Date: Thu, 06 Mar 2003 15:15:42 +0000 From: Susan Subject: Vignette 9 Vignette 9. by Susan RULES OF ENGAGEMENT 1. No kids allowed. There's Dr. Seuss for you. 2. It isn't cheap porn, it's literature. If you want the other, go somewhere else. 3. If you live in a backward, repressive state that doesn't allow you to read the things you want, pack up and leave. 4. It's copyrighted. 5. If we can't agree that love occurs regardless of age and gender, put this down and get a life. 6. Support Nifty. Give generously. Introduction: Vignettes, 1 thru 29. Somewhere out there in boy-love land is a writer by the name of Ganymede. Over the years, he has given us gentle Chrissy of Pandora's Box; the sweet boy whose name became Dylan for Summer Dreams; talented Alesha of Sugar Plum; over-sexed Joey of the soon-to-be-released Paradise; the adventurous honey-skinned Favonius boy, Michel; and yes, even rugged, I'm-not-gay Ty of Sixty Nine. Like me, you've read his stories and dreamed of living a life like the ones he goes to such pains to describe, a life where people can openly love each other regardless of their age and gender. I know other readers have always wondered who he is. A famous writer perhaps, or someone in the foreign service, because he travels so much? Over the years I've heard things like: given the things he writes about, he must be wealthy. He's obviously very creative, he has a lot of time to spare. Beyond that, he knows a lot about very many things. His writ- ing ability indicates that he's well-educated. Some people think he's famous, which is why he carefully protects his identity. There's some truth in all of that. How do I know, you may ask. Well, let's just say we've known each other for a long, long time. I wrote to him many years ago after I had read Like Father, Like Son. Back then, he used an anonymous server in Finland to post on alt.sex.stories. I naively told him that if I was ever to have a son, the man I would most like him to know was Ganymede. He wrote a very nice E-mail back. He didn't believe that a woman can be a boy-lover. We've kept in contact every since. I've even pressed him to write his autobiography-what it was like growing up as a boy-lover. He says he's working on. He calls it `McIntyre Beach', because that's where he discovered boys! And so, in sincere appreciation for his years of literary effort, I offer my vignettes of Ganymede, let's call him David, and my son, whose real name isn't Kelly. These vignettes are but glimpses, brief sketches that capture the spirit of their love. Each vignette is a little fuzzy on the edges because that's how I want it. And finally, they're not presented in sequential order for the same reason. Susan Vignette Nine. Sunday Brunch. February 2002 It's 10.30, Sunday morning. If that was the toilet I just heard flushing, then they'll soon be down for breakfast. Better make that brunch the way the time is going. What to make in ten minutes? Not crepes again. They take too long, besides the ham is gone. He'll want something to eat, even if David takes him out for the day. I suppose we'll have to wait for a table at `Milieu' if we go there this late. David would never think of going somewhere else for breakfast. Neither would I, not when Kelly likes it so much. He hates to wait for anything, but that's my boy. He's such a creature of habit, like all of us I suppose, but he's always been so impatient. Hm,... I could make waffles, I suppose. I haven't done that in a while. He likes them too. I wonder what we can celebrate this morning? `Boy Day'? I smile at that. `Boy Day' should be every day. It would be if I have my way. Celebrating Kelly's birthday only once a year makes no sense at all. His next birthday is still so far away. Ten months and five days. Not that I want him to grow up. I don't. I would be been perfectly happy if he stays the way he is forever. Ten years and two months is the perfect age for a boy. At that age he's funny and sweet and ener- getic, and curious about the world, and old enough to,... yes, to have sex as well. I begin to gather the things for making waffles, keeping one eye on the TV and my ears tuned for sounds coming from upstairs. Kelly thinks waffles taste better when the mix has sat around for while. I have to agree with him. If you don't cook them right away, it makes them lighter and crispier. David does so love it when I spoil our precious Kelly. Instead of Boy Day, Annual Waffle Day perhaps? David wouldn't say anything then. I suppose I could put some chocolate chips in Kelly's to make his waffle extra special? I incline my head, listening to the sounds of the house. David's house is far too large for him alone, but now that it's Kelly's home, and mine too, it's ideal. Kelly is happy living here, and I am too, most if not all of the time. South Carolina is much nicer than Madison Wisconsin, and warmer too. The only problem is that there are times when I miss having Kelly all to myself. After the toilet flushes, it becomes quiet again upstairs. Not the slightest sound of them moving around, not even a creak of the bed. What are they doing up there? Ha, as if I didn't know. If I know David he'll be making out with that sexy son of mine. I can't blame him. Kelly is such a wonderful little kisser! Yes, he is. His lips are,... I close my eyes and bring my lips together, imagining. His touch, His lips, so soft, so warm and passionate, and deli- cate too, not like mine at all. I linger with that thought, dreamily imagining with my eyes closed. "-. So divine,...." I can't believe I said that. But it's so true. His lips are wonderful. Nowadays they barely touch my cheek and I feel like I'm melting. I only wish he would kiss me on the lips like he used to do. He's stopped doing that now that he's got David, except when he wants something from me. Of course, he doesn't have to kiss me to have that effect. All he has to do is give me one of his Kelly-smiles. I'll have to tell him that. He probably won't think it's funny. He never thinks anything I say is funny any more. I suppose that's only to be expected now he's growing up. I don't like him getting older. David doesn't like me doting on him. He doesn't want me mak- ing Kelly into a mommy's boy, but it's so hard to not to. It's a different matter if David does it. Why am I not sur- prised by that? He's always been very lucky, even when he was a kid. And now he's got my Kelly as well. But better he's with David than someone else. Now, what about breakfast? Brunch? I'll have to make some- thing else besides waffles if it's brunch though, won't I? Especially if we're celebrating Boy Day. David will probably say something mean about me liking boys. Then, I'll say it's Waffle Day. Hm, how about a fruit platter? The grapes are good this time of year, and I've got that box of fresh straw- berries I bought yesterday in the refrigerator. I hate to keep pushing fruit at Kelly, but he'll needs some, espe- cially after,... After he stayed up so late last night. I smile, thinking once again of the night before. It sends a shiver through me first, and then a funny feeling, a feeling that slowly becomes a glow. I can't help being envious of David. It isn't my imagination working overtime. I wish it was, sometimes at least. Mostly, I accept it. I didn't have to listen very hard to hear them. The sounds of the night, the tapping of the bed against the wall that separate my bed- room from theirs are enough for me to know what is going on. It went on for nearly an hour last night. A whole hour. It's still hard to believe they did it for that long. I need to touch myself. Could I be David? How often have I dreamed of doing that with him? I'm wet. Wet for Kelly, damn it! I walk across the kitchen, leaving my coffee cup by the tele- vision. There is something on CNN about more snow in Chicago. Five or six inches, even more going north into Wisconsin. As much as 12 inches by nightfall where we used to live. I am glad David has an SUV even though it's hard to drive. It's ungainly and impossible to park, some silver Lincoln Naviga- tor thing with a fancy leather interior. Kelly will be safe if we decide to go back for a visit. According to David, it can go almost anywhere, even through snow drifts. It's very quiet upstairs. What are they doing? Poor Kelly. He'll be lucky if he can still walk down the stairs. It's hard not to smile, knowing what David does to him. Kelly certainly doesn't seem to mind. Sex kitten? Ha! He's more like one of Ganymede's boy-tigers. David's the luckiest man alive. Still, better that he's with David than someone else though. Another man? Of course, it would be another man. I don't know who it could be besides David. I know I saw Kelly looking at that Atkins person, the coach from his soccer team last season. It could've been for any reason, I suppose? I don't know why I'm always thinking the worst. That's not true, I do know why. I'd much prefer this over seeing him with some silly, giggling girl. Just the thought of it,... taking advantage of Kelly, touching my son. He's still too young to like girls, of course. Ug! Maybe he won't be interested, not after what he's been doing with David. I can only hope so. I wish I was the man in his life. It's strange how boys only like women as mothers. I'm sure it wouldn't be any different if I was younger. I mix the batter, using the pure canola oil that is supposed to be free of saturated fat. The house is full of low-fat, no-fat, minimum calorie food now that Kelly and I live with David. He's more careful about his health as well. He's even bought a treadmill for the basement, which he uses after Kelly goes off to school. Stirring the creamy batter in the bowl, splattering against the sides and slurping around the spatula makes me smirk. That sound is close, so very close to what I remember hearing. I hear it when I listen at the bed- room door. I don't have to see inside to know what's going on. Back and forth. In and out. It always sounds so,.... Messy is the word I always come up with, but then I have their sheets and towels to justify that. A whole hour of that last night! I bet Kelly's sore after doing it for so long. Well, I've told him before to take it easy. David's so big compared to him. I know David tries to be careful with him. I wonder if they're getting dressed by now. They probably are. It's a pity. I do like to see Kelly running around in just his boxers in the morning. I think I like that even more than seeing him in his robe. He has such a beautiful tummy. He's ever so sexy in just his jeans. I'm glad he hasn't stopped streaking when he needs to get some clean clothes from the laundry. I smile again, opening the refrigerator door for the fourth or fifth time. There's a half-finished bottle of diet coke precariously balanced on the bottom shelf that I haven't seen before. The cap is barely screwed on. I shake my head. It could have been either of them, but Kelly is the culprit. I remember him the night before, running into the kitchen during a commercial break. By then, he only had his tee-shirt on. His little bare bottom looked so precious. There's no point in saying something about keeping Kelly up so late. David's only going to laugh. It's probably Kelly doing anyway. Kelly can do no wrong in his eyes. It's the same for me, of course. Between the two of us, that boy gets away with murder. He's got both of us wrapped around his lit- tle finger, not just David. I know almost everything of what they do together. They've been having sex for a long while. Maybe I should stop it. I've known for so long and I haven't tried to stop it. It's better this way. I'm jealous of David, but the important thing is that Kelly's very happy around him. I can see it in his face whenever he smiles. He always smiles at David. I know why, of course. It's what he's thinking. He's a man's boy and David's a boy's man. It couldn't have turned out any better, but I do wish, well,.... He's just so young. I'm sure David knows what he's doing. Kelly certainly doesn't seem to mind sleeping in his bed. David is so lucky. We just have to make certain that no one else finds out. I shrug and move some things around in the refrigerator to make more room before taking out what I need. There are con- cord grapes, big purple ones. Strawberries that are big and red, but which don't have that much favor this early in the season. Blueberries are supposed to be good for anti-oxi- dants as well. I'm a big fan of lots of berries. Oranges too, because growing boys need vitamin C, especially during the winter. When I carry the bags of fruit over to the counter, there is a sound on the floor above. Light footsteps like someone running. Then, heavier footsteps. Kelly always squeals loudly when David catches him. His voice is high- pitched. Then, silence. I smile again and start to cut the strawberries up, removing the stems as I go. The bed above my head creaks, not once, but several times in quick succession. They can't be doing it again. Little sexpot! It's hard to remember he's only ten. Little sex-kitten. It's funny, what he does with David. That of all things. It's almost silly that they'd want to do it. Most boys his age wouldn't know what to do,.... or they'd think it was dirty. I suppose it is, in a way, putting David's thing inside his bottom, but I'm jealous too. David's up there in bed with him, doing things,.... It can't possibly feel good for him. But they did it for an hour? Perhaps it does. David's always buying KY. That makes sense the more I think about it. It must be dry in there, not like mine. That's why he uses it with Kelly, so he doesn't get too sore. But an hour? What are they doing upstairs now? Better make that ten minutes, thirty minutes instead. I won- der where David's taking him today? He said something about looking for a puppy for Kelly last night. He said he wasn't 100 percent serious, but I think he is. He said that the last thing we needed around here was a dog, but he also said that about getting Kelly a laptop computer. If Kelly wants a dog, I don't see that it's such a bad idea. Boys and dogs go together. David's sure to get him one, anyway. I wonder if I can get David to sharpen this knife for me when he comes downstairs? Should I put the oranges in the bowl with the rest of the fruit. Kelly likes them cut into eighths. If I don't, I'll have to peel them and break them into pieces. What's keeping them? I could go up, I suppose? It's silly of me, I know. They're probably just kissing. Surely, they wouldn't be doing it again? I hope there's noth- ing wrong. No. They're probably just taking their time get- ting dressed, that's all they're doing. They come down the stairs at eleven o'clock, Kelly bouncing up and down and bounding around David as if he's trying out for the role of Energizer Bunny. I wonder how David would put it if he had to write about Kelly. He's always so active in the mornings, but he isn't much different in the afternoon. At night, when other boys are tired, he's still going. My 24-hour son. Where does he gets the energy? I pour David a cup of coffee, add the requisite splash of milk, never any sugar, and carry it over to him. Kelly almost knocks it out of my hand as he dashes around David. I scowl at him. It's almost impossible to be angry with him. He's wearing blue jeans, the ones that are tight on his butt. Unfortunately, he's wearing a shirt, the button-up red one that David brought him from Denmark. Kelly looks so sexy when all he wears are blue jeans. The shirt isn't tucked in. Boys are extra sexy like that, but not as sexy when it's just blue jeans and them. When his arms lift up, I get a good view. He's built beautifully, just like some of those Russian boys. He even looks a bit like Lloyd, my favorite of the lot. I've seen photographs of Lloyd having sex with Duncan, but never with a man. Those photographs would be worth seeing. His jeans cling to his hips, just a few inches below his navel. Just far enough that I can see the start of his box- ers. There was a time when he used to wear briefs, but that soon stopped once we moved in with David. It isn't David's fault. The boys at school teased him about his tighty-whi- ties so he started wearing boxers. I don't think it's just a South Carolina thing. I hear it's happening all across the country. It's such a pity. Boys are becoming afraid of show- ing off their bodies. I don't want that to happen to Kelly He's definitely in a good humor. Nothing but giggles this morning. David's always so patient with him. No one else gets his attention, just his dear little lover boy. My Kelly. My precious, sexy, little boy. It's easy to understand why he's so infatuated with my son. What does a boy see in a grown man, I wonder? David has something that Kelly needs. I don't know what it is. I just wish it was me who he loved instead. My, but his lips are so red today. What caused that? Kissing David more than likely. Oh Kelly, why him? You silly boy. You just can't get enough, can you? I wonder if they're really sore. They look like they are. Kelly the man-kisser. If that was all you did with him, you'd be better off. I'd better not say that. I'd love to be kissing him myself. I bet David's been kissing him since they woke up. "Go sit down, for Christ sake, Kelly," I grump moodily. Why am I like this? I'm jealous. I know I am and I can't help it. I know why they were slow coming down. Kelly and David were upstairs in their bed, naked and kissing. He probably sucked David's cock. Lucky David. He's always spending time with my precious Kelly. No wonder his lips are red. He almost looks like he's wearing lipstick. I ought to suggest he use lip gel or something if he's going to keep doing that. At least he doesn't have to go to school this morning. "David? Do I gotta?" My son, the boy soprano. He always turns to David for sup- port. He sounds so much like when he was a baby. David always tells Kelly what to do and Kelly always does it. He doesn't disobey him. Kelly, the butter-wouldn't-melt-in-his-mouth, perfect boy. He is cute, though. Everyone says so. David agrees with me that people say that only because the can't say that Kelly's beautiful. He is! The dream-boat boy. Blond hair, long and straight, a little bit shaggy because that's the way that David likes it. Blue eyes, paler than mine "Yes, you gotta, Bucky. Go watch cartoons or something, sweetie. I need to talk to your mom." If I called Kelly `Bucky' he'd probably get mad. It isn't very nice of David to make fun of him like that. I suppose Bucky Beaver suits him because of his two front teeth. They're big and white, but he's cute, even with the gap. Especially with the gap. He still has so many of his baby teeth that the two adult teeth in front stand out. He won't need braces from what his dentist says. Kelly gives him a toothy grin, makes what sounds like a bea- ver noise and ducks out from under David's arm. He darts off to the television in the adjoining room, still making beaver sounds. David saunters after him, watching. Like me, he's always watching Kelly, watching like a hawk after chickens. We share him. Part of me wishes I'm not his mother, but his uncle instead. David watches but he's thoughtful too, stand- ing there in the doorway while Kelly flops down onto the couch and changes the channel back to Nickelodeon from the Movie Channel. I wonder what he's thinking. That Kelly's beautiful? The blanket they'd used the night before is lying neatly folded on the back of the couch. David sees it the same time as I realize that I probably should have moved it. He walks over, reaches over to fondle Kelly's hair for a few seconds, then ruffles it playfully so that it is more tousled than ever. He's always doing that. Like it's part of some male bonding thing, a ritual of proving who the man was. I feel left out again. I don't have what Kelly needs. Kelly skews around and grins up at him. He whispers something to David, pointing at the blanket. Kelly's blanket. I wouldn't dare call it his `bwankie', although that is what we used to call. He's had since he was a toddler. It's reassur- ing, both to Kelly and to me. The wool-knit smells of Kelly after seven years. David smirks and picks it up, smelling in the same place where I had smelled when I first came down- stairs. I wonder if he notices that the fibers are stuck together slightly. It's as if they have been glued down, dis- colored slightly with something crusty, something that has dried out overnight. There is just a trace of another smell, nothing more than that. It's even possible that what I smelled earlier that morning might even have been my imagi- nation. "I haven't washed that in a long while. I expect it's start- ing to smell a bit stale, David. If you give it to me, I'll have it dry by tonight." He hands Kelly's pale-blue blanket to me on his way back into the kitchen, giving me that smile of his that seems to say `I know what you're thinking'. The smell of David's semen is a smell that I will never get used to. It's a different smell to anything else. It's almost pleasant, even if always strikes me as smelling a bit like chlorine. So different to Kelly's scent, even from his groin. Whenever I wash or pick up his clothes from the bed- room floor, his soiled underpants are never far from my nose. It's the sweet smell of boy that I enjoy. His smell. Just slightly sweaty. Refreshing in a way. David's underpants smell sour and stale, not at all like Kelly's smell. Most mornings I can also detect the smell of semen on their sheets, an odor that's very different. There are other smells too, smells lingering in the bedroom they share. Some of the smells are from David, that manly odor of his, but there is usually another one that reminds me of something musky and dank. It's always strongest where the spots are, the little stains and smears that always seem to be in the very center of the bed. Sometimes the spots are still damp. Sometimes, starchy and stiff, or yellow-brown, but they are always there. `We're celebrating Waffle Day this morning, David dear," I announce on my way back into the kitchen. "It won't be very long till breakfast. It's nearly ready." "What, not Boy Day again? I was beginning to think I'm the Mad Hatter, Alice." I look confused. I'm easily flustered, David says. "Un-birthday? UN-Boy-Day?" "Oh, I get it. No, not today. You wouldn't want me to spoil him, would you?" David follows me, stopping to lean against the island counter. He wears blue jeans and a plaid shirt. Not the fancy designer jeans he always buys for Kelly, jeans that empha- size my son's body to the point of distraction. Kelly isn't over-endowed in the boy-department, by any stretch of the imagination, but what he has, those jeans show off to great advantage. By contrast, David's jeans are plain, probably just as expensive, faded like they've been washed one too many times. There's a huge bulge in the crotch, that does nothing for me, but I can see why Kelly might be interested. David smiles suddenly, watching my eyes lift up. He knows. I swallow in return. He folds his hands together, interlocking his fingers. "Is he okay, David?" I have to ask. I am beyond embarrass- ment. I worry about Kelly, that's all, I tell myself. "Who? Oh, you mean Kelly. He's fine, Susan." He hesitates. "What I mean is,... he's alright now." "He wasn't walking funny." I glance up at David. That's the easiest way to put it. He knows what I mean. "Of course not. Why would he be?" He's going to make me say it anyway. I pour some of the waffle mix into the machine and close the lid. I try to ignore him. He knows I'm jealous. "No reason-. It's just,... well,... you were up so late with him last night, David, and- Well, I thought,...." "He's fine, Susan." When he's curt like this, it's his way of letting me know that I am testing his patience and asking questions that are none of my business. The last thing I want to do is to make him angry. It will make Kelly angry as well. It always does. David tells him everything I say about him. At the same time, I tell myself again, I have a right to know. I'm Kelly's mother. "It's just that when you were late coming down this morn- ing,.... I began to worry, I suppose. I heard the toilet flush and,... well,... I wondered if there was a problem or something." David shrugs nonchalantly. "He was sore, okay?" It isn't that he doesn't care. He does. "You didn't hurt him again?" "No! No, of course not." I hate it when David gets upset at me. He doesn't very often. Just when we're talking about Kelly, about what they do together. I know I'm getting flustered. I should try to stay calm. Oh God, why couldn't it have been me instead? Why couldn't I have been a man? Kelly's so happy being with David. I wish,... well,... enough of that. He couldn't have a better person teaching him about sex. Such a simple word for something so complicated. "I'm sorry. It's just that I worry,... I'm his mother,... I'm supposed to worry, David. That's my job." "And I'm his lover, Susan. If you must know, he was a little bit swollen this morning. I put some of that Preparation H stuff inside him." "Should I buy some more?" It feels uncomfortable between my legs. Slippery, icky, wet. It's probably more uncomfortable between Kelly's legs after David's had him. Had him? It sounds so innocuous like that. Had him. Had it in Kelly's little butt, more like. It's messy when David sticks his thing inside his bowels. I've seen his boxers. "No, there's plenty left. There's another tube in the bath- room." I look up quickly. It's impossible not to be interested. "Did you use the ointment or the suppositories?" David laughs. "The ointment, Susan. He doesn't like the sup- positories very much. Don't worry. He'll be fine by tonight." "He didn't bleed did he?" David sighs loudly so I get the point. "No Susan. He didn't bleed. I promised I'd tell you the next time it happened, didn't I? Really. I'm being very careful. You know that, don't you? The last thing I want to do is hurt him." My face is getting hot, hotter and hotter the more I think about what they do in the bed they share at night. David puts his thing inside Kelly's bottom. We've talked about it before, but that doesn't make it any easier to accept. I accept it, nonetheless, because that's what happens when a man and boy have sex. I know all the details, about how the sphincter muscle stretches over time, about how the pros- tate, which secretes the fluid for sperm to swim, is also a place of pleasure for a boy. Even a sexually immature boy like Kelly. I'm fascinated, I suppose. The problem is that it's not just an inch or two inside. I could accept David doing that, I think. But it isn't. His thing goes all the way inside Kelly. He isn't as big as most boys his age. In fact, he's rather narrow at the hips. I think of the photographs I've seen on the Internet of boys having anal sex with men. The man's thing always looks so big compared to the boy. That hole between the boy's buttocks always looks so small to take it without getting torn. David says it doesn't hurt him any more. Kelly won't really talk about it with me. His face gets red and so does mine. I change the subject. "Do you think I should heat up some of that low-calorie maple syrup for his waffle? I know you don't want him getting fat." "For heaven's sake, Susan, he isn't going to get fat. You worry about that far more than I do. He's much too active to have to worry about that." "I suppose. He just looks so nice and slim. I made fruit salad especially for him. For you too, of course,... but he needs it more than you." David laughs. He often makes fun of what he calls my dietary single-mindedness. It's important to keep him regular. David really doesn't understand. He says he does, but when Kelly's constipated it's always me who he turns to for help. "You'll make sure that he eats some though, won't you David? He never does what I tell him." "Yes, just for you Sis. I'll do anything to keep the peace. Lots of fruit for Kelly." He smiles at me, then winks, binding me into the conspiracy of his love for Kelly. I laugh inside. I know what he meant to say. `Kelly is mine now and there is nothing you can do about it, so get used to the idea.' We have a family secret. A lot of families have something they want to keep well-hidden, but not like us. David leans back against the counter and smiles. I keep won- dering what he's thinking. "That son of yours is a horny little devil, Susan," he says deliberately. "Of course, you knew that already, didn't you." He smiles again. Something's amusing to him. Maybe, it's me, about how I feel about my son. He teases me because I don't like it. Why does he have to rub my nose in it? It isn't because Kelly's my son. He loves Kelly as much as I do. He does it because I love him, because he knows that before he came along, I used to play with Kelly's little thing. "He had me tie him up again last night, Susan. I think he really gets off on it. Last night, he must have,..." "He must have what, David?" I ask absently. My mind is else- where temporarily. The red indicator light has finally gone out. It's time to put another waffle into the machine. I scoop out some more of the mix. He smirks knowingly. I hate it when he does that. All-knowing David, why can't he just come out and say it. "I was going to say that he had half-a-dozen orgasms." He says it very matter-of-factly, almost proudly, as if announcing that Kelly's team has won a soccer match. "Oh? Oh! You're joking." He isn't. His smile says that. "He had at least that many, and maybe more, Susan. Hard to believe, I suppose, but the little bugger just kept on and on,.... I stopped counting at six," he ends flippantly. He sips some of his coffee. It's probably getting cold. "That many? Is that normal? It's not, is it? Even for a boy his age? I remember you saying something about him having more because he doesn't ejaculate,... but six?" "Believe me, I was surprised too. He nearly wore me out. The thing is, he really likes being tied up, Susan. That's what caused it." "That's silly! Our Kelly? You're saying he's,... he's weird?" David shrugs. He's so unflappable. "No, not weird exactly, Susan. But let's face it. He's always been a bit,... well dif- ferent, hasn't he?" "I suppose so. It wasn't your idea, was it David? The tying up thing, I mean." David glowers at me. He loves Kelly far too much to ever take advantage of him. He only does what Kelly wants. It's always been like that. I think that's why I don't get upset. Kelly's in safe hands with him. "No. It was his! Of course, it was his idea, Susan. He wanted me to play one of his games again, but I said it was getting boring. So he came up with a different idea." Last time Kelly was a settler's boy who met a savage Indian on the range, a Mescalero or Apache. He was kidnapped and taken to be initiated, a sort of crude takeoff of Teglin's story about Wishus. Before that, he was a young cowboy who was captured by a cattle rustler. Then, David's story about a half-breed boy was the cause. David would remember the oth- ers. He's like that. He never forgets anything our precious Kelly does. What is it this time? David doesn't wait for me to ask. "He's very inventive. He wanted me to be a pirate, the scourge of the Exumas or some such thing." "Where did he get that from?" "Hm,... No idea. I think some of it came from him reading parts of `Paradise'," David answers. I didn't realize that David's new story is that far along. I've talked about the plot with him and I read an early draft of a few chapters. It's a new style for him. He's very good. "I don't see what that's got to do with him getting tied up?" "Kelly was supposed to be one of the boys on Candy Cay. I had to take him hostage, although I'm not exactly sure why." David smiles meaningfully. "Then, I had to tie him up and rape him." "So much for him reading your stories. He'd probably be bet- ter off watching cable TV." David laughs. "If it wasn't my stories, he'd find something else to read, Susan. We both know that there's some real trash on the Net. He could a lot worse than read Ganymede. Maybe it would have been some of your pictures?" he jokes. He's right, of course. "Do you want him getting off looking at your boys instead?" My boys. He knows that hurts. I turn my head. My boys. Why are boys so beautiful? Like Kelly? Then, just when they become really interesting, they start turning into men. "Very funny. Of course not. But I don't want you putting ideas in his head." "I don't have to. Kelly already knows what he wants, Susan. How many other ten-year-old boys have sex every weekend? How old was he when he came out and said he wanted to start sleeping in my bed? Eight?" Whenever he talks about Kelly, he makes it sound like it's my fault that he's gay. I don't think it's deliberate. It's just how it sounds to me. Everything that's a problem is my fault. I try to smile. It isn't all that important to me, not like it is to David. He's in love with Kelly. Hopelessly in love. We both know it. Kelly does too. He's in love with David. I've had to face it for two years now. All I really care about is Kelly's happiness, and David's too, I suppose. I nod my head. "He'd just turned eight." "That's my point. I'll say this for him. He's as queer as any boy I've ever written about," David confides. "David, now you're exaggerating. He's just a little boy." "That has nothing to do with it. He's really into it, and you know it." "Into what, David? You mean having sex with you?" "Yes, but I was also thinking of the control thing, Susan. He loves to be told what to do." "Only by you." If I sound resentful it's because I am. I don't mind that Kelly only does what David tells him. He all but ignores me, but I don't mind that. Not really. What I mind is?.... What do I mind? That David gets to have sex with him and I don't? He does whatever David tells him to do. Why can't I have sex with Kelly? God, just tell me what to do. I'll do anything. Anything at all. David's lucky he's a man. Kelly does love me, but he never shows it, not in the way I want. David grins. "Maybe there's a reason for that." "I expect there is. He has you telling him what to do all the time." There, I said it! I know I shouldn't have said it. It's dif- ficult seeing Kelly spending all his time with David. I can't help feeling the way I do. He's so,... so very beautiful. He's my son too. I love him in a way I shouldn't. David usually ignores my envy. He's used to it. Usually, he makes it worse. "Susan, you should have seen his face when I started tying him up. I didn't ask him how he wanted it done. Not like last time. I just did it. His dick got so hard I thought it was going to snap off." David nods to emphasize his point. "Susan, I put some belts around his arms and legs and buckled them up so he couldn't move. He was so excited he could barely breath. He even wanted a belt around his neck, too." "Why on earth?" "He wanted it tied to the bed. I thought that was a bit too much, but that was what he wanted me to do." "He wanted you to do that?" "Of course, I didn't. It was much too dangerous. But it got me thinking,..." "Maybe a necklace or something?" I suggest. "A thick gold one that's like a choker?" "That might do,..." David agrees slowly. He's given it a lot of thought. It's one of the reasons why I trust him with Kelly. Trust, now there's a silly thing to say. I trust him to fuck my son's butt. I smile, imagining again. David's big thing and Kelly's little rump lifted up in the air. They do it on top of the pillows sometimes. I've seen the spots and smears to prove it. "He likes it, Susan. I think the reason why he wanted the belt on his neck was because he wanted to be completely exposed to me. He got off even before I finished tying him up." He pauses and glances behind him to make sure that Kelly is still watching the television. "Susan?" "Yes, David?" "Hm, I'm not sure how to put this. I knew last night was going to be a bit weird from the way he was carrying on. I don't think I've seen him so horny. Except that last time, of course." It's time to cook the third waffle. It'll be Kelly's so I sprinkle some chocolate chips into the batter and stir them in. David makes himself useful and refills our coffee cups, pours a glass of milk for Kelly. "Last night,...David," I begin awkwardly. I have to keep talking about it. I would give anything to have been in their bedroom, watching. David knows. He inclines his head. He doesn't have to guess what's coming. "You were doing it with him for an hour. I heard you." He laughs the same way he does whenever he thinks I'm being ridiculous. "You were watching the clock, Susan?" "No, of course not. It's just,... well I couldn't go to sleep, not with all the noise the two of you were making. No wonder he was sore this morning." "It wasn't that bad. If you must know, I wasn't fucking him all that time, Susan." "It certainly sounded like you were. What were you doing with him then?" David blushes, momentarily lost for words. I feel a little better inside. He almost never blushes. Not even when we talk about what he does with Kelly. I know my face gets hot all the time. I could lie and tell myself it's early menopause, but it's not that. It's thinking about Kelly that does it. It's getting hot now. It's hot and itchy between my legs. It's knowing what David did to him last night. But if not that, then what was he doing? David gives in with an embarassed laugh. "Okay, okay. Actu- ally, I used the dildo in him for most of the time, Susan." He means the pink rubber thing, I know he does. The thing that David bought on the Internet for Kelly to use during the week. It's not as big as David's cock. It looks just like it, though. It even has little balls on the end of it. It looks more like Kelly's dick, even though it must be nearly twice the size of his. I wonder what David would say if he knew I measured it last Thursday. They shouldn't leave things lying around if he doesn't want me to find them. I could do that to Kelly. If he let me,... I'm lost for words. I stare at David. All I can think of is what it would be like to slide that thing into Kelly's bottom. "There's nothing to worry about. It isn't all that big, Susan." David's right, of course. Five inches isn't very big. I've seen enough pictures of men's things to know that. I wonder how it feels for him. For Kelly, of course, but I wouldn't dare ask him. All I know is from reading what David writes. I might think about it, but I'd never do something like that with Kelly. At least, I don't think I would. I wonder what it feels like for him. Kelly doesn't seem to have any qualms about using it. He puts it in when he's sitting around watch- ing TV. I've never seen him do it, only after he sits back down beside David, both of them beneath Kelly's blanket. Then he's always smiling. I expect he likes things like that because he's gay. I have to think of something else. I begin to place the waffles on the plates. "Would you like some more coffee, David?" "Not this morning." He laughs. "I'll get Kelly." He ambles off, calling out, "Hey Bucky Beaver. Chow time. Come and get it." David's so close to Kelly. He understands him much better than I do. Men and boys were made to be together. I love to watch them together. They're like two boys especially when they play those computer games. It's like David hasn't grown up. Or Kelly makes him young again. He's beaming. I wonder what David said to him. "Mom, David said we're getting a puppy!" Kelly shouts from the family room.