The Boneyard

By Jim Tee

Chapter 3

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, living or otherwise, is strictly coincidental and unintended. The story contains material directed to an adult audience and involves relationships, including sex, between adults and minors and minors and minors. It is not the author's intent to promote or otherwise condone such relationships even though they may be observed in reality.

If this type of literature offends you, or if you live in a state which places age limits on your right to access this type of material, please read no further.

You may contact the author at jimtee29@att.net. All e-mails, except spam, will be gratefully acknowledged.

I've gotten a few great e-mails regarding this story and I thank you all for the encouragement. Were it not for your kind remarks I would have stopped this storyline after the first chapter. Now that you have the 3rd Chapter, do you wish me to continue the story?

My god, a 12 year old! I had actually allowed myself to become infatuated by a 12 year old. Oh, I know he was almost 13, but one year doesn't change the fact that last night I messed around with a kid who wasn't even a teenager.

And my bosses son, no less! What the hell was I thinking about when I let that happen? While it was easy to chastise myself, another fact of the matter was that I actually enjoyed it! That's the part that bothers me most. Or is it that I am really most concerned about the possible consequences. In other words, if there were no serious unpleasant consequences, would I still be as upset with my behavior?

I heard my inner voice playing the role of devil's advocate.

"Be honest with yourself, Nate. You know you wouldn't. In actuality, you enjoyed not only the stimulation part of the affair, but you have a severe `crush' on the kid, too! Why else would you have invited him to participate in the golf clinic? And, why on earth are you on your way to give him a ride? His Dad would have given him a ride if you hadn't offered. If you weren't looking for an excuse to see him again in order to convince yourself that what happened last night is nothing but prologue to what you want to happen in the future, you wouldn't be on your way to the Phillips place.

"And, why not? Jim, while only 12 , has the mental maturity of a 25 year old. You talk to him using language most 12 year olds wouldn't understand. And he talks like , like....I don't know. How does he know about John Holmes; he wasn't even alive at the time Holmes died of AIDS. And what 12 year old is familiar with Sigmund Freud? And, where did he learn to kiss like that? And, while he wouldn't win every time, he is physically talented enough to give most tennis players your age a run for their money. He has a better grasp of science, math and computers than you do. What really is most important in this relationship, his chronological age or his mental maturity?

"In addition, let's face it. He's a hottie! He's extremely good looking with his black hair and black eyes peering at you from just inches away while you're debating about what to do next.. If you're not careful, you'll still be debating after he has long forgotten about you.

"And maybe, just maybe, you're wondering what it is about you that makes him want to be with you. He makes you feel good about yourself. This gorgeous hunk of maleness says he's in love with you."

"Yeah," I answered to myself, " that's one of the reasons I'm worried. How does this kid know what love is, let alone know that he's in love with me. Shit, I don't know what love is.

"Isn't there the possibility that his expression of love indicates that he's not as mature as I think he is?"

Seems the dichotomy of rational versus emotional behavior is at play here. Rationally, for a lot of good reasons, I want to run away from him. Emotionally, I want to run to him and make mad, passionate love.

The dialogue with myself ended as I entered the wrought iron gate and continued up the Phillips' driveway.

Jim was waiting with his golf clubs draped over his shoulder.

I reached over and opened the door for him.

"Good morning. Throw your clubs in the back seat and jump in."

"Could we put `em in the trunk? I don't want to use `em, unless I have to. I don't wanna be the rich, snotty-nosed kid barging in among the natives. Dad insisted that I take the damn things. I'd just as soon leave `em in your trunk if it's OK with you."

I raised the trunk as I said, "Sure, I understand. You're probably right...not that you're really a rich, snotty kid. Rich, yes; snotty kid, no way. You're already friends with some of these guys, I expect."

He dropped the clubs in the trunk, closed it, literally jumped in the waiting door, put two hands on the console between us, lifted himself up, leaned towards me and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek.

He sat back in his seat and said, "Good morning to you, too."

"Wow, what was that all about?" I asked.

"From here on out, I'm not gonna miss any opportunity to demonstrate how I feel about you. So, be prepared, buck-o."

"Does kissing me right in front of your house, seem like a good idea to you?"

"I didn't kiss you right in front of my house, I kissed you on your cheek. Besides, it made me feel good doin' it."

"Oh, so along with all your many talents, you're a comedian, too.

"Wait tell you see some of my other talents...they might surprise you."

"I dunno, Jim. I don't think anything you do will surprise me...horrify or terrify me, maybe. But surprise me, I don't think so.

"Boy, you're looking good this morning. You'd think you got a full night's sleep last night. But I know better. After our conversation with your Dad, where you gave up all of your rights as his child, in order to play golf, it had to be 1 a.m. before you got to bed."

"Yeah, and I didn't go to sleep right away either.

"Did you jack off last night before you went to sleep? I did, and you never left my mind. It was about the best jerk I've ever had,." Jim said.

"Geez, you're at least direct in your questions. I'll tell you the truth, `cause if we're gonna get to know one another, it's gotta be on the basis of mutual trust.

"Yeah, I jacked off. And, yeah, I was thinking of you. Does that make you feel better?"

"All I can say is that you wouldn't of had to do that if you had let it go last night. I would have taken care of the problem for you."

"Jim, I need to ask you a question. Do you think you're gay?"

"Shit. Queer as a three dollar bill, I'd say. How about you?"

"I didn't think we'd be having this kind of conversation this morning. I should have been better prepared. So, I'm gonna think out loud. Don't be surprised at what you hear.

"I've been married a little over four years. When I was about your age, I had sex with one other guy...you're gonna meet him this morning...his name is Max. All we did was play with one another, which usually ended in some kind of jack off session. We tried jacking off as many different ways as we could think of. I recall that on one occasion, we even jacked one another off to the music of Pink Floyd. Now that's a rhythm method!

"Anyway, it lasted about a year, maybe a little longer. There was no love involved in that relationship. We were good friends, not lovers. We still are good friends. We havn't been involved in any other sexual encounters together since then, and I've never had sex of any kind with any other male.

"I know, though, that it's not uncommon for teenagers to be somewhat promiscuous at your age. It wouldn't surprise me if the typical adult male had quite a few encounters with different sex partners as a teenager.

"I don't think sexual dalliances at your age are based on love. I think they're based on the need to experiment. It's normal. Most parents even expect it of their male children, though they'll never talk about it with their kids or anybody else. It's one of those quiet understandings that parents have with their kids.

"That's one of the problems, I repeat, just one of the problems I have with the relationship you think you want with me. I don't want a quickie, "bang, bang, thank you man" kind of engagement. I'm looking for love, as the song says, and I fear that, in your case, it's in the wrong place. I just find it difficult to believe that a 13 year old, no matter how mature and wise he is, or how well equipped he is down below, is seriously looking for love.

"That wasn't a question; you don't need to answer. Let me finish with what I want to say.

"What happened last night between you and me was wonderful for me, even though I couldn't go through with it. It made me realize that my marriage is lacking in a very important ingredient...sex...and that I'm going to have to do something about that very soon. If, for no other reason, simply to be able to seek out a sex partner that can love me as much as I can love him. It can't be a one-way street.

"So, the answer to your question, is yes. I'm gay. While I have suspected it for quite some time, it is because of you that I am sure about it. I'm gay. Or as you stated it, queer as a three dollar bill."

As I turned into a parking space in front of the entrance to the golf clinic, I quickly added, "We can continue this conversation later. It's probably a good idea for you to have some time to think about what I've said. Come on, I'll introduce you to some of the other guys in the clinic."

Jim knew nearly everyone except the adults. I introduced him to Max, our leader, and Joe, the third instructor. I went to grab a cup of coffee while Max and Jim were discussing what Jim can expect from the three instructors and how the clinic works.

Max generally taught the long and mid-irons, Joe worked with the kids on short irons and putting, and I worked with them on fairway woods and tee shots. Specialized shots, like sand traps and shots out of the rough were left to any of us, as needed. We each had about 5 kids in our groups. But it varied, depending on what Max thought was most needed for the student.

Students came and went with some regularity so it wasn't unusual to re-arrange the groups in order to keep them, more or less, workable. Typically we began a new student with tee shots, so as luck would have it, Jim joined my group on the practice tee. On this day I had only three other students, Alonzo (Al), Jeremy and Billy.

We always began with stretching and warm-up exercises for about 10 minutes. I asked Al, Jeremy and Billy to go ahead and begin hitting their drivers while I assessed Jim's swing. Most of the time, we worked with each kid, individually, as they were making shots. The exception was a student that had never held a club in their hand before. That took a bit more individual time.

I knew Jim had played golf with his father, who was an excellent golfer in his own right. I wasn't expecting that I'd have to start with the really elementary things like how to grip a golf club or how to address the ball.

I asked Jim to go ahead and hit a few balls.

His grip of the club was fine, but he was addressing the ball with an extreme open stance. As a result he was slicing the ball, when he hit it, from left to right.

We worked on his stance, backswing and downswing for about 15 minutes. The other boys were getting antsy and had begun some horse play rather than concentrate on what they were doing.

"OK, Jim, go ahead and practice on your own while I try to rein in these other hooligans."

"Well, it's about time," Billy pouted as I approached the group, ""Seems like you're awfully interested in helping out a guy who shouldn't be here in the first place. I thought this clinic was for kids who couldn't afford lessons. Jim Phillips doesn't qualify."

"He's here on my invitation, young man. Seems to me that you're sticking your nose into something that's none of your business. He is not being treated any different than the rest of you were on your first day at the clinic. Whatta ya' say we get back to doing something useful."

For the next 45 minutes I worked with each of the kids, including Jim, pointing out errors in their swing and how they might improve it.

"Go ahead and finish hitting the balls you've got left. Then we'll call it a day. You guys really worked hard this morning. You may not realize it, but all of you are getting better every time we get together. Jim, you've really made improvement in your swing today. If you keep that up you'll be teaching this clinic pretty soon."

I left the practice tee and walked back towards the office. Max was standing on the patio in front of the building.

"Hey, Buddy, you look intense," I said. "What are you thinking about?"

"Not much. I was just watching these kids swinging away at that little white pill. You know, it really is amazing how they've made so much progress. They're ready to go out and give it a try on a real golf course. How we gonna do that, Nate? We don't have the funds for green fees for fifteen or so kids."

"Ya' know, Max, the country club has no play allowed on Monday's except for caddies and employees. John Phillips, Jim's dad, is the president of the club. Maybe we could talk our way on the course as a form of a contribution to our golfing program.

"I know the members think the reason for no play on Monday's is to give the course a rest. But, hell, they don't have enough member play to require the course to recover. I think what it really amounts to is that it's a day off from the routine for the employees. I don't think we'd interfere with that.

"You want me to take a shot at it? I could stop and see John this afternoon when I take Jim back home."

"Do you really think there's a chance they'd agree to it? We could limit it to only the guys who show up every week for clinic. That would give us only two or three foursomes."

Just as Max was finishing his statement, I noticed a couple of guys in a stand-off out on the practice tee that I had just left. They looked like they were about ready to beat each other over the head with a club.

I ran out to the practice tee to break it up.

It was Jim and Billy Sanchez facing off with a club in their hand.

"WHOA, GUYS!" I yelled, "What the hell is going on here?"

They both put their clubs down and turned towards me.

"This little rich boy thinks his shit don't stink," Billy said.

"Well, it doesn't, you wetback pain in the ass!" responded Jim.

"Let's just settle down. You sure aren't gonna settle anything by beating one another with a golf club. Just think about the damage you'd do to the club if you were to beat it over the other guy's head. Max can't afford to lose any clubs.

"Now, what's the problem?"

"Ahh, it's nothin'," said Jim.

"Yeah, that's right, it was nothin," said Billy.

"OK, if you don't want to talk about it, let's call it a day. Billy, you shag on home. Jim, we'll be leaving in a minute.

"You guys need to realize that this kind of behavior is absolutely unacceptable here at the clinic, on a golf course, or anywhere else I can think of. If it happens a second time, both of you will be banned from attending the clinic.

"Do both of you understand me?"

Both boys nodded.

"Jim, you get in the car. I'll be there in a minute...soon as I talk to Max about this nonsense. Both of you disappoint me. I thought you had more sense than this."

"Well, Max, all I can say is that I broke it up. Neither one of them wanted to talk about it. I'll see if I can get an explanation from Jim on the way home. I told both of them that if it happens again, they will both be out of the clinic. Will you back me up on that?"

"Absolutely, Nate. I would have said the same thing. We can't afford anyone getting hurt out here. It would kill the clinic. There are folks around who are not supportive of the clinic for just this reason. They don't believe we can take kids from a really rotten environment and make golfers out them.

"Thanks, for taking care of the problem. You handled it perfectly.

"By the way, is there something going on between you and Jim? Have you seen the way he looks at you?"

"No, there's nothing going on between us. What's more, I'm not sure you have the qualifications to judge the meaning of how someone looks at another person," I answered.

As I turned to leave the office, Max said, "Time will tell, Nate. Time will tell."

I got in the Beemer and drove from the parking lot. Jim didn't say anything. He seemed to be in a pensive mood.

"You want to stop at the golden arches for something to eat? It's near lunchtime and you've been working pretty hard. When did you tell your folks you'd be back?"

"Yeah, let's stop for something. I need to talk to you, anyway. I told the folks I'd be back when I got back. They probably expect me before 3."

His mood had changed from pensive to sullen. There was little doubt he had something on his mind he wanted to unload.

We each ordered the double burger with a soda and fries. Jim wanted to pay for it, but I prevailed. We sat down at a corner table in the back. We were early for the lunch crowd so it wasn't very busy.

"You first," I said.

"I'm not sure how to start. I want you to know what that scuffle back there was all about, but I'm not sure where to start."

He was quiet for a moment, then said, "Here goes."

" I've known Billy Sanchez for quite a few years. When I advanced to fourth grade, from second, Billy was in fifth grade. The fourth and fifth graders had recess at the same time and we got to know one another. Then when they skipped me to eighth grade, we were in the same classroom. He is two years older than me.

"We became very close buddies in eighth grade. Umm, do you know what I mean?"

"Are you trying to tell me that you and Billy were, or are, jack off buddies?"

"Umm, maybe we were a little more than jack off buddies."

"We never got to the part where a guy sticks his dick up the other guy's butt, but everything else was fair game between us. You mentioned Pink Floyd this morning. Well, if we'd of thought about it, we'd a done it, too. We might have used a different part of our body to do the job than you and Max did, but it would have resulted in an orgasm. I don't think we ever had sex to music."

He looked at me with a twinkle in his eye and added, "I like the idea though. It's pretty inventive, don't you think?"

His sullen mood was obviously over. I got the impression that he was happy to have the confessional over with.

"What does that have to do with the argument you and he got into this morning?"

"I'm not sure you want to hear that part of the story," he said.

"Yeah, I do. Get on with it," I urged.

He hesitated a moment, as though he was thinking about alternative ways to say whatever it was he was going to say.

"Basically, he's jealous," he said simply, "and he doesn't know how to deal with it."

"Jealous...of whom... deal with what?"

"He's convinced that you and I are a number...that we're doing it together. Don't ask me how he figured out that we were doing what I hope we're gonna be doing.

"And, he's jealous of me. Can you believe it? He wants to be doing with you, what I hope you're gonna be doing with me."

"Oh, that's all I need. Not one, but two 13 year olds trying to get in my pants!

"I don't get it. Jim, I'm not a stud. Hell, I'm so square I'm sure I'd make a great carpenter. You're good looking, not me. Billy should be working on getting in your pants, not mine! .

"Duhhh. Nate, he's been in my pants and apparently ain't too excited about it. Geez, he was about ready to hit me over the head with a golf club.

"Besides, beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, my man. And I think you're a beautiful, sexy hunk. I don't care what other people think. So, put that in your Funk and Wagnall's and smoke it."

"My god, Jim. That's an expression that was used even before my time.

"You really think I'm a beautiful, sexy hunk, huh. I don't think I've ever had anyone say that to me before."

Jim interrupted, "There's more to it than that, Nate. While I have the opportunity I'm gonna lay some more on ya'.

"You obviously need to know some things about yourself that you don't realize. It really doesn't make any difference whether your beautiful or not. That's just frosting on the cake. The cake is what is important. And your cake is made with a lot of important ingredients. You're caring, considerate, intelligent, well-rounded, thoughtful and hung."

He chuckled at his own cleverness, and continued, "I ran out of neat adjectives and had to lighten it up a little. Really, Nate, you're just a super nice guy that I just happen to love.

"What do I have to do to convince you that I'm not lookin' at you and me as an overnighter. I've done all the experimenting I want. Billy wasn't the only guy I bedded. There were four or five others. But, when I quit doin' Billy, I quit `em all.

"Why did I do that? I know you have a hard time believing it. I'm this 13 year precocious little shit who can't possibly know what love is about. Maybe there are parts of it that I don't know about. But I know this: I love you. It's not just a sexual need. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I worry about you when time passes and I don't see or talk to you. I want to do things for you and I am at my happiest when you're near by.

"When I have erotic dreams about you, it's not you giving me satisfaction, it's me giving you satisfaction. I want to make you happy. I figure that in pleasing you, I please myself.

"It's a good thing I'm a smart little shit. I'd be flunking everything if I weren't; `cause I sit in my boring classes most of the day thinking about what you might be doing.

"I daydream about you and me living together, sharing our hopes and fears, and, yes, our love for one another.

"I know it's not possible now. But I'm gonna be out of high school in two years, maybe less. If I put my mind to it, I know I could be out in a year. I've even thought about the two of us going to college together. You in graduate school, me as an undergrad. I might even be able to pick up a Ph.D. about the same time as you do, seein' as your such an educational hack. I'm bright, but I'm not dumb. I know it's crazy, but I dream about it anyway.

"Does that sound like an `overnighter' to you? It sure as hell doesn't to me!"

We sat across the table looking at one another. Neither of us said anything for five minutes or so.

I broke the silence, "God, Jim, I'm overwhelmed. I don't know what to say. No one has ever talked to me like that."

We sat there, our eyes locked. I saw a little tear roll down Jim's cheek. I was about to break out into tears myself. I could feel my eyes getting puffy and I, too, had moisture forming in the corner of my eyes.

With both hands I reached over and grasped Jim's hands. We sat there holding hands as tightly as we could. I could sense that both of us were trying our damnedest not to break out in a full blown sob.

"Let's go," I said.

I had parked the Beemer in the back section of the parking lot, under a tree. As we approached I clicked the doors unlocked.

We got in the car, leaned towards one another and kissed. A quiet, gentle kiss, with our mouths open and our tongues slowly searching for one another's soul.

Our minds and tongues were as one. At that moment, without a word being said, we committed ourselves to one another. We were in love. We knew we had embarked on a difficult passage for which neither of us were prepared.

We sat back in our seats. Somewhere along the way I had grabbed Jim's hand. It could have been that Jim grabbed mine.

We sat, holding hands.

For a short while nothing was said. I don't know about Jim, but my mind was blank. I was trying to collect my thoughts, but all I could think about was how badly I needed and wanted Jim.

"You don't need to be home for a couple of hours. Do you know anywhere we can go and be alone?" I asked.

The die was cast. My body was aching for release. I had never, ever, felt such a need to hold another in my arms, to caress him, to touch him, to feel his warm naked body pressed against mine.

"There's a place at the edge of the city park where Billy and I used to go when we wanted to be alone. I haven't been there in six months, or so. It's called The Boneyard. We'll have a little walk from the back parking lot. There's a narrow path going down to the river that we rode our bikes on. There's seldom anyone there. It's so quiet you can hear someone coming from a mile away."

With quiet anticipation, I drove as fast as I could without gaining the attention of the police. I felt as though a dam had caved in somewhere in my mind and all the repressed thoughts of desire had flowed through, pushing aside all my doubts and fears, at least for the moment.

"Damn, Jim, how did you ride a bicycle done this little path? It looks more like a deer path than anything else."

"You have to watch out for the low branches, but it isn't too difficult. I wouldn't be surprised if deer come down here for a drink.

"We haven't got much further to go."

The path ended in a small cleared area where a 4' wide creek slowly drained into the river. One of those huge round wooden wire carriers that the electric company uses had found its way here and had been placed to one side. It was probably used as a table. Someone had also built a simple stone ringed fire pit. There was plenty of dead wood lying along the path to use for a fire. There were a couple of broken down kitchen chairs alongside the `table.' There were spotty patches of foot high weeds thriving in the clearing and surprisingly there was a very small sandy area forming the bank of the river. There was a lot of refuse on the banks of the creek....tin cans, tree limbs, plastic bottles, even an old rusty 55 gallon drum. It was a picture of the debris of a "civilized society."

"Do kids come down here to swim?" I asked.

"Hell no! God knows what kinda crap is coming down that creek. There used to be a chemical factory upstream. It's closed now, but you know about half-lives...I wouldn't stick my pinkie in that water. That's why this place is called The Boneyard. Other than the weeds, nothing else seems to be able to survive here."

I had brought an old blanket I kept in the trunk of the car. It was a habit I fostered while going to college and driving a ratty `ol `65 Ford Victoria. I was always afraid that car was gonna die somewhere between school and home. Illinois winters were not always as mild as they have been recently. I never did have an occasion to use it, except for picnics and the like.

I laid the blanket on the sandy part of the river, as far away from the creek as possible.

We sat down with our legs tucked Indian style, facing one another.

"Jim, I...."

I never got to finish the thought. Jim grabbed my arms, just below the elbows, and drew me towards him.

His lips found mine and gently, almost delicately, sought my tongue. I relaxed and reveled in his taste. My body was energized...I wanted more!

I laid him down on the blanket while we kissed. I felt his body against mine. A kinesthetic pleasure erupted from within me. We embraced while our tongues were involved in an erotic tango.

Jim began to undo the buttons of my shirt. I reached under his sweatshirt at his waist and began, with very light pressure, to search for his bellybutton. His skin was like velvet...soft and warm, hairless, but emanating electricity. I drew light circles around his belly button as our tongues were becoming more elastic.

My shirt was undone now. His hand was mirroring mine. I could feel my body shiver. Not epileptic, but the sensations were intense, nonetheless. His movements were serving as an aphrodisiac

He moved his hand up my stomach seeking to make my hard nipples even harder. He tenderly massaged my teats. First one, then the other. I followed suit. The feel of his hard nipples held between by thumb and forefinger served to excite me even more. The combination of our ministrations numbed my mind.

I released my lips long enough to tear his sweatshirt from his body. In short order he laid before me with his unclothed torso urging me on. I knew I was as hard as I've ever been. My erection was similar to the opening day of the Sears Tower. It was tall, and steel-hard, anticipating its first employment. I was about to experience sensations that, until now, had been foreign to me. My penis was aching within my briefs, crying for release.

As our lips met again, I could feel Jim's fingers working to release my belt buckle. I felt him reach for my zipper and slowly lower it while pressing firmly on my penis. His whole hand caressed my member. The tip was sticking out from under my briefs. He cuddled it with his thumb and forefinger.

I groaned my approval.

"I've been waiting a long time for this," he murmured in my ear, as he slid his hand under my briefs to engage my penis in a slow, deliberate motion.

He nibbled on my ear lobe and thrust his tongue into my ear.

It was a tickling sensation and I giggled like a four year old girl.

Now he grabbed the waistband of my briefs and was pulling them downward along with my pants. We were forming a mound of discarded clothes on the lower end of the blanket .

I sat up to meet his lips one more time and began to disrobe him in a similar fashion.

As I removed his jockeys his penis jumped out in the direction of his lower belly. It's reality was greater than my expectations. It was a tonic serving to intensify my desire.

We lowered ourselves to the blanket once more. I held both of our members in my hand as I slowly pressed against his body.

We kissed again and began a sensuous grinding, one penis rubbing against the other.

"Jim, I don't have the words to describe how badly I need you," I whispered. "I love you as I have never loved before."

I kissed his forehead, nose, lips and chin before moving downward to lick his breasts. I took his teat in my mouth and sucked, as if a babe seeking a feeding from his mother. My hand was making its way down to his penis. I grasped the base of his shaft with my thumb and enclosed the remainder with my hand.

He moaned softly, "Nate, please don't stop now."

His penis was longer than the width of my hand. The glans reached beyond my grasp and I stroked upward pulling loose skin with me until the head was covered. It was slightly thicker than I had imagined. I couldn't quite touch my thumb and forefinger together. I gently, but firmly, stroked up and down. The touch of his glans almost prompted my own orgasm. His penis was becoming somewhat slippery with pre-cum oozing from his slit.

I removed my intentions from one teat to the other and continued licking and sucking. Meanwhile the speed of my stroke increased.

I reversed my hand so that the glans was now covered by my thumb and forefinger. His body became taught. I increased the speed.

"Oh, Nate. I can't hold it much longer. Oh-h-h-h."

His back arched slightly. He closed his eyes. The first shot ended up on his chest. The second, nearly the same place. The third near his bellybutton. The fourth dibbled out on the full bush of his dark black pubic hair.

I slowed the stroke to a milking action, as I have always done to myself. A few dribbles continued out of the glistening slit of his penis, and I stopped.

I began to rub his sperm into his body. Gradually it dried and was gone.

I tenderly kissed him. His lips, nose, closed eyelids, back to his forehead, an earlobe. A series of soft, amorous, kisses

Jim was still breathing heavily with his eyes closed. There appeared to be a slight amount of sweat that had formed on his brow. I licked the sweat from his brow.

"I just knew that you would jack me off better than anybody ever has. Promise me that you will love me forever. I don't ever want anyone else touching me again.

"Now it's my turn."

He gently pushed me unto my back while beginning to tongue my breasts and nibble on my teats. Soon his hand sought my bellybutton. Then I felt his tongue plunging into my button, while his hand was following the thin line of hair leading downward towards the pubic bush and the hardness below. He caressed my balls and held them in his hand, as if weighing them, before rubbing them between his thumb and fingers.

"Jim, I almost came when I was jacking you off. If you don't finish the job soon, there won't be any job to finish."

Instead, he put one nut in his mouth. I could feel his tongue rotating and moving the ball around in his mouth. I was reaching an overload.

I came with a vengeance. The first shot reached my face. Then a series of successive shots, each with less intensity, but each with greater sensations flowing through my body.

Jim held my penis in his hand as the flow of fluid ended and I returned to earth. He had not stroked it all!

"You shot a hell of load, my love," he said, "but you're still hard as a rock. Do you want to cum again?"

"Yes. Please do it again. I want this feeling to continue forever."

He began by licking the spent cum from the head and shaft.

"Smells a little like bleach. Tastes a little salty, but good to the last drop."

And then he engulfed it in his mouth. His tongue was a whirlwind. I returned to a frenzy of sensations.

"Oh-h-h. Jim, it's incredible. I'm not gonna last long."

Within what seemed like seconds, but was probably minutes, I cried out, "Jim, I'm gonna cum. Unless you want a mouth...."

I had warned him too late. I pumped another three, or more, shots of cum in his mouth.

He continued to suck and swallow until I moaned, "Jim, you better stop. It's beginning to be too much. It's becoming tender as hell."

He removed his mouth from my penis, but immediately licking the cum from my stomach that was placed there the first time around.

"This stuff tastes so good, I can't stop eatin' it," he mumbled. "...even though it's a little old."

I placed my arms around his shoulders and pulled him up against my body. We laid there for a long while, saying nothing, doing nothing but holding one another tightly.

I didn't want to let go. His warm body against mine provided a comfort I had never felt before. The world could end now. It wouldn't have mattered. I had my love in my arms and we had given one another our bodies in confirmation of our love.

"It's gettin' late, Jim. Maybe we oughta get it in gear."

"Yeah, I guess. But I don't want to go."

"I know. Me, too. But they're gonna send the cops out looking for us pretty soon if I don't get you home. It's nearly 3 o'clock."

We stood. Gave one another a light kiss.

"I love you, Jim Phillips."

"I love you, Nate Williams."

We reached into the pile of clothes and began dressing ourselves to greet the outside world as lovers. It wasn't said, but we both knew it was a love that could not be announced. This was a love that brought almost unimaginable problems with it.

As we were walking along the trail from The Boneyard back to the car, I said, "How are we gonna see each other? Will you call me every night before you drop off to sleep? When can we get together again? You know we're gonna have to become liars to everyone but ourselves, don't you?"

"Geez, Nate. Ask one question at a time! I dunno the answer to any of `em. All I know is I love you. Somehow we will work it out.

"It bother's me, too, that we have to be liars. But I don't see an alternative.

"What are we gonna do about Billy? At times, he scares the hell out of me."