to begin with, but smaller would be even more erotic. His hand slipped between the boy’s thighs, one curious finger seeking the hot sleek furrow. Up and down, from scrotum to tailbone. Jimmy quivered when his fingertip finally grazed the pucker; it was definitely virgin territory.
“Billy’s got a nice tan, especially down here.” David chuckled even as his fingers moved back caressing silky ball skin.
“Dragon boys must have small pouches,” Ling remarked.
David’s head snapped up, realizing the same thing was being done to Billy. It was the only explanation.
“Better they have a prune than to curse manhood. In a few years, they will thank you,” she continued.
David nodded. Things had changed while he was gone. Bad things or good things, he couldn’t decide. All he knew was that Jimmy’s scrotum was so small it was barely male, little more than a ridge under his penis. It thrilled him even more that he couldn’t feel anything inside, just a small flap of skin. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He tugged playfully on the little erection, pleased that Jimmy’s small sex was standing up boldly. He was all boy despite what he was missing underneath.
“He should wear these while he watches you join with Billy.”
She held out two Tibetan beads of red carnelian with skillfully filigreed silver cups on the ends, tied with black cords. Their function was obvious, two precious eggs destined to begin the stretching process. They were no bigger than quail eggs.
“Being bigger inside is as important for a boy as a girl,” she added.
David inserted the beads. They went in easier than he expected, just a light push with his thumb to pop them through. He was certain that the same ones had been used on Billy before their first night together, and countless boys before him.
“He knows what happens with men and boys, doesn’t he?” he asked after he was sure the beads wouldn’t pop out again.
“I don’t know if…”
“He’s not as far along as Xǐaopang when he went to your cabin. He has a lot to learn in bed. You’ll need to teach him what to do,” Ling remarked. She might have been talking about teaching him how to tie his shoelaces.
It sent a shiver through him. “How’s Billy doing?”
She smiled to herself. “He’s a different boy now.”
“How?” David asked.
“Taking you inside him is all he thinks about.”
“Because of the horn?” He couldn’t help being cynical.
“With the horn, a boy learns how to pleasure a man. It also expands his rectum and strengthens his internal muscles. You’ll enjoy the change, but the difference is much more than that. The need to join with a man becomes stronger,” she said with a mysterious smile.
“I find that hard to believe after last time.”
“After you’ve seeded him again, you’ll understand.”
“They’ve left at last,” Wang said from behind her. “Yin-ying needs you.”
“How is she?”
“Some blood, and she’s sore behind.”
“Almost ready. A few minutes on the stool should be enough.”
“Have fun, David. This time you won’t need to be gentle with him,” Ling teased on her way down the stairs.
Finally, David was behind Billy again, his adult penis nudging his lover-boy's little behind. He was shaking with excitement, telling himself to relish every moment. Common sense said to take it slowly as well, but he couldn't. Hours, days, weeks, months; he'd dreamed about making love to Billy again, and now he had to make himself breath. It was all he could do to cautiously lean in, barely bringing his glans into contact with Billy's bare rump.
“The peach is juicy, Xǐaopang?” Ling teased.
Billy turned his head and smiled over his shoulder. His little bare rump glistened in the yellow light on the bridge-deck. Not completely naked, his dragon-embroidered silk shirt was pushed up his back.
“Something more exotic than sesame oil, I hope?” Wang teased.
“The soothing scent of ginger if I'm not mistaken,” Ling snickered.
David wasn't sure he'd heard right. And yet, as he inhaled, he caught the sweet smell and gasped, “Oh my!”
“A good choice for a bunny boy. Warm and earthy to match his juices, yet spicy enough to heat a man's lust,” Wang approved.
“I doubt David’s libido needs ginger’s assistance,” Ling teased.
Standing to the side, Jimmy giggled softly. The massive size of the man's erection surely awed the younger boy. It even looked huge to David when he glanced down, a thick throbbing stake of dark flesh surmounted by a fat crimson knob that even at that moment was pressing into Billy's tiny furrow. He stroked the boy's bare flanks, sleek and dark in the dim light, already cooling in the night air.
Everything had happened so quickly. He’d been awed the instant he saw Billy’s head appear in the stairway. Shaggy wet-headed like he’d stepped from the shower. His dark eyes settled on David immediately, unwavering. Then, beaming when he saw David smile, yet still to shy to take the first step. So was David, so they gazed at each other. What happened next was a blur. He’d all but ripped off Billy’s clothes, so great was his excitement. A few heartbeats after they’d hugged, and Billy offered his mouth for a perfunctory kiss. The boy had whispered. And David whispered back. Only three words each, important words that made up for being apart. He hugged Billy hard enough to break ribs, and the boy hugged back even harder. Oblivious to their audience, his hands roamed, retaking possession of the small lithe body just as his eyes gazed into Billy’s dark eyes. In an instant, he realized he’d stolen the boy from Wang, body, mind, and soul. Billy belonged to him.
“He will obey your every command once you make him yours again,” Wang intoned.
“Make love with him,” Ling said softly.
Such a slim waist, broadening to his chest, slender arms bracing himself. David's hands flowed under Billy’s silk shirt, rediscovering his Eurasian catamite, fingertips delicately grazing ribs, seeking tender nipples, caressing skin like the softest baby.
He heard Ling and Wang talking about the Azure Dragon I while he hugged and kissed Billy. They watched his hands roving, leaving no part of the boy’s now naked body untouched. After a while, he grasped Billy’s tattooed sex, hard and hot, and shockingly soft under his fingers, like a bone underneath.
There was much that needed to be done to revamp the yacht for service. In the background buzz, Ling pressed for high style, Wang committed to modern minimalism despite his penchant for children prepared in the Asian tradition. For several long minutes, David managed to hold his tongue, his own preference at odds. He was about to say he thought historical Chinese décor would add romance and mystery, and the yacht should be painted dark blue, when Billy wriggled his bottom enticingly. David instantly yielded to temptation, single-minded lust now that he could feel Billy's excitement, his burning need to join. It was the same for both of them.
“Enter like the tortoise, but don't stop,” Wang prompted.
“Be firm, but gentle,” Ling added.
David scarcely noticed. He nodded and pressed the head of his cock between Billy's buttocks. He felt it bulging into the boy's moist warmth and breathed deeply. It wasn’t tight like before. It wasn’t loose either. It made him think of spongy rubber, like the handles on his seldom-used gourmet kitchen utensils. If the horn was responsible, he would insist on Billy sitting on it frequently. So much for his western scruples.
“I need your tuzki,” David muttered.
Billy’s opening was slippery and hot, like before, but now it was infinitely more alive. It welcomed him, there was no other way to describe it, the delicious pressure, quivering, relaxing and inwardly squeezing. It didn't seem possible that the head of his penis was caught in a massaging nozzle. Then, he realized that Billy's hands were parting his cheeks, opening the way. Little fingertips guiding, holding the tip of his penis against his hole. It was too soon to do that, but he couldn't stop. He reacted instinctively, smearing his now copious slime along Billy's crack before gently massaging the fat knob into the boy's receptive anus, oozing even more into the oily excretion.
Billy muttered something in Chinese. David was certain he said the word 'huge'. Behind him, Wang chuckled.
“He thinks you've grown bigger since the last time,” he remarked.
David's head buzzed, concentrating on penetrating a little boy's anus, fully aware that their union was being scrutinized by a boy nearly two years younger. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world.
“Go in,” Billy murmured.
David had to smile.
Even Ling was amused. “A man is supposed to push before his companion does.”
David wasn't about to say no. Gently, yet firmly he pressed in. Billy met him resolutely. David groaned. In an instant, the rim of Billy's anus slipped over his glans. He was inside at last. He trembled as Billy tightened, locking him in, then he relaxed and David, who hadn't stopped pushing, penetrated two fabulous inches. He discovered a delicious embracing pressure, his cock burning.
“My god,” he groaned.
Before him, Billy giggled, relaxing and squeezing rhythmically. David froze, disbelieving that anything could feel so good. All three times before paled by comparison. On the tip, down the shaft, a hot pressure unlike any other, wet, slippery, throbbing inside Billy’s body.
“Our bunny boy learned the art of Shintao while he waited for you,” Wang explained.
Like a rippling fist grasping his sex, or tantalizing butterflies fluttering, delight so strong that he thought he could lose control any second.
“Push in,” Billy demanded breathlessly.
David rotated his hips and gave a firm inward thrust. Billy surged with him, properly pegged by David's unwavering cock.
“Shintao?” David muttered, not daring to penetrate farther.
“Beginning with the Great Khan, eunuch monks of the Shintao Monastery have taught the art of anal pleasure to the emperor's boys,” Wang explained.
“Don't!” David gasped. He was right on the edge.
“He is pulling you in?”
“His snake hisses in passion,” Ling teased. She fondled Jimmy's hair.
Jimmy looked up. “It feels good in Billy's chu-chu?”
“Very good,” David sighed, stroking Billy's bare back to resist his urge to fuck frantically.
Billy varied his technique, from pulsating squeezes to rippling tremors, to clamping so tightly that David thought he might actually pinch off his member. When the pressure eased, he pressed deeper, far enough inside that Billy gasped. Then, he eased back until the rim of the boy's anus just caught his penis before it came free.
“Stirring the pot stops rice from sticking to the bottom,” Wang suggested.
David barely nodded and waggled his cock, not even halfway inside Billy. The boy rewarded him with a shudder that turned into a groan.
“He hurt Billy?”
“Doing it that way brings a boy to the boil,” Ling explained, barely holding her amusement in check.
“Go deeper and fuck me,” Billy murmured.
Another firm squeeze left David trembling.
“Deeper… how much deeper?”
“Go beyond his gland. There is even more joy, around the bend,” Wang instructed. “That is what men do when they join with boys,”
Note: Redacted by L.A. H., on request of E. S. prior to release, Jan 6, 2013
Document Officer: Dept. W3, Agent # 074239
Prepared by: asadad addadw
Source: CIA internal memorandum H-36-2011
Status Report: Cai Shen and Corporate Espionage: The Role of Child Prostitution and Extortion
Consolidation of reports: Operation Pollyanna (see CF-B125.7), Operation Pollyanna (see CF-B125.7), ongoing Operation Kangaroo Rabbit.
Summary of paragraphs 1.1, 1.2, 2.2, 5.1, 5.2, 5.3, 6.2
1.1 Since 1992, the PRC has used child prostitutes and blackmail to obtain competitive advantage over the West, and the US in particular. Approximately two thirds of incidents involve businessmen visiting cities like Shanghai, with the remainder being sexual liaisons with underage Asian children in the US. Some 90 percent of contacts are directed by a pseudo-secret organization known as Cai Shen. (FN: Cai Shen is the ancient Chinese god of prosperity) On at least five separate occasions during from 1992 to 1998, Beijing officially denied Cai Shen’s existence, despite irrefutable evidence to the contrary.
1.2 Formed in 1979, shortly after China initiated its Four Modernizations program, the Prosperity Tribunal (PT) was charged with making China a major economic power by the early 21st century. PT targeted its initial efforts to developing commercial relationships, but beginning in 1988, it refocused. From then on, it achieved its goal in large part using its affiliates to steal intellectual property. Bribery, corruption, and increasingly extortion became commonplace. (See H-WQ-890, 973, and 1218, also the Doberman Report, 1999). In October, 1990, during a meeting with Senator Mitch Brown, J. Huang referred to the Prosperity Tribunal’s role as “we control Cai Shen,” but he later denied it.
Note: From the outset, the Prosperity Tribunal (PT) consisted of 1) a high ranking military official from COSTIND, the Chinese Commission of Science, Technology and Industry for National Defense, 2) a representative of the State Council of the PRC at the Ministerial level, and 3) a president of one of China’s largest companies, handpicked by Chi Shaun.
2.2 In late 1992, Microsoft corporate security videotaped their Senior VP, Mr. WWalker entering a luxury condominium in Vail, Colorado (See Pollyanna report page 5-9). At the time, the only occupant was an eleven-year-old Chinese female (CF-92-1), accompanying her (purported) father on a business visit to the US. Shortly thereafter, Walker provided advanced and highly detailed designs for 2.5 inch disk drives. Subsequent surveillance revealed CF-92-1 had three similar liaisons in 1993(see K-5961A, 1993), and seven in 1994, all with high ranking executives from such companies as Exxon, 3M, and Intel, plus five Federal Government officials (see K-4301A, 1994). The US Department of Commerce estimated the economic value of the corporate secrets revealed as a direct result of CF-92-1’s contacts (during 1992-95 alone) at over $3 billion. With as many as a dozen other children involved during this period, the net loss to the U.S. exceeded thirty billion dollars per year. However, due to the highly inflammatory nature, and the potential to damage the improving US-China relationship, the White House ordered immediately dismantling of Pollyanna and no further investigation of Cai Shen. Discreet monitoring continued, primarily in the DC-Boston corridor, funded by uncommitted/non-specified Agency monies with bi-annual reports to the Foreign Adversaries Committee of the Dept. of Commerce.
Six pages removed cover the period from 1993 to 2004
5.1 In 2004 alone, Cai Shen arranged over three dozen extortion contacts on the East Coast, perhaps as many as 100 nationwide. The modus operandi had become standard practice: a seemingly innocuous meeting between the target and a prepubescent child of Sino-Caucasian (Eurasian ) appearance, followed by a prearranged liaison a week or two later. Typically, this occurs in a discrete hotel during an unscheduled business trip. Over one or two days, the target is secretly videotaped in various forms of unprotected sexual activity with the child.
5.2 By 2005, surveillance indicated two separate groups working for Cai Shen. These groups provided children and conducted extortion as independent contractors, with Cai Shen identifying targets and outcome goals. Black Tiger, which began operating in 1992, is believed to have 15-20 children working out of four-six homes in high-end resorts, including Vail and Las Vegas. Blue Dragon is a relative newcomer (2004) with less than six children.
5.3 An increasing number of incidents involving young males (aged six to twelve), indicated Cai Shen’s expanded approach post-911. While meeting a wider range of deviant needs, the associated social stigma guarantees at least equal effectiveness. In May, 2005, field agents in New York identified three prepubescent males (CM-05-1, 2, and 3) in relationships with two senior IBM executives and one US Senator after wiretapping the Senator’s house in Marthas Vineyard. With the Senator’s work on four committees, the political implications are profound.
Page removed at the request of Marthas Vineyard
6.2 In 2006, the FBI received two separate reports of Cai Shen blackmailing faculty at Research-1 universities. Investigations focused on Harvard, MIT, Princeton, and U. Penn, in particular, a consequence of the high-level research undertaken in those institutions. On November 5th, 2007, CM-05-03 was observed with assss ssssssss President of Princeton University. (See video surveillance V-2007-PU-02-16). Most recently, Professor David Ryder also of Princeton an internationally recognized expert in cryptography, informed DOD internal security he had approached by WangLan He and a young Eurasian male (assigned CM-08-01), approximately nine years old. Ryder was instructed to fuck the crap out of the little boy and enjoy himself. After briefing, control passed to Robert Hastings, Interim Director of FAC. This became an ongoing operation (Kangaroo Rabbit), with multi-sector damage limitations in place. Refer to K-4W75-2009.