Date: Sat, 15 Dec 2001 23:54:14 -0000
From: kweer <kweer@lineone.net>
Subject: Sweet Sanctuary

I suppose you could say that this story is fiction. It came from a very
vivid dream that I had one night, one of those rare occasions when I was
able to remember almost every detail. It has the worst ending in the
history of literature, but blame my subconscious for that.

Comments welcome: kweer@lineone.net

7th October 1997.


I could hear the distant sound of dogs, whistles, and the shouting of male
voices. They couldn't have been more than a few hundred yards behind us,
and I reckoned they were catching-up fast. I felt like they had been
chasing us for days, but it was really just an hour or so. We had to do
something. If they got hold of us we were in serious trouble. Dead
meat. Our legs and lungs were all but exhausted, but we had to go on and on
until we could reach some kind of sanctuary. When I thought about how long
we had been running, I was amazed to find that I wasn't in a great deal of
pain, but then I suppose adrenaline can do wonders for a guy. It is truly a
fantastic drug, better than any amphetamine I have ever taken. It provides
seemingly endless bursts of energy, whilst simultaneously controlling the
pain that I certainly should have been experiencing.

As we came over the top of a steep bank, we saw the stream. I remembered
seeing a film in which the protagonist had made good an escape by running
downstream, the theory being that dogs cannot track a scent through water.
We wordlessly decided that this was the only way to go, with an exchange of
looks, and a nod by way of a reply, from my brother. I don't think I could
have spoken even if I had wanted to. My throat, mouth and lips were covered
in a viscous saliva that was more like mucus and it would have taken
valuable time and breath to even begin to clear it enough to speak.  We
began our descent at breakneck pace, jumping high over tree stumps and
thickets where we could not discern a definite footing. Each time I leapt
over an obstacle, I was airborne forever, and I began to believe that there
was some intangible force lifting me clear to the next patch of visible
earth, a guiding hand that made sure I remained in the air until I reached
the next uncluttered spot in the dense woods.

My brother wasn't so lucky. I suppose that taking care of both of us was
too much for one guardian angel to handle efficiently. He took off on a
massive leap, clearing what must have been nearly ten metres of the hill,
before coming back down with a loud crack. I heard the scream and thought
'Game Over'. As I approached, he was lying reclined against a thick patch
of undergrowth, holding his left leg off the ground and panting, wearing a
look of pure mortification. I could see the tears in his eyes already. I
called his name, concerned for him as much as myself and he responded with
the look that I was expecting. It was the look that said 'I'm fucked, and
if you stay here with me, you will be too.' I knew what was coming. My
mouth also knew, as it turned down at the edges, and I felt that burning
sensation in my nostrils that told me I was going to cry. I swallowed hard
and blinked several times rapidly in a futile attempt to pre-empt the tears
that were welling up behind my eyes. I shook my head defiantly and started
to kneel beside him, but he stopped me from doing so by bracing himself
against the ground and locking his right arm, extended and connecting with
my shoulder. He looked at me and nodded. 'Go', he was saying.

I brushed his arm away and launched myself around him in a tight hug that
could only last a few seconds, but they were vital seconds - it just had to
be done. I pulled back slightly from the embrace and pressed my cheek to
his In order to allow our tears for ourselves and each other to mingle in
an everlasting bond. Then I knew it was time to go. Without speaking, I
jumped to my feet and turned to run. I knew that if I was going to make it,
I would have to banish all thoughts of my brother from my mind and devote
all of my concentration to the ground before me if I was to avoid finding
myself in the same predicament. It was not easy. To try and instantaneously
cancel all the grief and guilt took some doing, and I was almost glad that
the terrain was such hard going.

As I came to the bottom of the hill, I had to try to run in a tight arc
across the bark and twigs that were scattered over the flattened banks of
the stream, so that I could change my course to run with the water. I was
about a foot away from the water's edge when my foot slid away from me and
then took a hold again, causing me to flip into the water. Surges of pain
shot around various parts of my body as they collided with stones lying at
the bottom of the stream. It couldn't have been more than eight inches deep
at that point and so, was of little value in terms of breaking my fall. I
lay there silently for a few seconds listening for any sounds coming from
the hill, but there were none. No dogs and no voices. For that brief
moment, I experienced a kind of peace and tranquility that I was not
expecting. It was as though everything in my fucked-up world was suddenly
stable and organised. I had to get going. I heard the dogs barking again,
and the cold of the water was causing my muscles to ache severely,
overshadowing the pain in my elbows and knees, grazed and swollen from the
fall.

I staggered to my feet and made slow progress downstream. If I ran through
the water, they would surely hear me splashing and would know which
direction I was heading in. After I had gone a hundred metres or so, I
stopped and looked up to the tops of the trees. The spidery upper limbs of
the elms swayed slightly, telling me that I was downwind of my pursuers.
Time for a change of plan. I stepped out of the water and onto the bank,
taking care to avoid leaving any visible signs of my new direction as I
headed diagonally back up the hill, still going downwind. I heard the sound
of water splashing and paused. After a few seconds, the sounds subsided and
I knew that for the moment, my double-back strategy was paying off. Spurred
on by my new-found hope, I almost strode back up the hill, taking large
steps and making good headway through the undergrowth. It was hard going,
but I had to get further away before they realised that the dogs had lost
my scent, and doubled-back themselves.

Fifty yards further on, the hill gradually levelled out and I was more glad
than ever of the cover that the woods afforded me. The trees were becoming
more uniform now, ranks of silent soldiers, stirring slightly in the
wind. This was decidedly dodgy ground. If my hunters did come this way,
they could form a line taking one corridor each and I would easily be
discovered. I looked around desperately, and suddenly there it was, a
fairly large wooden building. I ran the first hundred yards, then slowed
down and approached as furtively as I could.  There were a couple of
exterior lights on, but no people in evidence. I brushed down my clothes
with my hands, tried to smooth my hair into place, and walked toward the
place, trying to act casually.

The walls were made up of dark louvered planks and the smell of fresh
creosote became stronger as I neared. I reckoned that it was some kind of
hostel-cum-outdoor activities centre. The place must have been built fairly
recently as it all looked so perfect. I decided to walk around to make sure
there really was no-one about. There were no lights on in any of the rooms
visible from the outside, so the coast appeared to be clear. I was now on
the opposite side of the hostel to my pursuers. Before entering, I had to
lay another false trail so I ran away from the building for a hundred yards
or so, then climbed a few metres up into a tree, before jumping down and
running back to the hostel. There were still no audible signs of the pack
chasing me, so I figured I would be safe inside for a while. If they made
it this far and discovered my second double-back, I would be able to see
them from inside the building and run back along my path to the stream
again. At least it would buy me some time to rest a little and quench my
raging thirst.

Back at the hostel, I found a window partially open, which I managed to
lift all the way and climb inside, being careful to close it afterwards.
The room I was now in was a changing room. The edges of the floor were
covered with hiking boots and training shoes. In a corner was a large
wheeled basket with the lid open. I peered inside for no real reason and
was greeted with the sight and particularly the smell of dozens of pairs of
underwear in different colours. I took a deep breath through my nostrils
and almost melted with the musky smell of sweaty crotches. I knew I didn't
have time for this sort of thing, but I had to have a quick rummage to find
out what kind of people frequented the place. I found shorts and underwear
mostly between sizes 30'' and 34''. The style of the other clothing I found
suggested young men, and I could not stop myself from grabbing a couple of
pairs of briefs and taking a deep smell of each of them. It was a sweetly
familiar scent, and as it filled my nostrils, I could feel my heart rate
speeding up, and my own briefs tightening. I remember thinking how
ridiculous it was for me to be so distracted from the all-important task of
getting away from the mob that hunted me, but found myself wishing I had
the time to indulge myself in the smell of male genitalia. Butterflies
swarmed around my guts, and I couldn't focus my mind at all. There was
nothing else for it. I sat down on a fixed wooden bench, put a pair of
boxer shorts to my nose, and slid my right hand into my joggers. Exquisite!
I stroked myself as I sampled scent after scent until I came to one that
was particularly potent. I pressed my face into them, and almost
immediately, I went totally solid. I tried to imagine the face and body
that belonged to this delightful aroma, picturing your garden variety cute
eighteen year-old and pretending that he was still inside the lycra boxers
as I nuzzled into them. I closed my eyes and put my head back, but kept
listening for any noises from the outside.

I could feel my prostate gland straining to push wave upon wave of
lubricant to the tip of my penis, and began gently rubbing the front of my
glans where the foreskin had torn years earlier, leaving a tiny nipple of
flesh that was now so sensitive that the pleasure I got from it was so
intense, it was almost painful. All of a sudden, I sensed that something
was wrong and opened my eyes to find someone watching me from the
doorway. I quickly removed my right hand and pretended to be blowing my
nose on the material of the shorts. The observer wasn't convinced, and
sported a smirk that said 'Don't bother, I know what you're doing'. I was
blushing deeply and desperate to find something to say, but nothing was
forthcoming, so I looked up at the stranger and gave a coy little shrug to
acknowledge the fact that he had caught me with my trousers down as it
were. In reply he simply smiled a little wider and shrugged his lip to say
'Who am I to judge?' It was then that I noticed the bulge in the front of
his uniform slacks. He caught me looking and lowered his eyes from mine for
a fraction of a second, reddening slightly, but then his gaze found mine
again, and I smiled knowingly back. He made a point of stroking himself
through his pants, closing his eyes a couple of times and sighing.

I asked him how long he had been standing there, but he responded with an
apologetic gesture of apparent non-comprehension. I shrugged and shook my
head a couple of times, saying 'never mind'. I looked him over and studied
his beautiful young features. Not a single blemish on his tanned boyish
face, save for a tiny mole on his left cheek. That perfect imperfection
made him look even cuter and I could feel myself getting hard again. He
would have been around nineteen. His short dark hair complemented his face
wonderfully, and the smile,....Oh!  I think he was appraising me at the
same time, because his benevolent smile never moved. Faced with such silent
and turgid compliments, I saw no other alternative and patted the bench,
inviting him to come and sit beside me.

He approached tentatively and was about to sit when the sound of the dogs
came filtering through to my consciousness, bringing me back down to earth
with a horrible crash. I panicked and leapt up to the window, frantically
looking for signs of my ex-captors and their pack of diligent hounds. Just
then, I caught sight of one of the dogs bounding towards the window and
dived to the left, pressing myself up against the wall. I looked at the
other lad with obvious terror on my face, my fingers knitted together, in a
begging pose, before putting a finger to my lips and shhhh-ing softly. He
looked confused at first, and I saw that he was thinking about what he
should do, faced with someone apparently on the run, probably from the
authorities. He strode purposefully to the window and drew the curtains
together, then took my arm and lightly led me out of the room. I noticed
little of the decor and furnishings of the hostel as he pulled my arm
gently after him. When we reached what seemed to be a dead-end, he lifted
the plain brown carpet away from the floor, revealing a trap-door that he
motioned me to open, before running back down the alleyway. I was confused
about where he was going, and waited a moment until I heard his footsteps
returning.

As I fiddled with the latch of the trap-door, I looked up to see him
twisting a black pepper mill, frantically trying to cover as much as
possible of the carpet at the open end of the corridor I was in. He
disappeared again for a moment, then came to help me with the latch. There
was a knack to it, which he had obviously learned, and the door lifted up
to reveal a crude and dimly lit stairway which he urged me to descend. I
obeyed and went down the dozen or so steps that were carved out of the hard
earth. I turned to see him holding the carpet in place, and lowering the
door down, locking it back into place. He turned to me and grinned proudly,
his gestures asking me what I thought of the little cavern that we were
standing in. I looked around, nodding to convey that I was impressed at how
well it all seemed to have been dug out and strengthened with timber. I
pointed to him questioningly and waved a hand around the room. He nodded
but shook his hand from side to side, so I guessed that he had some help.

He led me to a darkened corner where he flicked a switch illuminating a
mattress covered with what looked like fresh bedding. It looked like a
perfect place for an escapee to rest after a hard day's running-scared, so
I allowed myself to collapse into it's softness. Lying on my back, I let
out a huge sigh. As I lay motionless and allowed my breathing and pulse to
settle down, I looked up at him and said thank you in as many languages as
I could. After about the seventh one, he got the message and simply grinned
back at me. I reached a hand up and gently pulled him down to the bed. It
was only when he was nearer to me that I could see his eyes welling up. A
tear trickled down his right cheek as he looked at me with sympathy and
genuine affection. I sat up and clasped his hand in mine. I bowed my head
and pressed my lips to the back of his hand. He looked so damned sweet
sitting there smiling beautifully and blushing a little, that I couldn't
stop myself from reaching a hand around the back of his neck and leaning
forward to kiss the tear away. He had both my hands in his then, and we
just sat for a while staring deep into each other's souls, before it all
became too much and we burst out laughing and fell sideways so that we were
horizontal. He lay his head on my chest and slipped a warm hand under my
sweatshirt, letting it just rest on my ribs. Contentment descended on me
like a collapsing marquee and I suppose I must have nodded off.

I awoke days later, or so it seemed. He was still there beside me, his head
propped up on his elbow, gazing at me as I opened my eyes. We both smiled.
His right hand was tracing delicate circles around my left nipple, now
almost as hard as my penis. He leaned forwards and gave me a peck on the
cheek, then withdrew to see my reaction. I looked coyly away for a moment,
then returned the favour by shuffling down the bed a little until our heads
were level and ever so lightly pressing my lips onto his. We lay
intertwined for an age, exchanging delicate staccato kisses. Although we
were caressing each other's upper bodies, he made no move to take things
any further. Instead, he rose and opened a small fridge at the foot of the
bed that I hadn't noticed previously. He returned with a huge paper cup and
placed it to my lips to drink. It was fresh orange juice, the
freshly-squeezed kind with the little cells in it, one of my favourite
thirst quenchers. I took a large mouthful and rinsed my mouth with it
before swallowing, then took a few small sips to lubricate my parched
throat.

I lay my head back on the bed and he placed the cup on the dirt floor, then
lay down beside me again. This time when he kissed me, he allowed our
tongues to touch and dance together, whilst his free hand was pushing my
sweatshirt up. We separated and he sat astride me to remove it. His
buttocks rested on his ankles as he knelt, so all but the slightest
pressure of his backside rested against my swollen member. I followed his
eyes as they explored my chest, and I began undoing the buttons of his
khaki uniform shirt. His chest was as I had hoped it would be, smooth and
tanned and almost devoid of pectoral muscle. Sheer beauty. As I ran my
hands over his perfect, hairless torso, his shifted his feet so that more
of his weight was directed down onto my penis. He exhaled a deep sigh
through his nose and lowered his eyelids slightly in pleasure. I unbuttoned
his cuffs and pulled off his shirt as he began rocking back and forth on
me. I sat up and kissed him on the side of the neck, whilst my hands went
around his waist and one stroked the small of his back, the other caressed
his tense buttocks. I could feel the base of his penis was now rock hard
against the tip of mine. He gently pushed me away and knelt up on the bed,
pulling me with him, then starting to undo the cotton cord that tied around
the top of my sweatpants. I had just managed to unbuckle his pants and open
them up as he pushed my own, together with my underwear, down to my
knees. When we were both bottomless, we pressed our bodies together with an
urgent pressure and I could feel the heat from his hardness all the way up
to my navel. My-oh-my, he was a big lad. We stayed like that for a while,
just pressed together and caressing each other. I could have carried on
like that forever, but he had other ideas. He lay down again and pulled me
on top of him, so that our erections were squashed side by side into one
another's skin. I clearly remember thinking that if my pleasure became any
more intense, I would surely cum, but he disproved that theory by kissing
me really deeply. His tongue was almost at the back of my throat. I then
felt his long dextrous fingers brushing the hairs in the cleavage of my
buttocks, occasionally stroking the sphincter itself. I let out a long low
moan that wasn't intended. He responded by raising his legs and crossed his
feet in the middle of my back. He shoved my shoulders pushing me gently
further down the bed, until the wet tip of my cock was only just nudging at
the gates of heaven. He looked deep into my eyes and nodded, pulling the
backs of my legs towards him in case there was any misunderstanding of what
he wanted. I smiled as mischievously as I could and shook my head
slightly. He looked concerned for a few seconds and tensed-up, but I felt
his relax as I licked my way lower and lower down his abdomen. My hands
ever so lightly stroked his thighs, then I slid them under him and down
past his buttocks until they got to a place where I could use them to lever
his legs up. I pressed my nose into the crease of his crotch and filled my
nostrils with his musk. I melted again. It felt as though all of the
solidity of my body had somehow transferred itself into my impossibly
turgid penis. I opened my mouth to extend my tongue and began to trace a
path down past his balls and around his hole. He really stiffened now and
involuntarily clamped his thighs around my neck hard enough to hurt a
little. I raised my hands and prised his legs apart again before brushing
my tongue up across his rosebud, leaving a rivulet of saliva. He softened
and gave into what I was doing with utter compliance. I pressed myself into
him just enough to tease before returning to orbiting the centre. When I
felt that he wasn't expecting it, I suddenly pushed the tip of my tongue as
far into him as I could, feeling my neck muscles straining with the
effort. I was surprised that he didn't tense up again, so I withdrew and
pushed in again quickly causing him to gasp like someone who had just had a
bucket of icy-cold water thrown over them.

I kept tongue-fucking him until my neck really began to ache, then I kissed
his hole as if it were his mouth. I raised my head and began to move back
up his body, my gaze fixed into his. He looked back, his eyes as wide as
golf balls and, pursing his lips, he exhaled from the depths of his soul to
say "wow, that was unbelievably good!" As my face neared his he put his
left hand on the back of my neck and drew our mouths together kissing me
hard and deep, our tongues dancing like tree-tops on a windy day. His other
hand, he placed on my left buttock drawing my manhood closer to the
entrance. He then let out a slight whimper, the kind of noise a dog would
make scratching at a door, begging to be let out. He wanted it. Wanted it
bad!

As I took my time to push into him, I could feel him relaxing gradually
until the head was inside. He was moaning now, and panting with each
further centimetre that I was penetrating. Before long, my length was as
far inside him as it would go. We gazed into one another's eyes,
concentrating on spiritually cementing the physical bond between us. He
clenched and relaxed his muscles around me a few times. I took this as a
sign that he needed fucking and began easing in and out of him. This lad
had fantastic muscle control! He let me know exactly how I was to go about
it by prompting me with the rhythm of his contractions. Our pace increased
slowly but steadily until I was ramming him with a dedication. Our rhythms
had attained perfect synchronicity, even at this pace. This was going to be
a brief but highly intense encounter, particularly since he was working a
finger inside me and wiggling it about randomly enough to ensure that he
tickled that very special place quite regularly. Heavenly. The fingernails
of his other hand dug deeper into the flesh of my buttocks, and he fixed me
with a look of pure ecstasy, his breathing turned to panting and my knowing
how close he was to orgasm was bringing me rapidly along with him. We
couldn't have been going at it like this for more than a few minutes, but
to me it was just the right amount of time. The pressure at the base of my
manhood became heavier and my scrotum tightened with the imminence of
ejaculation. I had begun to moan in time with my thrusting, but it must
have been a little loud, as he pulled his nails from my flesh and tried to
cover my mouth to hide the noise. I got the point and transmogrified my
voice into the expressions that I wore.

I looked at his face, now more delicious than ever with the detached look
of someone totally immersed in the pleasure he was experiencing. I couldn't
take any more. I had to cum. The muscles along the tops of my thighs went
into spasms. Any second now. I looked down just in time to see his cock
twitch a couple of times, then shoot a lightning bolt of semen that bounced
off his flat stomach and landed under his chin. I immediately lowered my
head to kiss and lick his throat clean, tasting his delicious salty
essence, then I felt a surging from deep, inside me and made one final full
thrust without withdrawing. My head threw itself back and my spine arched
in the most improbable way as I pumped wave after wave of warm sperm deep
into him. We remained like this for about ten or twenty seconds until my
orgasm fizzled away to nothing, leaving me completely drained, Physically
and mentally.  I fell forwards onto his chest and bit him on the shoulder,
stopping short of causing him actual pain. His hands were pulling me onto
him as if he were attempting to fuse us together, but he released my head,
allowing me to raise it and take in the wondrous sight of his flushed,
handsome features. I remember thinking that if all gay sex was this good,
women would become an endangered species. Man, I felt so good as I stared
through the glassy windows of his soul, where we connected on the same
level, and started to giggle at each other. He unlocked me from the grip of
his legs and I withdrew and lay beside him, nuzzling his earlobe while he
fumbled around wiping himself down, before producing a rather sorry looking
joint and lighting it with a windproof gas lighter. He passed it to me and
I took a long pull on it, savouring the familiar spicy taste and trying not
to cough it all back out again. It had been a fair while since my last one,
and the effects came fast and strong. Within minutes, I was feeling my head
starting to go numb and everything I was hearing had a slight echo to it as
if I was hanging on to this dimension by the skin of my teeth. My head got
heavier and heavier until I could not support it any longer. I lay back and
turned into him, the tip of my nose just touching him underneath his ear. I
laid my left arm across him and surrendered to the oblivion that followed
within seconds.

The next time I awoke he was still there beside me. I swear I have never
been so comfortable sharing a small bed with someone. We were intertwined
impossibly, but even so I had slept undisturbed. We fitted together like
the proverbial spoons in a drawer. I saw that he was still asleep and took
my time to look at his every discernible minute detail. I would have got an
erection immediately, were it not that I already had one. He looked somehow
cuter than before. I suppose when a person sleeps, their facial muscles
relax into themselves and you get to see the true beauty behind even the
most closely guarded of expressions.

In slumber, he was yet more perfect. His mouth formed a slight crescent,
like he was smirking, but it was just the way his face was lying. As I
watched his eyes darting around underneath his eyelids, I wondered what he
was dreaming, what he was thinking about, and most of all, whether any of
it was about me. This was unbelievable. I know I can fall for someone at
the drop of a hat, but to feel this way about a guy whom had happened upon
me under the most extraordinary and embarrassing circumstances, defied all
logic. How did I have time for all of this? What had happened to my
brother? My life was practically at risk, so do I spend all my time trying
to figure a way out of this predicament? No. Do I fuck! I'm far too busy
falling in love and having sex -though not necessarily in that order- with
a person that I cannot even hold a conversation with. Fucking crazy,
really. But what the hell! I'm not exactly renowned for my timing.

I suppose he must have sensed that I was watching him, because when he
opened his eyes, they were already looking into mine. He smiled one of his
smiles and I melted again. My pulse started to race and my body went
limp. Oh, well, here we go again! You know that feeling you get -or, at
least I do- when you look at someone and you just know that you could
happily spend the rest of your life with them. Well, that's the sort of
thing that was spinning around my head. I was falling fast. Big time. Then,
without warning, my tear ducts went into overdrive, and next thing I know,
I'm sobbing uncontrollably into his shoulder. I knew why. So did he. All
good things come to an end sooner or later, but I found myself raging with
anger at the person who first coined the phrase. What a sad, pessimistic
bastard. I think I was so annoyed because I was aware of the ephemerality
of everything in life, and indeed, life itself. It was all too much for me
to contain, so my body and soul conspired yet again to break my own
heart. I remember wishing that he would break it for me, so at least I
would have some bitterness inside me to help disguise the pain. -Now who's
the sad, pessimistic bastard?

I sat upright in a state of confusion, such that I couldn't decide which of
the billion or so emotions was predominating. I rubbed my face dry and
tried to get it together. I calmed down enough to look at him, in time to
see a single tear escaping from the corner of his eye and almost falling
into his ear. He was still smiling, though. A benevolent smile that only he
could do justice to. To this day I find myself fascinated by the ineffable
empathy that he apparently shared with me. I wiped away the trail of his
tear and kissed him lightly on the forehead to show my appreciation. He
glowed with understanding, but then a mischievous look washed over him. He
gently pushed me away and leapt to his feet, crossing the room to the
cupboard. He fumbled around briefly and returned with a uniform that
matched his. He pointed to a large bucket of water and a towel in a rounded
corner. Excellent! I could finally get myself washed and into some clean
clothes. I jumped up and almost ran to the bucket as a child running to the
xmas tree to begin opening presents. The water was lovely and cool. With
each soaping and rinsing, I felt as though I was washing all of my cares
from me, and by the time I was finished, I felt like a new man. I was clean
and respectable looking again. When I peered into the bucket and saw the
murk within it, I wondered how he could possibly have found me at all
attractive in my previous shabby state. He produced a small fragment of
mirror and a comb, holding it for me while I teased and tugged my ratted
hair back into some sort of order. Now he was the one who wore a child's
xmas joy. I'm not exactly what you would call drop-dead-gorgeous, but the
transformation from a tramp to a uniform -whatever it was for- seemed to
please him immensely. High praise indeed, coming from this beauty.

He took up my old clothes and sealed them inside two rubbish bags, one
inside the other. He waved his hand for me to follow him, and led the way
back out of the room and into the corridor once more. The place was still
deserted. Not a single soul. Not a single murmur disturbed what I guessed
to be very early morning, from the dull light that was filtering through
the curtains. We crept our way to the door and headed off back into the
woods. I was somewhat on edge, but he kept flashing me smiles of
reassurance, and that helped a little. A lot actually. I felt able to trust
him with my life, which was, in essence what I was doing. We got to a
slight clearing, surrounded on all sides by the cover of the trees, and sat
down on the bark floor. He showed me his watch which said 06:49, then held
up eight fingers, pointed at himself and me and made a gesture that I took
to mean we would be going somewhere at that time. For now though, we had a
little time to kill. We arranged some stones in a circle and built a small
fire, using it to burn my rags. Then we made love. We didn't have sex, we
made love. No anal penetration, just kissing; stroking; licking and
sucking. Two bonded souls enjoying the pleasures of one another's
bodies. It was beautiful. I had been on the verge of another terrific
orgasm for most of it, and when I finally gave in to it, it blew me away.
We came in perfect synchronicity in each other's mouths. He licked his lips
and wiped his mouth, whilst I tried to spit as gracefully as I could, and
we dressed again. The fire was all but extinguished, so we finished it off
by stamping and scraping what soil we could find onto it.

As we made our way back to the hostel, I noted with panic that it was a
hive of activity. The parents had come to collect their sons, but for now,
they stood apart from them. The parents watching proudly while the lads
muttered to each other in what I had guessed to be Polish, having tried at
one stage to learn some of it myself. The relative tranquility of the
morning was shattered by three blasts on a siren, and the groups merged. My
friend took me along with him. I was seriously nervous now. We were
approaching a huge man. My friend exchanged happy faces with him. So this
is where he came from. The next thing that happened thrust me into utter
confusion, before the moment of clarity came upon me, and I suddenly knew
all.

"Dzien dobry papa! Co svlihach!" Called my friend.

"Ey-up Jamie, lad!" Returned the man. "Didst th' ave a good taahm then?"

"Aye dad, it were brilliant. Me Polish is cummin' on grand, now."

"Glad t' hear it lad. Glad t' hear it." He beamed. "And 'ooz this, then?"

"This is me mate, dad. Can 'ee stay wi' us fer a few days?"

"Aye, son, course 'ee can." The man turned to me and offered his hand,
which I took and gripped in one of my firmest handshakes. "Ted's the name
lad, an' yer can stay wi' us as long as yer bloody-well like, as long as
yer've no one to answer to."

"Thanks a lot, Ted. That's very kind of you." I blurted. "I'm Dave, by the
way."

"And 'ow's your  Polish gettin' on?"

"Well, not as good as Jamie's, but I think I'm getting there."

"Grand, lad, grand. Nah, then, yoo too, let's get usselves 'ome, eh?" With
that he turned and led the way to the car park that I had not seen, a
hundred yards along a dusty and worn track through the trees. Jamie and I
followed slowly, to put some distance between us and Ted.

 I tried unsuccessfully to avoid thinking about what had become of my
brother. I would know soon enough, once I could get to a phone. The
authorities would have all the details by now. I wondered also how my new
friend would react when he discovered the real reason for my being at the
hostel. Perhaps he didn't want to know.

 Jamie stopped and offered me his hand, with a wry smile.

"Jamie." He said. "Jamie 'iggins."

"Dave. Dave Harris. Real pleasure meeting you, Jamie." He replied with a
wink and we started after Ted.

"Ah'm sorry 'bout not talkin' an' that, but it's the rules 'ere, see. The'
tell yer that if yer can't express yersel' in Polish, which we're 'ere t'
learn, then yer to find another way, wi'out usin' English. It were fun, aah
reckon. We did alright, though, eh?"

"Who needs English when we have the international language of luurve?" I
said, semi-jokingly. I wasn't sure if "love" was a word that he would have
chosen, but yet again, his goodness came through.

"Ah couldn't agree more." He said. "You know, ah reckon that this is the
strongest feelin' ah've 'ad fer anyone. Ever. 'Ope ah'm not frightenin'
yer."

I could have wept, but I managed an unprecedented spell of self-control,
and instead of breaking down, I put my arm across his shoulder in a
friendly way.

"Not at all. I was going to say something similar, but bottled out at the
last minute."

"Yer can say it now, though."

"I love you Jamie. Really, I mean it."

"I love you an' all Dave. Fuckin' daft, innit? Ah mean, we've only just
met, but ..."

"Aye, lad." I replied in my best northern England stereotype accent. "Me
an' all."

We continued along the path to the car, giggling and joking with each
other, finding yet more fascinating details about ourselves, now that we
had the extra tool of language. At the end of the day, though, we readily
agreed that we'd still have our love even if the language barrier had
remained unbroken.

The End

Hope you liked it, dear reader.
Comments welcome: kweer@lineone.net
Apologies for the phonetic spelling of the stereotype accent!!