Date: Mon, 5 Apr 1999 21:34:33 -0400 (EDT)
From: cutter57@email.com
Subject: "Touring With Richard - Part 3" (Man/Boy)

Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction.  It contains detailed
depictions of consensual sex between a man and a teenage boy.  If this or
any other aspect of male/male sex offends you or if you are averse to
anything homosexual, please go elsewhere.


			   TOURING WITH RICHARD
	 Copyright 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.

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

Christ!  What a terribly restless night I was having.  I just kept tossing
and turning and thrashing about - even after I had taken a sleeping pill.
I couldn't think of anything but buses and walking step and smoky churches
and up one hill and down another.  Everything was a jumble of faces and
places and mediocre food and traffic jams.

The group was being pushed hard to be able to see all of the necessary
sights and sites during daylight hours.  Tomorrow would bring a night time
tour of the old city of Jerusalem but everything else was during the day.
And since this was December and the amount of daylight hours was short, the
pace was quite hectic.

I rolled over one more time and was stunned to feel something very warm and
very smooth in the bed with me.  I immediately bolted to an upright
position, being completely unable to remember what or who was sharing my
bed.  The body did not move when I had touched it or when I suddenly sat
up.

I reached over to turn on the lamp by the side of the bed.  Of course, I
knocked something onto the floor - my cigarettes and lighter.  I looked
over at the person sleeping next to me and could not see any identifying
features except for a little bit of hair.

And then I remembered!  Holy Christ, I fucking remembered everything!  I
jumped out of bed, and sat in one of the armchairs and held my head.  I
moved quickly to light a cigarette and I managed to do that even though my
hands were shaking uncontrollably.  Oh, Christ!  Oh, Jesus H. Christ!  Oh,
my God!  What have I done?  What have I fucking done?


		Part 3: Morning and Evening of the Fourth Day (Beginning)
		---------------------------------------------------------

We were hustled onto the bus at 7:30 AM from our hotels in Tel Aviv.  As
usual, I was the last to be picked up, staying at the Renaissance.  I had
all of my luggage with me because after this day of touring we would be
spending the next four nights in Jerusalem, the holy city, the city of God.
Of course I had over packed again, which is a chronic habit of mine.  I
always bring too much of everything with me.  One of my rules of traveling
is that you cannot have enough underwear, so I always pack plenty of those
items.  However, Israel is a very informal country, and ties and suits and
jackets are not necessary.

Today the group was going to be doing the southern part of Israel including
two major highlights - the Dead Sea and Massada.

After loading my luggage with the help of the bus driver, I took my usual
seat at the back of the bus.  And it was a big bus because fourteen
additional people joined the tour at this point.  There was a family of
four from Sweden (the two sons were tall and blonde, in there twenties and
quite beautiful), a family of five from South Africa, two Italian women and
a few more Americans.

Richard was already sitting in the back seat where I joined him.  He gave
me a big smile as I sat down.

"Got your bathing suit with you?" he asked.

"Sure do," I replied.  "I even took a towel from the hotel which I'll
return tonight."

"We're not returning to the same hotel tonight, remember?"

"Oh, shit!  You're right.  "Guess I'll just have to keep it."

"I can't wait to swim in the Dead Sea," he said enthusiastically.

"I don't think swimming is the right word.  Bobbing around will be more
like it from what I understand."

Richard gave me a big smile and sat close to me.  We put our travel bags on
an empty seat.  "Did you sleep well last night?" he asked.

I answered in a very low voice.  "Not as well as I did the night before -
when you were in my bed, Richard."  He gave me a big toothy smile.  He was
so cute and lovable that those great smiles of his just absolutely took my
breath away and melted my heart.

"Me neither.  I hope we're staying in the same hotel in Jerusalem," he said
wistfully.

Our new tour guide was an older gentleman who had come to Israel right
after it was established as a nation.  He was quite humorous, unlike our
previous guide, although he tended to tell the same jokes over and over
again.  We all introduced ourselves and greeted all of our fellow tourists.

Richard and I cuddled together in the back seat as the bus headed south out
of Tel Aviv.  The day was mostly overcast but the forecast promised no
rain.  Richard put his head on my shoulder and I think he fell asleep for a
while.

The scenery south of Tel Aviv was very different from that in the north and
after a while became quite boring.  It is dessert, and I mean dessert!  The
further south we went the more desolate the land became and the further
apart the towns became.  There was less and less vegetation and more and
more hills covered with nothing but sand colored rock.  Traveling down the
coastal highway we got very close to the Gaza Strip and we noticed the
presence of more military vehicles and personnel.  When we stopped for the
obligatory "pit stop" the place was filled with military personnel.  We all
went to relieve ourselves and fill our water bottles.  Keeping properly
hydrated is a must in such a dry environment, even in wintertime.

The stop was at a major intersection and the bus headed eastward.  We were
going to Be'er Sheva and then to the Dead Sea.  Richard cuddled up to me
again and because of our location the other members of the tour could not
see us.  I was sure that Ruth and Harold knew what was happening but they
did not turn around to look at us.  They did not even say anything to us at
the rest stop.

The city of Be'er Sheva was very lovely.  It was a new city with modern
housing, big open park- like spaces, a large branch of Hebrew University
and a very large hospital.  The guide told us that it was typical of the
newer cities being built in Israel particularly since the huge migration of
Russian Jews into the country.

>From there it was all downhill - literally.  The Dead Sea is the lowest
place on the face of the earth. 4?? Feet below sea level and the bus
descended down and down.  It was the first time in my life that I ever
experienced my ears popping while going down - that is, a pressure greater
than that at sea level.  It was a totally new and quite awesome experience.

The Dead Sea is quite ugly - it has a hideous color from all the dissolved
minerals.  It is rather large, much larger than the Sea of Galilee.  On all
sides land and mountains that do not promise much life surround the Dead
Sea.  What life there is is provided by hotels - a myriad of hotels are on
the Israeli side of the sea with more being built every month.  It is
apparently a very popular resort.  People come here from all over the world
for the "healing" qualities of the mud from the Dead Sea.  There are also
multiple cosmetics available reportedly manufactured from Dead Sea minerals
and containing wondrous properties.

We changed into our bathing suits in a crummy locker room beneath a
restaurant and those ubiquitous tourist shops.  Richard, Matthew and Harold
came out onto the beach together.  Both boys were wearing those hideous
baggy suits that look like yards of material wasted for no apparent reason.

We all read the list of rules posted for bathing in the Dead Sea.  The
primary one is that one must not ingest any of the water.  There is no
splashing or going underwater or real swimming, as we know it.  Of course,
that would be impossible because the buoyancy of the water.

As we walked to the water, I really noticed Matthew for the first time and
I would never, ever have thought of him as Richard's brother.  Where
Richard was tall, thin, blonde and very attractive (the epitome of teenage
beauty in my eyes), Matthew was short, dumpy (some would say fat) and had
dark very curly hair.  He was not what one would call attractive; I
physically found his appearance to be rather repugnant.  He had a little
boy's face - cute, all rosy-cheeked and pudgy.  His body was soft and
completely undefined.  He had those god awful little boy tits that were so
repellant to me.  I couldn't believe that he was only two years younger
than Richard; he looked to be about ten years old, if that.  My appraisal
of Matthew did nothing to help my spirits.  However Richard look absolutely
delicious even though he was wearing those baggy trunks.  His wide square
shoulders were so incredibly masculine and his whole body looked so
inviting and tempting in the warm sunshine of winter in the Middle East.

We went into the water and found it to be quite cold - much colder than we
had thought it would be.  The smell was incredibly briny mixed with strange
and unusual scents.  As we continued to walk further and further away from
the shore, we could feel the buoyant effect the water was having on our
bodies.  Richard and I looked at each other and smiled and giggled a bit.
Finally we were in up to mid- chest and we just flopped backwards.  There
was nothing else to do, because the incredible buoyancy just kept one
afloat.  We paddled around a bit on our backs and continued to look and
smile at each other.

Matthew joined us as did Harold and eventually Ruth came out.  It was
interesting trying to stand up and trying to touch the bottom.  It was
impossible; the buoyant effect of the water just kept one standing straight
up without touching bottom.

We were all very careful not to splash; however, Matthew did get a small
taste of the water and pronounced it horrible.  What a stupid little
jackass!  While we were having our fun (such as it was) paddling about, I
noticed a young kid pulling a wheelchair into the water.  The guy sitting
in the chair seemed to be in his early twenties and had bright red hair and
was a bit stocky of build.  When the chair was in to the top of the wheels,
the guy sitting slowly eased himself out and started floating around and
laughing.  He seemed to be having lots of fun.

After about fifteen minutes we slowly paddled towards shore and walked out.
It is really very boring swimming in the Dead Sea because there is not a
hell of a lot one can do - it is different but boring.  Floating and
bobbing around is the sum total of the activity.

There were cold showers on the beach to wash off minerals from ones body.
We got under them - they were plenty cold and it was difficult staying
under them for too long a time.  Then it was back to the locker room to
change back into real clothes.

An unimportant and seemingly innocent incident happened while I was
dressing; I dismissed it as nothing at the time.  Matthew had a problem
untying the drawstring of his bathing suit and came over to ask me if I
could do it for him.  I am rather good with these kinds of crap job and I
had no problem getting the knot out that he had created.  When I finished
and stood up straight again, he immediately slipped his bathing suit
completely off and was standing in front of me stark naked for a few
seconds.  I immediately knew he was giving me a purposeful look at his
entire body.  I quickly scanned it and it was truly a little boy body; he
didn't seem to have one hair anyplace and his cock and balls were really
quite diminutive for a thirteen-year-old kid.  His dick was like a small
pinky finger hanging down and I could barely see his scrotum behind it.
Matthew was definitely far from puberty and had the kind of body I really
loathed - all soft and pudgy and round and a complete turnoff for me.  I
knew I was going to have nightmares about this one.

After lunch we piled back into the bus; it was off to Massada.  The drive
along the Dead Sea produced more landscapes of incredible barrenness and
bleakness.  I could believe some of the Biblical tales of a wasteland after
seeing this environment.  It was unremitting desolation.

During the ride to Massada Matthew join Richard and me in the back seat of
the bus.  I hoped this wasn't a prelude to a permanent invasion of our
territory.  He seated himself on the other side of me.  Okay now I had two
boys with me, one that I wanted to be sitting by me very much and the other
who physically repulsed me.

Matthew kept up a continuous stream of chatter until I had to ask him to
please stop talking so much.  That boyish high-pitched voice of his was
grating on my fucking nerves.  What was it about this kid that annoyed me
so much?  Everything about him reminded me of something or someone that I
hated, absolutely hated!  Everything he did just bugged the fucking shit
out of me.  I wish he would go back to his own fucking seat so that I would
be rid of him and that Richard and I could be alone.  I had to do something
to get this kid away from me.

The Swedish lady walked to the back of the bus.  She wanted to know if I
had any aspirin with me since her younger son had ingested some of the Dead
Sea water and he had developed a very, very bad headache.  Now I am a
traveling medicine cabinet; I have four kinds of over the counter and one
prescription pain relievers with me at all times.  In addition, I carry a
first aid kit, my own prescription medications, vitamin tablets, antacids,
and special medications that I always take along when traveling.  I
produced the aspirin and gave her two.  She thanked me and gave the three
of us a big smile.  I wished she hadn't included Matthew in the smile!

I was really getting pissed off that he was sitting near me when the tour
guide announced that Massada could be seen off in the distance.  It was a
plateau on top of more sand colored mountains and looked very impressive
from a distance.  It looked even more impressive from close up.

There is a cable car leading to the top of Massada and I loathe cable cars
- especially those gondola types.  In addition, I noticed that the car
bringing passengers down from the top was absolutely packed with people.  I
am extremely claustrophobic and detest hate crowds.  How the hell was I
going to get into this tight, cramped capsule that leaves the ground?

It was obviously written on my face because Richard tuned to me and asked,
"Are you all right, professor?"

"Well, Richard, the truth is I don't think I am, but I'll get through it."

"Are you going to make it to the top?" he asked.

"I'm sure I am.  I didn't travel all this distance to miss one of the main
attractions of Israel."

"How about walking up instead?" he asked pointing to the steps up the side
of the mountain.

"I think I'll take my chances in the cable car, Richard," I said in a
laughing tone of voice.

Just then one of the gondola cars arrived at the loading dock, packed to
the hilt with people.  I positioned myself near the entry door and when it
opened I managed to get to the rear of the car near an opened window.  The
car filled up rapidly but I continued to look out of the window and not out
over the crowd, which would trigger a claustrophobic reaction.  The door
closed and the car began to move up to the top of the mountain.  I found I
was surprisingly calm during the ascent; I was looking down at the rapidly
receding ground.  The site surrounding Massada is marked where the Roman
legions were encamped during the siege of the fortress.  It was fascinating
to see.

When we got to the top I disembarked from the gondola car.  Richard was
right next to me.  We were lead along steel and wooden platforms to an
incredibly narrow and twisting flight of steps that were carved out of the
stone of the mountain.  These steps lead to the actual plateau of Massada.
This is where I really began to feel queasy and my claustrophobia started
kicking into high gear.  The stairs were barely one person wide and there
was such a crush of people that I felt trapped.  In addition the stairs
were divided in two parts - one for going up and one for going to down.
And the down side was completely packed with people waiting to make the
descent.  So here I was on this very narrow, very steep, very packed
stairway and I was feeling very jittery and very nervous.

And then we reached the top, and it was just the reverse - totally opened
and totally desolate.  Our guide gave us a history and overview of Massada
and we began our tour of this incredible place.  I had always thought that
Massada was just a fortress where one thousand people committed mass
suicide after being laid siege to and systematically attacked year after
year by Roman legions.  This was after the fall of Jerusalem in 70 AD.  And
while all this was true, what I hadn't known was that Massada was actually
a city of five thousand people built by Herod the Great.  It was his winter
palace, so to speak, a place to get away from the hectic life in Jerusalem.

It is a truly immense and overpowering site, completely overwhelming in
both size and scope.  I had seen pictures of Massada, but nothing in a
picture can prepare one for the immensity of the site.  All that's left are
the ruins of buildings, temples, storehouses, various palaces and churches
that were built later on the site.  It has the oldest still functioning
synagogue in the world.  Massada is such an enormous place as to totally
swamp the senses.  We like to think that our ancestors were a bunch of
ignorant peons who didn't know very much.  However, when confronted by the
immensity of Massada one know that two thousand years ago they were every
bit a intelligent as we are today.  They didn't need alien visitors to
teach them how to construct such an incredible city.

Of course, the ultimate history of Massada was that one thousand people
held out for years against the Roman legions besieging the city until they
realized that their chances were hopeless.  They found it best it they were
able to determine their fates and arrived at a decision that still shocks
the world.  They committed mass suicide - every man, woman and child died
by either their own hands or those of an elder.  For thousands of years
their story was forgotten and untold.  Brave people.  I wonder if I would
have the courage necessary to do what they did if I ever faced such despair
and hopelessness in my life.

The ride down in the cable car was totally uneventful and smooth and the
large crowds were gone - we walked to the car and got on immediately with
no waiting.  Then it was re-hydrating time, souvenir buying time and
bathroom time - and back on the bus for the ride to Jerusalem.

Richard and I were in the back of the bus again and Matthew had taken his
seat near the front with his parents.  Richard and I cuddled under my
raincoat and we sort of dozed until the tour guide announced that were
nearing the caves of Qumran, where the famous Dead Sea Scrolls were found
by a Nomad child playing in the area.  We could not get to the caves
because it was getting dark but we were able to get a few pictures taken.

As we neared Jerusalem we could see the lights of the city off in the
distance; it looked like a series of hills sparkling like the jewels of a
continuous string of necklaces.  It was really beautiful and I wondered
what these great ancient cities must have looked like in ancient times of
travelers approaching them - thousands of torches and fires burning.  Then
I thought of the smells associated with those times and I stopped dreaming.

The bus drove us to our hotel.  We were all staying in the same hotel with
different levels of accommodations.  We were given our room assignments.
My room - or rather, my suite - was on the top floor and was incredibly
commodious.  There was a very large sitting room, a very beautiful and
large bedroom with a king-size bed, and a huge bathroom, complete with
separate shower and Jacuzzi tub.  My bags were brought up and I immediately
hopped into the shower to wash the incredible dust of Massada off of me.

After the shower, I dressed in all clean clothes and then went down for
dinner.  This hotel was strictly kosher, which meant that foods made with
dairy products were kept completely separate from those food which
contained meat or meat products.  In addition, certain foods were never to
be eaten, including all shellfish (crabs, lobster, clams, etc) and pork.
So, as a gentile in a Jewish land, I realized that my tastes were not being
catered to.  Then it dawned on me that this was how the Jewish people all
over the world felt for thousands of years; they were always a small
minority in a sea of gentiles.  Now after two thousand years they know what
it is to be in the majority; and all the trials and tribulations that that
entails.

I ate alone in the dairy restaurant of the hotel, browsed through the
various shops in the hotel and handled the various items for sale.  Some
were very beautiful and very expensive and some were tschotchkes, a Yiddish
word I learned from Ruth.  It translates into cheap knick-knacks, usually
made with very little taste.  If one were to go to Paris and buy a cheap
model of the Eiffel Tower with a clock in it, that would be a perfect item
that could be called tschotchkes.

I walked outside for a smoke.  It was a nice balmy evening and I walked
around a bit, taking in the sights and sounds of Jerusalem.  Of course, our
hotel was located in the new city of Jerusalem - modern, efficient (well,
as efficient as one can get in the Middle East), with all buildings
constructed of the same slightly off-white stone, called, appropriately,
Jerusalem stone.

The streets around the hotel were very much deserted, so I headed back to
the hotel.  I figured a night of TV and munching away on the fruit basket
provided was in store for me.  In the lobby of the hotel I met members of
our tour group and we chatted a bit before I went upstairs.  However, I did
not see Richard or any of his family.

I stripped down to my underwear, put on my bathrobe and walked out onto the
balcony.  I sat down and smoked another cigarette.  It was a beautiful
night and I began to doze a little.  There was a light tapping on the door,
and I smiled to myself.  "And the evening of delights and enchantments
begineth," I thought as I stood up and walked to the door.  I was smiling
broadly and I opened the door with a certain amount of casual flair - only
to be face to face with Matthew.

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

My jaw dropped open and I must have gotten a very sour expression on my
face because Matthew's smile almost immediately disappeared.

"Hi Matthew, " I said very unenthusiastically.  "What do you want?"

"Hi, professor, " he said, a slight smile returning to his face.  "I just
wanted to know if you wanted company tonight.  Richard isn't feeling well.
He won't be comin' over tonight.  Musta been those falafel we ate for
dinner, eay?"  Matthew was dressed in shorts and tee shirt with untied
sneakers on his feet.

I was immediately concerned for Richard's health.  My loving and lovely
Richard.  "Is his seriously sick or what?" I ask with concern.

"Yeah, he's got an upset stomach and he puked a couple of times."

"I have some medication for that.  Does he need it?"

"Nah.  Mom gave him Pepto-Bismol and he seems to be doing better now."  He
looked up at me again and smiled a broad smile.  "Can I come in?"

"Uh, sure Matthew," I commented not very convincingly.  "If you want to,
come in."

Matthew slowly walked into the room and seated himself directly in front of
the fruit and candy basket.  He eyed it closely.  "Take whatever you want,
Matthew.  I can't eat it all."

"Thanks, professor."  He immediately reached for a piece of fruit and some
of the candies.  "You get treated real nice up here in the penthouse
suites."

"Yeah, we do Matthew."  I was anxious to get rid of him.  "So what can I do
for you?"

He just smiled at me and moved to sit in the corner of the couch.  He
slipped off his sneakers and crossed his legs in front of him.  He peeled a
banana and began eating it.  He looked up at me with a hurt puppy dog
expression on his face.  God, how did I always attract these waif types?

"No, professor, it's what can I do for you,eay?"

"I don't understand you Matthew.  What you can do for me?"

"Yeah, how can I help you feel better and be happier with me and like me
better."  I just shook my head slightly, like I was in a state of shock,
and he continued.  "I know you don't like me, professor, and I know you
didn't like me sitting with you and Richard in the back of the bus today.
I could see the way you were looking at me when we were swimming in the
Dead Sea."  He looked up at me and I started to speak but he held up his
hand.  "No, let me finish.  I know you like Richard very, very much and I
also know that he likes you an awful lot, too.  I've never heard him talk
about anyone the way he talks about you.  I think that's great!  But I
would also like to know why you don't like me."

I just stood there riveted to the spot.  I couldn't say anything.  He just
kept staring at me and I was staring back.  Yes, why did I dislike him so
much?  I remember taking an instant dislike to him when we first met.  And
then today at the Dead Sea, seeing that little boy's body of his and those
flabby tits, I formed a positive loathing of Matthew.  But why?  Why did I
hate boys that looked like this?

"I'm sorry Matthew.  I didn't think it was that obvious.  I'm really
sorry."  I sat down on the couch next to him and rested my hand on his leg.
And then it struck me like a huge bolt of lightning.  I suddenly and
absolutely knew for sure why I disliked Matthew so much.  He was me!  He
was me as a kid - late to enter puberty, short, chubby, with small
genitals, no body hair.  God!  He was fucking me!  This boy was me as a kid
- me as a young teen.  Matthew was me, the object of scorn and derision,
the last to be picked (if picked at all) for any team, the one laughed at
for being so "girly" and being a "sissy Mary".  Oh, fuck!  Oh my fucking
god!  My whole fucking childhood was coming back with a terrible, hideous
rush.  I could hear my own mother calling me those horrible names - "Sissy
Mary, Sissy Mary, Sissy Mary" - and she and my father carping because I
didn't hang around with boys and had no friends and was always around
girls.

I put my head in my hands and shook it vigorously to get out those fucking
images and sounds.  "Excuse me a minute, Matthew," I heard myself saying.
I walked into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face.  I put on a
clean pair of shorts and a shirt over my underwear and then rejoined
Matthew in the sitting room.  He had turned on the television and was
munching on a few candies and nuts.

"Thought I'd make myself decent," I said to him in a joking kind of voice.

"Okay, whatever you like."

I sat down next to him and put my hand on his bare calf muscle.  "I'm
really sorry the way I behaved, Matthew.  It's a very complex and deep
seeded problem that I just realized I have.  I hope you'll forgive me.
Okay?"

"Yeah, okay."  He continued to flip through the TV channels and munch on
the candies without even looking at me.  I found that I was involuntarily
and slowly rubbing my hand on his calf muscle.  He seemed to be completely
hairless and his skin was very smooth and had a shine to it.  Matthew gave
me a startled look when he realized what I was doing.

I quickly removed my hand and put it in my lap.  "I'm sorry again, Matthew.
I really seem to be screwing up tonight."

"Oh no, professor.  I liked what you were doing.  If you want you can
continue doing what you were doing, eay?"

I gave him a small smile and put my hand back on his calf and stroked it
gently and lovingly.  Matthew smiled at me and put both legs across my lap.
I soothingly fondled both of them.  I actually found that I liked doing it
to him.  Was he the substitute for Richard tonight?  Was he purposely sent
over as a substitute for Richard?  Christ, what a thought!

Matthew picked up the remote and turned off the television.  His head was
thrown back just a bit and his eyes were closed.  I continued to pet his
legs and slowly but surely worked my way up to his thighs and gently let my
hands play over the surface of these smooth muscles.  His thighs were also
completely hairless and were incredibly smooth.  They felt so unlike a
male's thighs in their texture and lack of firmness.

Matthew began to breathe more heavily as I gradually worked my hands up his
legs.  My hands were now under the shorts he was wearing and about four
inches from his crotch area.

"Oh, professor, this is so great," he whispered.  "I'm feeling so
comfortable and wonderful."

"I'm glad that I can make you feel happy Matthew.  I'm very glad."

"You're doing a really super job.  I feel like I'm floating. Just like in
the Dead Sea today."

I continued to rub those smooth and shiny thighs, all the while getting
close and close to his undersized package.  I could see his little dick
beginning to twitch in the crotch of those baggy shorts.  "Matthew, how
would you like to feel even better?"

"I think I'd like that an awful lot, professor, eay."


				The End of Part 3

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

Author's Note: Please take a minute to e-mail me any comments you may have
about this story.  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 I get.
Please let me know at my e-mail address: cutter57@email.com.  I will answer
all e-mails.
											Robert J. Cutter