Date: Wed, 3 Mar 1999 19:50:18 -0500 (EST)
From: cutter57@email.com
Subject: "Touring With Richard" (Man/Teen)

Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction.  If any aspect of male/male
sex offends you or if you are averse to anything homosexual, please go
elsewhere.


			   TOURING WITH RICHARD
			   --------------------
	Copyright c 1999 by Robert J. Cutter - All Rights Reserved

The author retains all rights to this story. It is not permissible to
distribute it to any newsgroups and/or other web sites without the express
written consent and permission of the author.


I picked up the photographs of my recent trip to the Middle East the other
day and they have been sitting on my desk ever since.  I have not looked at
them.  I don't want to look at them.  It's not that it wasn't a great trip
- it was.  It's just that there will be many, many pictures of Richard in
the batch, and I don't know if I am ready to see his beautiful, smiling
face or his wonderful teenage body again without crying or getting overly
emotional.

It was an incredible seven days in Israel with Richard, his parents and his
younger brother and nothing I had ever experienced it my entire life was
quite like it.  Let me tell you about something about that trip and how it
has changed my life.  Maybe it will help me to feel better if I relate the
details of this extraordinary adventure.

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

The fall semester was finally over and I was on my way to Logan Airport to
catch a flight out of Boston to the Middle East.  I had a three-week break
before the spring semester would start and I would be spending two of those
weeks in the Israel, Jordan and Egypt trying to regroup my forces -
spiritual and emotional.

It had been a terrible year for me in all aspects of my life - financially,
socially and from the standpoint of my college teaching career.

Financially, my life was in complete turmoil.  My mother had died recently
and left all of her remaining money to my sister.  The thought of leaving
anything to her homosexual son was anathema to her.  My latest book of
poetry was an instant yachtsman's favorite - great for ballast.  And the
college where I taught - a small liberal arts school in the suburbs of
Boston - had already informed me that I would not be rehired for the next
school year; they reasoned that they didn't need yet another failed poet on
their faculty.

Socially, my life was also in turmoil.  My latest lover had walked out on
me at a recent Halloween party - he had found someone he liked better,
which translated into a man with more money and better hardware.  I had
always been the monogamous or homebody type since the time I had first
arrived at the conclusion I was gay.  I never played the field or prowled
for companionship; from my first encounter with my high school algebra
teacher to Harold the Great (as I called Mr. Latest) I had been true to my
partners and to myself.

As the airport shuttle van neared the airline terminal, I decided that I
would try to put all of this shit out of my mind and try to enjoy this
vacation.  With unemployment looming on the very near horizon the prospect
of another extended vacation in the foreseeable future was greatly in
doubt.

	Part One: Morning and Evening of the First Day (Beginning)
	-----------------------------------------------------------

The phone was ringing and the wind was howling.  My 7:00 AM wake-up call
was rousing me out of a sound sleep.  I was in Tel Aviv and the winds were
whipping off the Mediterranean.  I could hear the rain pelting the windows
of my hotel room.  I drew the drapes back and looked out onto an angry sea
and a horrible weather day.  "Welcome the Israel in Winter," I thought to
myself.  "It must have been like this for Jonah."  I had been warned of bad
weather but I never thought it would be this bad.

I hopped into the shower and tried to figure out what all the controls were
for.  God, did I hate these fucking foreign bathrooms!  I dressed warmly
and went down for the buffet breakfast.  The tour operator had said that
the driver would be by at 8:00 AM and that I should bring a bag for the
four nights that we would be on the road touring the northern part of the
country.  By 8:25 I was still waiting in the hotel lobby, watching people
and objects being blown down the street outside.  I was told that nothing
is on time in this country; apparently that was exactly right.

At 8:30 a burly looking man came into the hotel lobby and called out my
name.  I grabbed my bag and followed him out to a small van-like bus.  I
climbed on board, automatically saying my greetings to those already on;
apparently, I was the last person to be picked up from various hotels.  The
bus/van had sixteen seats and I spread myself out in the back.  The driver
introduced himself and gave out caps and itineraries for the next four
days.

That is when I first noticed Richard.

He was sitting near the window together with a younger boy; this second boy
looked nothing like Richard.  Of course, I didn't know his name at the
time.  There were two adults, man and woman, sitting behind the two boys.
Everyone on the bus was dressed in heavy rain gear and bulky clothes
because of the horrible weather and everyone looked more than a little
bedraggled.  Richard was all bundled up and was wearing a ball cap; the
only part of him I could see was his face and that was in deep shadow.  It
was a pleasant face and he seemed to be quite cute.  He and the other boy
smiled at me and I was captivated by his warm, caring smile.

When we reached our first stop of Yafo, the old city south of Tel Aviv, the
sun was shining and everyone left his or her raingear in the bus.  Richard
was wearing a baggy sweatshirt over a tee shirt, baggy jeans and sneakers.
Who perpetrated this "fashion" style?  I can understand if one wanted to
carry a concealed weapon, but who enticed young teens to look like thugs -
and such fucking ugly thugs at that?

I managed to stand near him as we saw the sights and I introduced myself
and he did the same.  I found out that he and his family were from Canada -
Vancouver, British Columbia in fact.  He was fifteen years old, would be
sixteen in a few months and was in the tenth grade.  He attended a high
school that was associated with the University of British Columbia.  The
other boy was his brother Matthew and was two years younger.

Richard was an extremely friendly kid - very outgoing, funny and full of
stories.  Since I was a college teacher and my profession was relating to
young people we hit it off very easily and rapidly.  He had the usual
teenage boy's affinity for things decidedly unusual.  He loved "South
Park", "The Simpsons", hockey and anything that was gory.  I could have
written a Ph.D. dissertation on "The Simpsons"; I know about fifty percent
of the episodes by heart.  This endeared me to Richard completely.  We kept
throwing quotes from various episodes at each other and laughing all the
while.

The fact that he was very cute certainly added to my attraction to him.  He
had dark blonde hair, green eyes and a very smooth complexion - it was
obvious that he did not yet shave regularly.  I could not really see any
details his body because of those damned bulky/baggy clothes.  I estimated
his height to be about 5'-10" and he seemed to be rather thin.

After leaving Yafo we motored north along the Mediterranean coast making a
number of stops along the way.  We visited the fabulous Roman ruins in
Ceasaria (the aqueduct and amphitheater were absolutely magnificent and
very well preserved), the ancient Crusader city of Akko (Acre) (with
fabulous old medieval buildings, churches and scary underground
passageways) and then finally on to the beautiful port city of Haifa.  It
rained off and on all day but we were able to get in much sightseeing.
Since it was late December, the sun set around 5 PM so our touring day was
shortened by the lack of daylight.

Late in the afternoon, just after sunset, we arrived at our hotel in Haifa,
which was very modern and apparently comfortable.  Everyone got his or her
room assignments and I went up to mine.  Since I was travelling deluxe
class I was assigned a suite, which consisted of very large bedroom, a
sitting room and two bathrooms.  There were two televisions in the rooms
and the hotel had supplied a large basket of fruit.  I thought this was
overkill for just one person but I accepted it gladly.  I quickly showered,
dressed and went down to the buffet dinner being served in the main dining
room.

I met some of the others in our group and we had a very pleasant meal.  The
food was nothing out of the ordinary but the company was very congenial.  I
maneuvered myself so that I sat right across from Richard as we ate dinner.
I watched how strangely he held his fork and knife as he ate.  Is this a
Canadian trait like saying "aboot" for "about" and ending almost every
sentence with "Eay?"  Still, I was very taken with him - he was so cute and
innocent looking.

He was siting next to his brother while his parents were sitting on my side
of the table.  We chatted about careers, sports, the American stock market
and our tour.  I found out both parents were lawyers who did a lot of
traveling with the family and that Richard wanted to attend college in the
Boston area.  Both parents opposed this move away from Canada even though
they had numerous relatives living in New England.

I told them that I was a college professor of English in the Boston area;
well, I still was until May.  I noticed Richard's eyes light up when I said
this and he smiled at both his parents.  I hadn't the foggiest notion what
all this all meant, and I quickly put it out of my mind.

After we left the dining room we sat around the lobby for a while and
chatted before saying our good nights.  I returned to my room, stripped
down to my under shorts and went into the sitting room.  I opened the fruit
basket (which also contained chocolates - I have an incredible sweet tooth)
and turned on the television.  I ate some fruit and candy and relaxed with
a cigarette.

I found Israeli television to be quite poor, probably because I do not
speak Hebrew.  I'm sure that it's not that good even in Hebrew.  Thank God
for CNN and for a few American programs that are broadcast in English with
Hebrew subtitle.  We Americans complain about all the crap we have on our
cable channels but believe me we have a greater variety of crap and more of
it than any other country in the world.  For this we should be grateful
(?).

There was a light tapping on my door.  I looked through the peephole and it
was Richard - cute, beguiling, adorable Richard.  What was he doing here?
And why?  I quickly threw on a pair of shorts and a top and opened the
door.

"Hi Richard," I said in a cheery voice.

"Hi," he said.  He was looking at his shoes but quickly raised his eyes to
look at me.  "Can I watch TV here with you?" he asked.  "You get different
channels from us.  Besides, my brother is bugging the sh...er...the crap
out of me."

"Okay," I responded somewhat surprised.  "Come on in and make yourself
comfortable."

"Great!  Thanks a lot, professor."  They had started calling me professor
at dinner.  He came into the sitting room and made himself comfortable on
the couch.  "Gee, you got a great suite here.  It's so roomy," he said as
he settled down.  You know how teenagers make themselves comfortable and
settle down - they spread themselves out completely.

"What some fruit or chocolate?" I asked.

"Sure."  He took a banana and an orange and began eating them.  I was
watching him intensely as he incessantly flipped though the twelve or so
channels on the television.  He was so fucking cute as he ate and flipped.
He settled on a rerun of "Seinfeld" in English with Hebrew and Arabic
subtitles.  We both laughed at the neurotic stupidity of George, the antics
of Kramer and the lack of shame of Elaine.  When the show was over, Richard
turned off the television, but did not get up to leave.  He swung around on
the couch and faced me, giving me a really big smile.  He had great teeth.
He had one knee up on the couch and his legs were spread very wide.  I
looked down at his crotch (as I am want to do when someone spreads out in
front of me) and saw a nice size bulge.  It definitely got me aroused!  I
know that teenage boys are almost perpetually hard so I didn't think it was
anything unusual.  Maybe that's why they wear those baggy clothes - it
conceals their constant boners.

"Are you married?" he asked, still with that great smile on his face.

"No." I replied, smiling back at him.  "I think I mentioned that at
dinner."

"Oh, yeah, you did.  Have you ever been married?"

"No, Richard, I have never been married."

He was quiet for a minute and looked at the now ravaged fruit basket.  "Can
I have another banana?"

"Sure, Richard, help yourself to anything you want."

He started to peel the banana and took a bite of it.  He chewed very slowly
and then swallowed.  He looked at me shyly, with that beautiful smile on
his face.  "I want you," he said is a low and rather husky voice.

Shit!  I almost dropped my fucking teeth!  I did drop my cigarette.
"What?" I said in a spluttering voice, trying to catch my breath a pick up
the cigarette from the couch at the same time.

"I said `I want you.'  Don't you understand that?"

"Oh, I understand it all right, Richard.  But is that what you really
mean?"

"I don't know what you think I mean but I honestly mean that I would like
you to, you know, to take me to bed with you tonight."

This statement just absolutely staggered me.  My mind was reeling.  I felt
myself gasping for breath.  I need a cold shower and I needed it fucking
immediately.

I looked at Richard.  He was sitting in the same position.  I put my hand
on the knee that was resting on the couch and looked directly into those
beautiful green eyes.  "Richard, that's an incredible request.  How do you
know that I would even want to, you know, take you to bed with me?"

He hesitated a moment, looked down at his bulging crotch and at mine, and
spoke in a very low voice.  "I know I'm gay.  I think I've known it for
about three years now.  I surf the net and look at gay sites and download
picture and even chat with other gay teens all around the world.  But I've
never - er - I haven't, you know, had any kind of sex in my life.
We...er...I've thought about it a lot and I think you're gay and
we...er...I would like you to be the first man to make love to me."

When he finished he looked directly into my eyes.  There was an intensity
there and a yearning there that I will never forget if I live to be one
hundred.  He smiled a half-smile at me and my heart just melted.  "Why do
you think I'm gay, Richard?  And why do you think that I would want to make
love to you?" I asked these questions in the most non-threatening way I
could.

"Well, we...er...I know you're not married and that you've never been
married.  I know you are very good looking for an older guy and you dress
beautifully and I can see that you have a great body underneath, you know,
your clothes and I know...er...that the way you speak and move is..."

"Let me stop you right there, Richard.  Just because I may or may not be
good looking, and just because I dress well and just because you think I
have a good body or from the way I speak, does not necessarily make me gay.
You are trading on stereotypes and that is something I really hate."  I was
rather vehement in my reply.

Richard just sat completely still.  He seemed to be stunned at my response.
I thought I saw his eyes begin to tear up slightly, but it could have been
just my imagination.  He continued to sit and stare at me for I don't know
how long.

"Okay," he said softly when he finally spoke.  He rose slowly and walked to
the door.  After he reached the door he put his hand on the knob and turned
it.  I was following his every movement as if I was in a trance.  He slowly
opened the door and then he turned to me.  "Good night, professor," he said
in a half choked, half-whispered voice.  "I guess I'll see you tomorrow at
breakfast."  He walked out of my room and closed the door quietly behind
him.

I was still sitting on the couch trying to get myself my feeling under
control.  Richard's statements had jolted me to the very core of my being.
Here was a cute, virgin teen asking me to have sex with him and I had said
no!  I couldn't believe that I had actually done that!  Me!  Me turning
down a chance to be with a cute boy, and a guilt-free one at that.  I
finally realized that I just could not take advantage of such a trusting
and innocent person at this time of his life or mine.  One more quickie was
not what I needed in my life and the possibilities of it developing into
more than that was strictly impossible.

Still I sat there on that couch, still in a state of shock.  I turned the
television on again and watched something about the Israeli government
falling.  I ate a persimmon from the fruit basket.

There was a knock on the door and it broke my stupor.  God!  This place was
certainly busy tonight.  I walked to the door and opened it.  There stood
Ruth, Richard's mother, hands on her hips and a very sour look on her face.

"May I come in, professor?" she asked with an iron smile on her face.  "We
need to talk about something."

"Something or someone?" I responded with more than a slight touch of malice
in my voice.  She gave me another of those steely smiles; the dimples on
her face looked absolutely frozen in place.  "Certainly Ruth.  Come in.
Can I get you anything?" I asked.

"No thanks," was her cold reply.  She was an attractive woman with blonde
hair and blue eye and a rather decent figure for being the mother of two
teenage boys.  She immediately seated herself on the couch, reached for the
remote and turned off the television.  She did not waste any time with
pleasantries.  "Richard is in his room crying his heart out.  What did you
say to him, professor?" she demanded.

I just stared at her and reached for a cigarette.  She made a face but I
lit it up anyway.  "Ruth, I'm going to be as honest with you as I can.
Richard started coming on to me tonight."

"Coming on to you?" she asked.

"Yes.  He proposed that we have sex together."

"And you rejected him!" she said straightforwardly.

"Of course I did.  He's a child and I said I was not ready."

She looked at me long and hard.  I was puffing away on that cigarette like
Betty Davis in "All About Eve".  I was very nervous and she knew it.

"That's why he's crying in his room now.  Because you rejected him!"

Again I was stunned beyond speech.  I tried to answer her; nothing came out
of my mouth but garbled sounds.

"Don't you find him attractive enough, professor?" she said with more than
a little venom in her voice.  "Don't you like maturing teenage boys?"

I was totally flabbergasted!  What the hell was she saying?  Was she upset
because I would not make love to her son?  This was just too fucking much!
I knew the Canadians were wrapped differently, but this was all just too
much for me to take!

"Ruth, what the hell are you trying to say?  I really don't understand!"

"I'm saying that Richard came over here tonight to be friendly to you and
to have you like him and you rejected him completely."  She took a deep
breath and slowed down somewhat in the rapid speed at which she was
talking.  "Okay, I think I see what your problem is."

"You do?  Because I don't, Ruth."

"Yes.  You don't understand why I would be defending Richard's actions,
right?"

"Yes, that's part of it.  The other part concerns Richard's actions
themselves."

"Good.  Let's clear up any misunderstanding that there is between us."  She
paused and took a deep breath and looked at me.  "May I have one of you
cigarettes?" she asked a bit timidly.

I gave her the pack and she lit up.  Probably a reformed smoker - or a
secret one.

"Harold and I know that Richard is gay.  It's really been no big secret.  I
think we've suspected since he was about eleven and well before he entered
puberty.  He's very cute, maybe even beautiful, and we know that there are
predators out there waiting for a nice young boy like him.  I believe
they're called...er...chickens-hawks or something like that and their prey
are called chickens.  Right?"

"Why are you looking at me like that Ruth.  I am not a chicken-hawk!  And
by he way, that's an archaic term.""

"Okay.  I understand that, professor.  But you are gay, aren't you?"

I really hesitated this time.  But there was no use trying to fool her.
She was a shrewd customer and knew her own mind.  "Okay.  I admit it."  I
took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  "Yes, Ruth, I am gay."

"Thank you, professor."  She looked at me with a sort of pleading look in
her face.  "Couldn't you take him to...er...bed with you and maybe
introduce him to gay...er...sex?  Couldn't you make an exception in
Richard's case, please.  He really needs you.  We all really need you.
Please?"  And then she started to cry.

If there is one thing that I cannot stand it is a woman crying.  A woman
crying grates on my nerves something awful.  It makes me nervous and
jittery and I begin to lose my patience almost immediately.  "Why does he
need me, Ruth?  I just don't understand this.  I don't understand the
circumstances of this whole undertaking or why I have to be the
experimenter or the person chosen to be to lead him into the so-called gay
world."

"We trust you, professor."

"And who is this `we' you keep speaking about?"  I was starting to lose
patience and she knew it!

"'We' is Harold, Matthew and myself," she said in a calm tone of voice now
that she had stopped her weeping.  "We all know, or at least we all
suspect, that Richard is gay and we want him to know.to know that we care
about him and...and to make his introduction to gay sex reassuring and
loving and everything he hoped it would be."

I had never had a mother say to me "Take my son, please!"  Most would have
wanted to killed me if they had known what I had done to their beloved
offspring.

"Ruth, let's speak logically here.  How...how do you know that I am that
person?  You've only known me for a few hours, for Christ's sake!  How can
you make a decision like that based on absolutely no facts...on nothing
really?"  I looked at her and maintained the eye contact.  "Did you send
him over here tonight, Ruth?"

She hesitated before she spoke again.  "We.all discussed it after you went
back to your room after dinner."

More of this fucking `we' shit!

"I know we've only just met.  But I've met a lot of people in my time; as
lawyers, Harold and I meet thousands of people every year, and...well, we
know.  We just know!"

I was silent for a minute.  I looked at her, I looked at the ceiling, I
puffed on my cigarette.  "Ruth, you're not setting me up are you?"

"Setting you up?" she asked back incredulously.

"Yeah, you know, setting me up for a fall.  Get the pervert kind of thing."

"Professor, that is very unkind of you to say such a thing.  Obviously you
don't know me very well."

"Obviously."

"I'm doing only what I think is best for Richard.  What we think is best
for Richard."  There was that fucking `we' shit again!

I was really in a quandary.  Do I accept her offer?  Is she serious about
this?  How could she be making a decision like this?  Was Richard really
willing or was he being coerced into it?  Richard certainly was acute and
desirable guy and I wouldn't mind sharing my bed with him.  Still, there
was this terrible nagging doubts in my mind and my gut - something just did
not want to add up.  I was sure that something terrible would happen if I
accepted her offer and pleas.

"Can I think about this, Ruth? I asked.  I'm not really ready to make a
decision of this import right at this moment.  I hope you understand."

"I do.  Okay, professor.  I'm sorry that you won't accept my request and my
offer."  She rose and extended her hand.  We shook hands and she continued
to hold mine in hers.  "Richard is a lovely boy.  He really needs someone
like you.  He needs someone who is considerate of his feelings and his
longings.  I think that person is you, but obviously you don't.  Thank you
for your time and your thoughtfulness.  I really do appreciate them."

She dropped my hand and turned for the door.  My emotions were raging
within me.  When was the last time I was implored to make love to a
beautiful boy?  And by his mother, no less!  I truly desired Richard - he
was the most appetizing thing I had seen in months.  But I was also very
frightened by the consequences of any such action.

"Ruth!" I called out when she was halfway out the door.  She stopped and
looked back at me.  I smiled at her and she smiled back.  "Ruth, if you
think everything will be all right, you can...er...tell Richard that I
would...I'd be happy if he could...tell him I would love for him come by
and visit me."

She closed the door and walked back into the room.  She embraced me
closely, smiled and left the room.

I flopped down on the couch, threw my head back and brought my hands to my
face.  What had I gotten myself in to?  Jeez!  What could I have been
thinking?  What could have been going through my fevered brain when I told
her?  Shit, am I an ass hole or what?  Calm down, fella it's done.no going
back now, jackass!  Jeez, what a stupid shit you are!  Yes, yes, you really
like the boy, but he is only a boy.  Well, a teenager.  You've never done
anything with a boy since you were a boy.  And now this apparently
desperate mother comes to your room and offers you her son and you accept!
There's going to be hell to pay for this one, my friend!  Hell to pay!

I got up and went into one of the bathroom to splash some cold water on my
face.  When I looked into the mirror, what I saw staring back was a bit
startling.  I saw a middle aged man with a sallow complexion (maybe, I
reasoned, it was caused by the harsh florescent lighting in the bathroom),
badly in need of a haircut, with half closed and bloodshot eyes.  When I
looked even deeper I saw a man with a poor future before him, alone after
being pushed aside by a series of uncaring lovers and other bloodsuckers.
I saw a person humiliated into accepting the offer of a conniving mother to
have me deflower her oldest son.  How do I get into situation like this
one?  They must be of my own making.  Do I have the words "Pushover" or
"Asshole" or "Desperate" stamped on my forehead?

There was a light tapping on the door.  I quickly dried my face, brushed my
hair, straightened my clothing and myself, and went to the door.  I opened
it.

Richard was standing there in all his teenage beauty.  His bright face and
cheerful smile took my breath away.  He was absolutely gorgeous - and
amazingly, for this night at least, he was to be mine.


			     The End of Part 1


Author's Note:

This is the first part of a projected ten-part adventure story.  All I ask
is that you take a minute to e-mail me any comments you may have about it.
I will appreciate anything that you, the reader, have to say; this is my
only way of knowing what kind of job I'm doing and if my efforts are
worthwhile.  It is the only form of feedback that cyber-authors have.
Please let me know at my e-mail address: cutter57@email.com I will answer
all e-mails.

Robert J. Cutter