Author's Introductory Notes:

Recently, I submitted a story I entitled, "Davey" to the Gay High School section of Nifty. At the time, I had a much more developed plot in mind, but was unsure about having the time to write it. Readers of "Davey" were encouraging, though, and when a couple of other Nifty writers also urged me to expand the story, I began reworking it.

Things happen in rewrites, though, that the author never intended. Characters take on a life of their own, and take off in unexpected directions; this story has departed a bit from Davey. Therefore, I'm posting this expanded rendition as its own, distinct story.

"The Least of These" will run about ten chapters and I will try to post them all within a couple of months (the first four chapters are almost complete). Because most of the story takes place during high school years, I have requested that the story be posted in that section, even though this first chapter, a prolog, concerns the years prior to high school.

I have enjoyed writing for Nifty since I began last summer. New to writing then, my first stories were little more than rough drafts. I was so excited to finally be authoring (something I have always wanted to do) that I wrote and posted as fast as I could get the stories out. However, by the time I wrote my first long story, "Sea Change," I began to slow down and take more time.

This story represents the next step forward for me--the use of editors. I have taken a couple of friends up on their offer to help and for the first time have gotten editing and suggestions on a story before posting. And it has been a blast. I've had sort of a personal writer's workshop. You, the reader may not notice a qualitative difference in the writing, but I have certainly enjoyed a qualitative difference in the writing experience.

I hope you enjoy the story.

I reserve all rights to the story, however, when, as with Nifty, the story is posted at no charge to the reader, permission for posting is gladly given by the author.



CHAPTER 1 My Best Friend

Davey and I were born two weeks apart in June of 1968. We were both only children; my dad died in Viet Nam before I ever knew him and Davey's dad left them and moved to the West Coast when Davey was only five. In the summer of 1974, when we turned six, Davey and his mom moved to our neighborhood of old, mission-style bungalows near the "historic" Monte Vista district of San Antonio.

August in South Texas is hot. I was sitting in the shade of our front porch, watching a mocking bird dive bomb the neighbor's cat. For a kid who was usually by himself, the bird and cat act were great entertainment. I didn't notice the moving van drive past.

I did notice when it stopped at the green house just three houses down from mine. Leaving my porch, I wandered over and stood on the sidewalk in front of the green house in the shade of a mesquite tree.

While I was watching the uniformed men open the van side doors, I heard the house's front screen door open behind me. I turned to see a boy about my age step out onto the porch, clutching a toy plane.

At that age, I had no real acquaintance with beauty of any kind, at least not live and in person. This boy, suddenly just feet from me, filled me with wonder. His features were fine. He had long, almost white hair over a high, broad brow. His large, wide set eyes were deeply blue. His cheeks were flush in the August heat. Like me, he was dressed only in shorts which in his case showed flawless perfection in a six year-old male body.

I come from Italian stock, all black hair and dark eyes, and I lived in a neighborhood full of Hispanics. This blond vision was like something off TV. I looked down at my own skinny, gangling frame and back at him. I was in the presence of some superior being; a prince, a star.

But I was never a shy kid; I walked up the steps and said, "Hi."

Davey looked at me steadily and said nothing.

"I'm Mickey. I live a couple of houses that way," I said, pointing up the street.

Davey's eyes widened and he backed toward the door to his house. But at that moment, his mom came out the screen door behind him, unintentionally blocking his retreat. I looked up at her. A boy is a boy and even at six, I knew this was a beautiful woman. Her hair, eyes, and fine features marked her without a doubt as Davey's mom. Mom and angel. My mouth dropped. She saw me and smiled and my heart thrilled.

"Hey, Davey," she said, "I see you've already made a friend." He backed into her and she held him by the shoulders, while smiling down at me, she said, "This is Davey. David James Carlson. And I'm his mom, Maggie."

There on the front porch, in the reflected light of a bright summer morning, their skin glowed. If she hadn't smiled, I think I would have knelt down and prayed. But she did smile. I liked her. "My name's Mickey. Umm, Michael Anthony Bentolli. Me and my mom live down the street."

"Well Mickey, it's good to meet you. Why don't you and Davey play around the side of the yard so you're out of the mover's way, OK?"

I nodded. "OK. Come on Davey. You can show me your plane." I stepped off the porch, but Davey did not follow."

Maggie sighed. "Davey's a little shy," she said.

I came back up and stood close in front of Davey and tried to sound friendly, "Come on. Let's go play."

He looked at me for a moment and then at his mom. She nodded, and then he reached out and took my hand in his, like a little kid does when you are supposed to lead them somewhere. It surprised me and I pulled my hand away, but still gave him an encouraging smile, "Come on. Follow me."

It was like coaxing some shy wild little animal. I had to leave little bread crumbs of encouraging words to lead him step by step off the front porch and around to the shade of a large oak that stood off the side of the porch.

It didn't take long for me to decide that Davey was one lousy playmate. In fact, he wouldn't play. And he wouldn't say anything. I figured he was stuck-up and I got mad. I tried playing Superman, Star Trek, cops--everything--but he mainly played with his dumb plane. So I tried playing planes with him, but he wouldn't share. He hung onto the toy and wouldn't let me even touch it.

Finally I had enough. "Why won't you talk to me? Why won't you play? What's wrong with you? Why won't you share?"

I wasn't near done, but Davey jumped to his feet, clutching his plane to his chest, and ran for the front porch. I looked up to see his mom staring down at me from the porch railing. Before I could panic because I had yelled at her son, I realized she didn't look angry at all; instead, she looked sad. Davey came running up behind her and threw his arms around her waist, pressing his face into her back. She backed up, moving the boy around to her side and sat on the porch swing. Davey climbed onto the swing and put his head in her lap, face to her stomach.

Something was not right. Davey was behaving like a little kid; not like a six year-old. I was confused and actually a little frightened. This was strange. I didn't like strange.

But I was also a curious kid, so I climbed the porch steps and walked over in front of them and leaned back on the railing.

Maggie looked sad. "Mickey," she said. "I need to explain about Davey. You see, he's very special." Her brow knitted. "Do you know what pregnant means?"

"Uh, huh. Our next-door neighbor Mrs. Rodriquez is pregnant. She's got a baby inside. She let me feel it kick."

Maggie smiled. "Was that fun?"

I nodded.

"Davey kicked like that when he was a little baby inside me. But then something very sad happened, while I was pregnant with Davey. I got sick. It was a bad sickness, Mickey. It hurt Davey." She looked down at her son and stroked his hair, before continuing, "He has to work just a little harder to think and understand things than we do. And sometimes, kids tease him. That's why he's so shy." She looked into my eyes, "He needs a friend, Mickey. Would you be his friend?"

That beautiful lady could have asked me to throw myself in front of a car and I would have gladly done it. But her words did touch my six year-old heart. Even at that age, I knew how much it hurt to be teased by other kids. As I looked at her sad smile and the boy curled in her lap, I felt a new emotion in my little gut; compassion.

I walked up and put my hand on his back and patted him. "Hey Davey," I said, bending over him. Will you be my friend?" He turned his head in her lap and looked at me with those amazing eyes. Still patting his back, I knelt down and smiled at him. "Hey, I don't have a best friend. We could be like best friends, Davey. You can spend the night at my house and I can spend the night at your house."

Davey smiled.

"You wanna come see my house, Davey? I have some neat toys."

Davey sat up and grinned at me. He actually grinned. I looked up at Maggie and she smiled down at me. "I think, Mickey, that I am very glad we moved in so close to you. You know, I'd like to be your friend too."

"Sure. And you'll like my mom. She's a good cook. You gotta come over for supper tonight."

She laughed, and her laugh was as pretty as you would expect from so lovely a woman. "Maybe you better check with your mom first, and your dad."

"My dad's dead. And my mom always likes company. We're Italian."

Maggie smiled and then her eyes saddened and she took my hand. "I'm so sorry about your father, Mickey."

I shrugged, "Oh he died in the war. I never really knew him. I was a baby."

She looked off and blinked a few times. Then she turned back to me and said, "Davey's dad moved away last year, and I don't think we will ever see him again. So Davey really doesn't have a dad right now either."

I looked at Davey, whose sad eyes mirrored his mom's and then looked back at her, "So can he come to my house?"

"Which one is yours again?"

I pointed it out.

She looked thoughtful. "Tell you what; the movers know what to do for a few minutes. How about if I come with you, too, and meet your mom?"

"OK!" I shouted, jumping up. When Davey just sat there, I held out my hand. He looked up at me, then took it and got up out of the swing.

My mom was a tall, strong woman; strong not just physically, but emotionally as well. If ever a woman was able to be both mother and father to a boy, she was. I thought she was beautiful, though she always insisted I got my good looks from my dad. What made her beautiful was her warm smile and ready love for people. And her eyes; she was a very smart lady and when she looked in your eyes, you knew it.

Davey and I followed Mom and Maggie around the house as Mom gave "the tour."

My room had windows onto the front porch; Mom's room was at the back of the house. Between our bedrooms were hall and a bathroom. The hall opened on the side into the living room. Mom had her own bathroom. The front door opened onto the living room in the front of the house and a dining room and kitchen in the back. Mom used the dining room for a sewing room/office and we ate in the kitchen. We had a little, detached garage in back.

Mom and Maggie must have hit it off right away because they told us to stay in my room playing while Mom went back with Maggie to help with unpacking. Davey and I settled on my floor. I showed him my GI Joes, and my games. I'd ask if he liked a toy and he would just nod. As we played with them, I did all the sound affects, machine guns, hand grenades, and engine noises.

Davey didn't say anything until I had the idea to play go-fish. Then he had to talk, to play the game. And even then, it took some coaxing.

After a few hands, Davey relaxed enough to say, "I gotta go."

"To the bathroom?" I asked.

He nodded.

I took him down the hall to my bathroom. When he stepped up to the toilet, I stepped up beside him, shoulder to shoulder and we looked at each other's peters when we hauled them out to pee. His was cut and mine wasn't. At the time, I just knew his was like most of the other boys' I'd seen. Davey stared at mine when I skinned it back so I sort of held it where he could see. And I showed him how to play swords with our piss streams.

There's just nothing like taking a piss together to bond two boys, even if one kid's just a little bit slow. That broke the ice for Davey and me, and I quickly found out that he could talk just fine. He just talked a little slow and had trouble with long words. No big deal.

We took turns playing hide and seek after that. He wasn't real good at it, but then it was my house and I knew all the hiding places. We still had fun.

Mom came back and fixed supper for all of us, Maggie included. At supper, Maggie asked, "Mickey, would you like to come back with us after supper and spend the night over at our house. with Davey?"

I looked at Davey and he giggled. I grinned, "Sure." Mom packed up clean underwear and jammies for me before we left.

Their house was like ours, except that it had only one bathroom. Davey's room was at the back. It had big windows that looked out onto the small backyard and detached garage. Maggie drew us a bath and Davey and I played with his bath toys while we bathed together. The only other kid I ever bathed with was a cousin once. Bathing with Davey sort of made our friendship official.

That night Maggie tucked Davey and me into his bed together. She bent over us and stroked first Davey's hair and then mine. I grinned up at her and she leaned over me.

"I'm so glad we met you, Mickey," she said quietly. "It's almost too good to be true. I was worried about Davey going of to school by himself next week. His specialists say he should be able to handle first grade just fine." She threw a smile at Davey and then she looked back down at me. "But today you saw how shy Davey is. I was afraid he wouldn't make any friends." She hesitated, and then said, "You'll look after Davey when school starts won't you?"

I looked over at Davey who stared back at me with those same blue eyes. I would have promised Maggie anyway, but now Davey was my friend. I nodded, "I'll always look after Davey. I promise"

Her eyes softened. She silently bent and kissed me on the forehead and then kissed Davey. At the door, she turned off the overhead light, which left only Davey's nite-light. He and I looked at each other. He giggled, then I giggled, then he giggled. When he closed his eyes to sleep, I put my hand on his shoulder. I liked Davey.


Davey and I had several days to ourselves before the start of school, and we made the most of it. We explored his new house and his yard, along with my yard and all the yards between. I had to stay on our block, but I showed the whole block to him; my entire kingdom.

The first day of school, Maggie and Mom took us to the school together. This was back before special ed was such a big thing. Maggie had already talked with the school in advance and it was all arranged; Davey and I would have the same first grade class.

Davey clung to Maggie as she tried to leave. When she finally succeeded in freeing herself and had quickly left with Mom, Davey latched on to me. He couldn't have stayed closer unless he had been sewn on. It was hard to get him far enough away to even take the seat next to mine.

And to tell the truth, I was glad he was there. Otherwise, I think I would have been a little scared too. Richardson Elementary was a big, old, rambling building with hundreds of kids. I was tall for my age, but there were some really big older kids there, and everybody was a stranger to me including the kids our age. Davey was the first friend my own age that I had. So I was glad he stuck to me.

When I went to the bathroom, Davey went to the bathroom. Where I played at recess, Davey played. When I met someone, Davey met them. It took a few days before he began to loosen up, and then we ran into our first bully.

His name was George and he was a big second-graders. We were on the playground when George started shoving Davey around. It took me a second to realize what was going on, but when I did, I stepped between them and wouldn't let George get to Davey. He gave up, gave me a little shove and left. For a kid who in play had ridden to the rescue of a thousand people in distress, I had done what was right, and good. George was a villain. Davey was an innocent. And darned if I didn't feel like a little hero.

I think Davey thought of me as a hero. He latched back onto me for several more days.

I think that if it weren't for Davey and the promise I made to Maggie, someone would have had to teach me how to stand up to bullies. Instead, I got a crash course on my own. Fortunately, bullies in the first couple of grades of elementary school aren't real good at it yet, nor real dedicated. I found that a little anger and a balled fist backed them off. That first year, I had to back off more than one.

I looked after Davey by day and Maggie looked after him at night, going back over what he was supposed to have learned during the day in school. All in all, we had a fun first grade and both passed to the second.

They tested me in the second grade and told my mom that I was special too, only smart. All I knew was that they put me in a different class and the teacher gave me extra work to do. That was OK. I actually liked the work. But Mom wouldn't let them jump me ahead any grades.

Davey handled our separation well. He did fine without me and even made a couple of his own friends. We still walked to school and back together every day and met at recesses and lunch.

All through grade school, Maggie spent night after night helping Davey with his school work and each year he passed. And each year, they gave me more and more extra work to do. We stayed in the same school, though I was in the "gifted and talented" classes, and we stayed best friends. We played at Mrs. Rodriquez' house every day after school until our moms came home. Friday nights I slept over at his place or he did at mine.

Our territory expanded beyond our block as we explored the neighborhood together. We both tried out for little league and warmed a bench together for a whole summer. We did Cub Scouts together. We even built a fort in his back yard from scrap lumber we gathered from alleys. Both our moms took pictures of us in the fort and told us what a fine job we did, but I heard them laughing really hard about it later.

Christmas of our third grade year, our moms gave both of us bicycles, along with strict limits as to where we could ride. They had to. Living in our neighborhood was like living on an island with busy roads all around to trap us in. But like all city kids, we learned back ways and how to use the traffic lights. Our world expanded to Brackenridge Park and Olmos Park and the Trinity Campus.

Every summer, my granddad and grandma came for a week. Granddad took Davey and I to the zoo and to state parks. He even took us to the Gulf, fishing. My other grandparents, my father's parents, lived in Chicago and I never saw them. Davey had a granddad living in Houston and they sometimes drove over to see him. I met him once; he seemed like a fragile old man.

So my granddad was like a granddad for both of us. He was a big man, with a soft belly and thick glasses. When he laughed, he shook all over and spilled us out of his lap. The times he took us out of the city were the very best. We loved the hills and trees of the Texas hill country and the river bottom state parks. He let us run all over the trails and along rivers and creeks. He took us swimming at Garner State Park and pulled Davey from deep water when he slipped off a slimy rock.

In fifth grade, I started waking up with erections...a lot. And once, when Davey was sleeping over, I woke up with him sleeping half on me and he had a morning stiffy too. I began to be interested in my cock and the sensations I could get from it.

That year, we joined Boy Scouts together, through a troop meeting at a local Methodist church. There were a lot of boys who were new to us and they quickly zeroed in on Davey as easy prey. "Dumb blond" jokes had begun to be popular and the boys began telling them to each other really loud in front of Davey.

Arnold, a big, chubby boy with a small mouth and no chin seemed to go out of his way to tease Davey. He was a lot bigger than me. But I didn't let kids tease Davey in grade school; I was not going to let the boys in scouts tease him. My first fight was with Arnold. I had already told Arnold to leave Davey alone or else. Arnold chose "or else."

It happened the night the scoutmaster told us about latrines, since we would need to know about them for camping. After the meeting, we moved out into the courtyard area.

Arnold loudly asked, "Hey Davey, have you figured out how to wipe your butt yet, or does Mickey have to help you?"

I didn't hesitate. I swung hard because I was mad and connected with his cheek bone. Arnold stumbled back in surprise and raised his hand to where I'd hit him. He started crying and sobbed, "Why did you do that? I was only kidding." I glowered as well as a kid that age can, and he walked away. He never teased Davey again.

But the other boys did. It took two more fights, neither of which I really won; well, one I lost pretty bad and had a black eye for it. But after that, the other boys knew that if they were going to pick on Davey, they would have a fight. Once we got that settled, Davey and I were able to made friends with them.

I liked scouting, but there was something else I liked about those guys. I was able to learn a lot more in scouts about the "facts of life" than I ever did on the school ground. What I learned, I always passed on to Davey because it was fun to talk about. I even passed on what I learned about masturbation, and about guys doing animals (oooh, gross!) and about guys doing other guys (maybe not so gross). I remember whispering to Davey that sometimes, "Boys do it with boys. But they're not supposed to." I watched his eyes to see his response. Unfortunately with Davey, his eyes did not always give away much.

That summer, when Granddad took Davey and me to the zoo, we were watching the elephants when things went crazy in the big, open baboon exhibit behind us. Several of the animals were crying out. It sounded like the end of the baboon world. We turned just in time to see a male baboon, cock rampant, approach and mount a female while he, she, and several others cried out at ear-splitting levels. Baboons don't fuck long, but it was spectacular; and it held Davey's and my deep interest.

Poor Granddad. When they were done, he sat us on a bench by the exhibit and spent a few awkward moments trying to explain "the birds and the bees." Just as he was finishing, we watched as one male baboon approach another male only a few feet from us. The first turned and presented his butt. The second, dominant male put his hand on the offered butt and them mounted the submissive male and fucked him. It was obvious the "receiver" was a male because his dick hung down, a long, white, naked worm between his legs. Granddad looked down nervously at us and Davey said, "They're both boys." Granddad cleared his throat and led us away. Davey and I looked at each other, I poked his ribs, and we giggled.

In the fall, we went on our first scout camping trip. Maggie stopped by the house to pick me up. When I came out to the car, Maggie had her window down and I heard her ask, "Davey, were you supposed to take a bedroll?"

I heard Davey answer, "I don't know."


"It's OK," I reassured her. "He can share mine with me. I've got a big sleeping bag."

"If you don't mind Mickey, I'd really appreciate it. We don't have one and I don't have time to run to the store to buy one."

It turned out that I would be really glad to share. I didn't know I should have taken blankets too. We camped out at a private ranch on the Guadalupe River. The campground was a large grassy area that sloped down to the river which was lined with tall river cypress trees. In the middle of the grassy area was an ancient spreading oak tree. Within minutes of our getting there, the oak tree was adorned with boys like a Christmas tree with ornaments. The scoutmaster had to coax the entire troop down out of the tree to set up camp.

On the hill above the campground were woods of oak, elm, and juniper. After setting up camp, we fanned out to collect firewood. One of my biggest thrills back then was to piss outdoors. When I stopped and whipped out my peter, Davey quickly came up beside me and giggled as we both pissed in the cool air and crossed our "piss swords."

The smoke of our campfires hung low over the tents as the sun set. We had hamburgers and corn roasted on the cob. Davey and I sat side by side on a log with a couple of other scouts and all agreed that food never tasted so good back home.

With the dark came smores (roasted marshmallows with chocolate bar between two graham crackers) and ghost stories. For eleven year-old city boys, ghost stories get really scary when real, live coyotes howl close by. Davey almost climbed up the back of my shirt.

When we stepped away from the fires toward our tents, the cold really hit us. We could see our breath in the flashlights. In the tent, Davey and I took our jackets and shoes off, but left on the rest of our clothes when we climbed into the sleeping bag together, shivering. It was cold in the sleeping bag and when all the lights were out, Davey and I huddled close together for warmth. A coyote howled and suddenly Davey's arms were around me and his face was pressed to my neck. I put my arms around his back and patted him reassuringly. We fell asleep that way. When I woke after dawn, our backs were pressed together and our feet were all entwined.

Boys were stirring. I carefully climbed out of the sleeping bag, put on my shoes and jacket, and walked away from the tent to piss. My teeth chattered in the morning cold. Another boy, Jeremy, was already peeing when I walked up. Steam rose off his stream of piss and off the puddle where it hit the ground. Cool! I scrambled back to the tent and woke Davey so he could come pee with me and see steam rise off our piss. If Davey had been any other boy, I wouldn't have done it; but if Davey had been any other boy, it wouldn't have been fun.

The summer after sixth grade, we turned twelve and our moms began to leave us alone at home during the day when they were working. We had their phone numbers, safe neighbor houses, and a list of instructions a mile long. I guess we became latch key kids.

We didn't just lie around though. To earn money, I began mowing lawns of some of the smaller homes over in Monte Vista proper. Davey became my business partner. Maggie was worried about Davey doing yard work, but agreed to it when I said I would do the mowing and Davey would only use the weed whacker. It didn't take long to teach him and he did careful work. Davey earned his share of the money.

When we mowed, at least in the summer, we worked only in our shorts. As Davey swung back and forth with the whacker, I began to notice muscles in his back, shoulders, and chest. He looked good. I started flexing my muscles when I mowed, hoping to develop my own.

One weekend, Maggie took us to a local public pool. When we got there, she found a place in the grass near the deck. "Give me your shirts, boys. And your shorts and shoes."

"This is my swim suit," I protested. "I don't have on shorts."

"Sorry," she laughed. "Davey has a new suit. Don't you Davey."

He smiled and nodded. We took off our shirts, and then Davey took off his shorts to reveal a little red speedo. He filled both front and back nicely. Now I had seen Davey naked plenty of times, but as I looked at his slim body, rounded butt, and soft skin and that suit (I wanted a suit like that), it was the first time my cock responded to the sight of another boy.

"OK, boys. Go swim. And stay out of the deep end," Maggie instructed as she adjusted her large sun hat and began to lotion her legs.

Davey took my hand and I didn't even look to see if anyone noticed two boys holding hands. I had long ago gotten use to that. What I was concerned about was whether my boner showed.

That was also the summer I decided I wanted to be a runner. Maybe because of the excitement over next year's Olympics, there was a lot of televised track on TV. I mistakenly thought that even a kid like me who had little coordination could run and decided I might possibly want to try out for the team in middle school. To do that, I decided that I needed to start running.

None of our other friends wanted to run and none lived close by anyway, so I gave Davey no choice. He would be my running mate.

For our first run, I was going to jog us to Olmos park, around the park a couple of times and then back. Well, we had slowed to a walk by the time we reached the park. We walked/jogged (definitely not in equal ratio) around the park once and staggered back home. Even that had been pushing too hard for Davey. Back at the house, he kept rubbing his legs and squirming. I could tell they had cramped on him. So I got him down on the floor and gave him a good rub down.

He lay on his stomach and I started with his legs, but worked up his back as well. Davey patted his butt and said, "It hurts here too." So I began to work his fleshy butt through his shorts. It gave me an erection; a roaring hard-on. I wanted to touch his butt with it, just sort of press my cock against it, but quickly banished that thought. But for the first time, I had the conscious thought that I might be gay.

Davey took to back rubs. I began using them to bribe Davey into running with me, "Run and you get a rub down." Of course, I made him give me rub downs too. Even after we began seventh grade, we ran after school and got pretty good; not at running, but at rub downs. The first time Davey got hard while sitting astride my butt, it surprised me, and also thrilled me. That he could be excited by the rub downs, too, seemed way too good to be true. I always pretended not to notice, even when I would flip him over after rubbing his back to find his cock was hard and pushing out the waistband of his shorts.

We quit running and rub downs before Christmas. I had my first wet dream in January and told only Davey about it, first thing the next morning. I began masturbating at least once a day, and told Davey about that too.

But Davey said nothing about masturbating or wet dreams, yet I figured him for both. If he didn't want to tell me about it, fine. Still, I began to fantasize about masturbating with Davey. I just pictured being able to sit and watch each other "do it." And at times, I felt guilty because I didn't want to take advantage of Davey, and somehow doing anything like that with him seemed like a betrayal of what I felt for him.

Something was happening in me, something about how I felt for Davey. I liked being around him more than ever. I found myself being happy just to watch his eyes (his lashes had gotten quite long), or his slender stomach as he breathed, or his long, blond hair as he brushed it back over his ears. Deep down inside me, the beginnings of something new were stirring and I was only vaguely becoming aware of those feelings. Being with Davey began to spawn secret dreams in my juvenile imagination and whispered seductively to my young body.

Almost in self defense, I went out for track that spring and found that coaches could actually teach you to run. That was a surprise; I thought you either knew how to run or you didn't. I didn't, but I learned. I found out I could do well at longer runs. Because of workouts after school and meets on Saturdays, I saw a lot less of Davey. Our moms usually got us together on Saturday nights for supper and Davey and I mowed together on Sundays.

In fact, it was after mowing a lawn one Sunday that Davey and I got mugged. Four teens from outside our neighborhood stopped us in an alley on the way back to my house. Three Hispanics and one Anglo; they looked huge to us, and dangerous. I mean, guys that age carried knives! They surrounded us and the tallest said, "Hey guys. How about loanin us some money to buy some sodas? We're really thirsty." One stepped up right behind Davey and gave him a shove.

"Leave him alone, you creep," I shouted.

The tall one stepped up to my face. "You a smart mouth, kid?"

"Leave me alone, too" I muttered and tried to go around him with the mower. He punched me hard in the stomach and I dropped to my knees. I struggled back up. It seemed important not to wind up on the ground.

"Come on kid, give us some bucks."

"Fuck off," I said, reaching again for the mower.

His fist to my gut doubled me over. While I tried to catch my breath, his hands invaded my pockets and pulled out the money I carried. I heard Davey cry out, stood back up, and turned to see the fat kid with his hands in Davey's pockets. I could tell he was feeling Davey up.

"Leave him alone you fat queer," I yelled.

That was not bright. Oh, the kid did leave Davey alone, but he came at me. Davey cried out "No! Don't hurt him!" really loud. All four of them flinched and looked around to see if any heads appeared at windows or over fences. I had no idea Davey could yell that loud.

"Leave `em," the tall one said. "I got the money."

The fat one stepped up and hit me low. I think he was aiming for my balls, but hit just above my cock. It still dropped me back to the ground.

They left and Davey was on me in a flash. He took my head in his arms and started crying almost hysterically. He almost took my head off. My stomach ached badly and I really just wanted to lie down, but I forced myself to my feet and straightened painfully. Davey felt at my stomach tenderly with his hands while he cried. I put my arm over his shoulder, "It's OK, Davey. It's OK. I'm not hurt. Are you hurt?"

"No," he shook his head and wiped his eyes.

"And they didn't mess up the mower or weed whacker, right?"

He shuddered under my arm and buried his forehead in my neck. "Don't let anyone hurt you, Mickey."

"I'm OK, Davey. Really. OK?" I patted his back and let him cry against me. "We'll just stay out of the alleys from now on and stick to the streets."

When mom found out, she sat me down at the kitchen table. (All of our important talks took place at the kitchen table.) "I have a serious question for you, Mickey. OK?"

"Sure, Mom."

"I wasn't supposed to tell anybody yet, so you can't say a word to anyone about this, but week after next, I'm going to be the new Office Manager at work."

"Oh, wow! Congratulations, Mom."

"Thanks, honey," she patted my cheek. "It means I'll be getting home a little later at night. You might need to fix supper sometimes."

"That's OK. Davey can help me."

"Well that's what I was going to ask you about, Mickey. I'm going to be getting a good raise; a really good raise." She watched my eyes. "We could afford to move to a nicer house...and a safer neighborhood."

I looked at her in shock. "No, Mom. We can't do that! This house is plenty nice. And those creeps that took our money aren't from our neighborhood anyway."

She took my hand. "Wouldn't you like to live some place a little safer? Wouldn't you like to have a nicer room? A bigger house?"

"No, Mama. My room's fine. Our house if fine. And what about Davey? He needs me."

"Davey will be fine. He's got his mom and Davey can look after himself."

"Mama, no. I don't want to move. Please."

Mom smiled and leaned closer. She put her hand on my arm and said, "I don't want to move either. I like our house just fine. And I like Maggie and Davey too, you know. Maggie is my best friend and Davey is like another son. I just wanted to know how you felt."

"Great! We're stayin!" I jumped up and kissed her, then whooped out of the kitchen.


That first day of summer after the seventh grade, Davey showed up at my house when Maggie left for work.

"Hi Mickey."

"Hi Davey," I stood in my underwear, wiping the sleep from my eyes and held the door open for him to come in. I guess I had assumed all along that Davey and I would be together for the summer.

I put my arm over his shoulder as we headed to the kitchen, "Hey, I didn't tell you congratulations for passing seventh grade. Congratulations! Going to the eighth grade together, you and me. Davey turned toward me and smiled. His face was only a couple of inches from mine, and those eyes were so blue.

Moving my arm off his shoulder, I asked, "So what do you wanna do this summer?"

He sat down at the kitchen table. "I don't know, Mickey."

"You wanna check out the summer youth program?" I asked as I poured myself a glass of milk.


"I can teach you how to run this summer. Like they taught me on the track team."


"I can teach you how to play poker."


I took a sip of milk, then grinned. "I could say I'd teach you anything and you'd still say OK, wouldn't you?" But then realized the implications of what I said. Flustered, I sputtered, "like I could say I'd teach you to jump off buildings and you'd say OK."

He laughed. Except for his breaking voice, his laugh sounded a lot like his mom's. "You wouldn't teach me that."

"I don't know, Davey," I warned as I took a piece of toast off Mom's discarded plate. "You just don't know what I'd teach you." Then I blushed as I thought about what I'd like to teach him and decided I should go put on some shorts.

We only hung around the youth program a couple of days. Neither of us was much good at basketball or ping pong and we could play checkers at home. So we did. And in the mornings I taught Davey how to run. He didn't run badly, though we had to work for him to build up endurance. Of course, with the runs, came back rubs. And with backrubs, erections began to show up; erections that we both ignored.

We ignored them until just after the fourth of July. We had run that morning and drank a pop in the kitchen while we cooled down. Afterward, I went to the living room and lay down on my stomach on the floor to watch TV. Davey came in and stood over me a few minutes. Then he sat astride my butt and began giving my back a rub down.

As he worked, his crotch moved atop my butt and I could feel him get hard, and that made me hard. I put my head down and moaned appreciatively as Davey worked his hands slowly down my back. When he finished at my waist, he sat there, my butt in the V of his legs. I could feel his cock pressing my crack through our shorts. He had never just sat there like that before, and then he did something really new. He laid down on me, and then his hard cock really pressed against my ass. His bare belly and chest came to rest on my back and his legs stretched out on either side of mine. I gasped unintentionally. Davey's long, blond hair tickled the back of my neck just before his cheek came to rest there.

I thought I should stop him; get out from under him. But I was overwhelmed by the feel of his body on mine and his hard cock pressed on my butt. It was exciting and forbidden and exciting because it was forbidden. There was a little sweat between my back and his chest, and it seemed to heighten the feel of his skin on mine. His breath over my shoulder smelled of boy and pop.

I let him stay. In fact, I said, "Thanks for the back rub, Davey."

He nuzzled the back of my neck and said, "Uh, huh."

After that, we made sure to run every day. After every run I would lie on my stomach in front of the TV and Davey would give me a rub down; followed by a lay down. I always thanked him and he always said, "Uh, huh." Though once he added, "You smell good when you run, Mickey." I knew what he meant. I liked his smell after a run too.

I never let him do the lay down thing when either of our moms was around, and he understood that wasn't allowed. He also knew when it was allowed. It became something we did every day. Neither of us said a word about what he was doing other than, "Thank you" and "Uh huh." He just did it.

And then, after, I don't know, a couple of weeks of just lying on me, he began to rub against me when he lay down. Just small rubs at first. Little movements like he was changing position or something. And then after he did that a couple of days, he began rubbing more obviously. The first time he ran his arms up under my shoulders, held on, and actually began to hump, I felt guilty and damned hot. There was no way I was going to tell him to stop.

Even though Davey was doing all the `doing,' I felt like it was me taking advantage of him. I mean, I always tried to treat Davey like any other kid, but he wasn't like other kids. I wasn't sure he was operating on anything more than instinct. And I wrestled with whether I should stop the whole thing.

It reminded me...well, I remembered once when I was alone in an alley, and the neighbor's dog started humping my leg. I let him do it. It was naughty and exciting. I wanted to see what would happen and got hard as the dog held my leg tightly between his forelegs and humped away.

It struck me that it was a little like that with Davey. I figured Davey didn't know that what he was doing might be wrong, and I didn't want to stop him. I let him hump me and got hard when he did. He began to do hump me through a whole TV show or two every day and I'd rub my hard cock onto the carpeted floor, all still in our shorts, of course.

I remember the first time he came. It must have been into August already. We had come in from mowing to cool off and like always, I dropped to the floor. I rolled onto my stomach and began to get hard, hoping Davey would lie on me. I wiggled my butt in unspoken invitation and was glad when he did lay down on me, his bare chest on my bare back and his legs on either side of mine. He was quickly hard and began that long, slow, grinding hump I loved. We had been going at it through a whole Star Trek rerun when he suddenly humped jerkily against me a few times and pressed harder onto my butt. I felt his cock jerking, throbbing against me. He whimpered. There was no mistaking what was happening.

When he was done, Davey just relaxed on me and dozed. But I was roaring hard with that incredibly aching need to cum that adolescents get. I ground myself against the carpeted floor until I came as well. Then I laid my head down to nap, too. As I dozed off, I felt dampness from Davey soak a spot into the back of my own shorts.

The next day, for once Davey was on his stomach in front of the TV. All this time I had been wondering what it felt like for him to rub me, but I'd been afraid to try. I mean, as long as it was just him rubbing me, it was sort of like I was tolerating some harmless behavior. But if I rubbed on him, then it was me doing it and it would be fully premeditated and totally not innocent.

We were in just shorts again and Davey's skin looked so smooth and soft. His butt was so inviting. I was hard almost instantly. I tried not to breathe too hard, but my breath came out ragged and my pulse raced. I knelt astride his butt and slowly sat down. Davey wiggled under me and giggled. I leaned forward and did just as he had done, running my arms up under his shoulders to hold on. I could barely breathe as I lowered my belly and chest onto his naked back. I pressed his smooth legs between mine, and rubbed my cock against his fleshy butt. I pressed my belly and chest against his warm back, and pressed my nose to the back of his head. I let my lips touch his hair and breathed deeply of its rich sweat-laced smell. I had barely begun to move when I erupted into my pants.

I stayed pressed to his butt until I throbbed out my full load. A little cry escaped my mouth. And then I collapsed onto him until I could calm down. When I did, I stood up and went to clean myself in the bathroom. As I cleaned cum out of my shorts, a deep sense of regret settled on me; regret for what I had done to Davey/

That regret lasted one day. When Davey lay down on his stomach after our run the very next day, I was on him almost instantly. As I began to move, Davey surprised me by turning over under me. Suddenly our hard cocks pressed together through our shorts and Davey's grinning face looked up at mine. Every nerve in my body was firing. There was no way to stop now. I lowered my head until the side of my cheek was against his, and wrapped my arms under him. When I began to move my groin against his, Davey wrapped his arms over my shoulders and ground his crotch back up into mine. Our only sounds were occasional grunts and moans with voices that had only just begun to change.

We rubbed our crotches together and found a rhythm. Then our rhythm quickened. Davey whimpered when he came and I ground on, climaxing soon after. I rested on him and kept my head down. I was afraid to look him in the face. There was no pretending now.

I lay there, feeling awful and wondered if I was making Davey gay. I lay there until he was breathing deeply, and then I got up. Both our shorts were wet through. Yet when he woke, I acted as though nothing had happened.

Over the weekend, we mowed our yards as usual but with our moms around, it was a relief not to be tempted. I held myself back until the next Wednesday. But Wednesday I wanted to do it and lay down on my stomach in the living room after running. When Davey lay down on my butt, I rolled over under him and looked up into his delighted face. Instead of lowering his head beside mine, he held my gaze as we began to thrust against each other.

He was so beautiful. I had never kissed anybody. I wanted to kiss Davey. I wondered what it would be like. But we only watched each other, no smiles this time. We just watched our faces flush and our nostrils flare as our breathing quickened and then we winced when the feelings were too good. Afterward, Davey left to clean up, and then me. We didn't say a word.

For the next two days and through the weekend, I alternated between bouts of guilt and desire, along with marathon jerk-off sessions when Davey wasn't around. It dawned on me that Davey and I shouldn't continue doing our rubbing thing when I thought about our moms finding so many cum stains in our shorts. But then my perverse imagination thought of how to handle that.

All this time, we hadn't said a word to each other about what we were doing. It was sort of like denial. I mean to even say, "Oh that feels good," would acknowledge that I knew exactly what we were up to. But now we needed to take care of the cum-in-the-shorts thing, and I was prepared with what to say Monday when my resolve to quit rubbing with Davey finally evaporated. He had lain down on the floor on his stomach after our run and I was on him right away. Hell, I was hard even before we made it back to the house. When Davey turned over under me to face me, I whispered, "Do you want to try it naked?"

His eyes widened. "Yes."

I stood up and pulled off my shorts. Davey was transfixed, his eyes locked on my cock. I stepped over him, astride his legs and stroked myself. "Well?" I asked. "Aren't you going to take off yours?"

Without removing his eyes from me, he slid his shorts down and off. I looked down at his newly thirteen year-old boy/teen body. His balls and cock, like mine, had taken a head start toward manhood. Though his cock wasn't nearly as long as mine, it was thick with a nice crown. Davey had only a few pubic hairs, his scrotum was smooth; his testicles two large eggs. He stroked looking up at me, and I stroked looking down at him.

His privates were flush and moist looking. I watched him, fascinated by the way his balls pulled up each time his hand slid up his cock, the way his pelvis roses when his hand descended, and the way the thickness of his cock filled his hand.

I dropped to my knees, one on each side of his legs and sat back on my haunches so that my butt settled between his thighs. Letting go of my cock, I reached tentatively to his balls and cupped them. Davey stopped stroking and lifted his head to watch as I fondled him. I pulled his hand away from his cock and drew my forefinger up the underside of his shaft. He moaned quietly and I thrilled to the softness and heat of his skin and the hardness beneath. I took his cock into my hand and it filled it as though it was something meant for me to hold. I wanted to touch his cock with mine.

Leaning forward, I put my hands on the floor on each side of Davey's shoulders. He looked up and me and I watch his eyes as I lowered myself until our cocks pressed together and my balls pressed on his. We both caught our breath and I held myself there, wanting to feel it, savor it. Davey's eyes turned all glassy and the skin of his neck and cheeks flushed. My own face felt hot and deep in the base of my cock, I felt the need to move. I rubbed my cock against the hardness of his belly and Davey moaned. I lowered my belly and chest to his and ran my arms under his back. His hands gripped my shoulders, he closed his eyes, and then Davey arched his head back. I watched his throat and the line of his jaw as I moved myself against him. I wanted to kiss his throat, to press my lips against it.

Davey relaxed his neck and his hands slid down my back to grab my bare ass. His eyes slowly opened and he looked at me as we began to rub ourselves together faster. Glassy-eyed no longer, our eyes grew wide with pure sexual excitement. We rocked together and I watched those blue eyes until they became too much, too raw, too honest. I lowered my cheek to his and held his body with mine.

It did not take long. I came in gushes between our bellies. But Davey had not cum. I held him and rolled onto my back. His body lay between my legs and I grabbed his butt as he continued to move against me. Even though I had cum, he felt good between my legs, very good. And then Davey came.

His breathing calmed and he lifted his head; his long hair hung down the sides of his face. Davey gave me a dazed grin, and then a surprising kiss on the cheek. He knelt up and looked at the mess on my stomach. Cocking his head to one side, he drew a finger across my belly and put it into his mouth. He made a face and then smiled around his finger. I sat up on my elbows and reached out to draw a finger across his stomach and tasted. It wasn't creamy like I thought it would be. But it wasn't bad.

We smiled at each other. Davey put the palm of his hand back on my belly and rubbed it around in the mess. Then my cock caught his interest. He lifted it up with his cum-covered fingers and rolled it around. He lifted my scrotum and examined my balls. He giggled. Then he got up and left for the kitchen. He returned, still heavy cock swinging, with paper towels and knelt to wipe us both up.

Wordlessly, he smiled down at me as he worked. I put my hand out and felt the smooth skin of the side of his leg and butt. When he stood and walked to the kitchen to throw away the mess, I watched his ass and the muscles of his back and legs. Somehow, they were now something I owned too. When he came back, he lay down beside me and nuzzled my neck. We dozed naked together.

I heard it said once that the first time you hold the naked body of another boy in your arms, it is one of the most incredible experiences you can have in life. I would say even more so if that other boy is one you deeply love as only a teenage heart can; and even more so it that other boy is as beautiful as Davey; and most of all if that other boy is Davey. I know.

The next day, when I laid down on my stomach to "watch TV," I heard Davey giggling behind me. His pants dropped on the floor beside me. He knelt next to me and jerked my pants down below my butt. I jumped when Davey cried out like a baboon. He continued the baboon noises and laid down on me, his cock laying in my crack. And he continued the baboon noises as he began to hump. I laughed and spun under him, pulling my pants down farther and kicking them off. Davey's elbows came to rest on either side of my head and his grinning face was close to mine; his hair hung like curtains of gold around our faces. We smelled of sweat from our afternoon run.

He looked at me and his eyes sparkled as he made an "O" with his mouth and started again with the baboon noises.

I put a hand on either side of his face and pulled his head down. I covered his mouth with mine, stifling the baboon cries. Our mouths closed and I held our lips pressed together. At first, Davey didn't kiss back but he did start to grind against me. I let our mouths part, and then pressed my lips to his again. This time, he kissed back, almost by reflex and our kiss held.

It was more than I ever imagined kissing to be. His lips were so soft, the contact so electric. I moved my head to work the kiss as I had seen couples do on TV.

I wanted more. I'd heard of French kissing and I had dreamed of trying it. I opened my mouth and lightly pressed my tongue to his lips. He giggled. I tried again. He giggled again.

"Open your mouth a little," I whispered. He did, and I thrust in my tongue. His mouth was warm and yielded to my explorations. I ran my fingers into his hair and probed more deeply. We discovered that a mouth is sexual, very sexual.

Our mouths became my whole world and that day Davey and I learned to kiss. We kissed even after we both came. We kissed until our breathing and our hearts calmed and Davey laid his head down on my neck.

And I was in love. In some happy unfocused way, I knew that I was in love with Davey.

In just a few days, we had another half dozen sessions like that, each hotter than the one before. We became lovers; even thirteen year olds are capable of love and passion. At least I was. At times, my heart felt close to bursting with my love of Davey, and yet at other times, I could barely think because of guilt, knowing that I was making Davey gay.

Reality became for me, focused down to Davey in my arms, his breath on my cheek, his smell in the air I breathed, his hair my sunrise and sunset. It was the only time I truly had peace. It was the only time I did not have to think. Because when I thought, it tore my heart in two.

School started up like some merciful morning; we were apart during the day and I could clear my head of the dream and think. We didn't try things after school. Not enough time; too much to do.

Then the second weekend came and Maggie had a date. She asked if Davey could sleep over Saturday night. Those previous two weeks, I had been thinking hard. I wrestled with my guilt and had decided to stop taking advantage of Davey. But now here he was going to be plopped right into bed with me.

When Davey showed up that night on my front porch, holding his bedroll, my storm of emotions reached a crescendo. Here was a way out. Davey could sleep on the floor in his bedroll. Why did he bring it? Was he feeling guilty too? Damn, I didn't want a way out. I wanted Davey in my bed!

Maggie said as she pushed him forward, "I figured the boys are getting old enough, that Mickey's bed might be a little small to share. So we brought the bedroll I bought Davey for scouts."

That night, we spread out the bedroll beside my bed. When Mom turned out the light and left us alone, I reminded myself that Davey was my best friend, that I loved him, that I took care of him, and I steeled my self for the task, and whispered, "Davey?"

"Uh huh?"

"I've been thinking," I leaned over the side of the bed to look at him in the night light. "What we've been know, the rubbing thing." He looked at me with those unfathomable eyes. "Well, umm," I looked away embarrassed, "guys aren't really supposed to do that with other guys. It's called homo-sexuality, or being gay. And it's not cool. We need to not do that, Davey."

Oh how I wanted to do just that. But I also wanted desperately to take care of Davey and do the right thing. I didn't want to make him gay like me. Not Davey.

My heart pounded in my chest. I wanted him to say something, anything. What I really wanted him to say was something like, "Please can't we do it anyway?" Instead, he looked at me for the longest time and then said, "OK, Mickey." And then he rolled over and faced away from me. I wanted badly to reach out and touch that shoulder. To say I was sorry. To say I loved him.


The next few months were really tough and I did waver. But Davey, for his part, never even tried a rub down. I wanted to. Oh, how I wanted to. But somehow I held out until the end of the semester.

Christmas Eve we went over to Maggie and Davey's house. Davey was all excited. I wondered if he found out that he was going to get something special for Christmas. Mom and I brought them gifts. Mom gave Maggie some perfume because she said ladies need that sort of thing. I gave Davey a Star Wars action set. Maggie gave Mom a couple of scarves. And then Davey left the room. He came back in carrying a guitar and put it in my lap. My mouth dropped. It was a very good acoustic guitar.

I looked up at Davey trying to understand. He grinned. "For you, Mickey. Merry Chris-a-mas."

I was speechless. I had wanted a guitar forever and saved up more than enough lawn mowing money, but thought I would need to use the cash for a new mower. The old one wasn't doing so well.

Davey grinned at me, "Are you happy, Mickey?"

"Yes, Davey," I gasped, "I'm very happy." I looked over at Maggie, "But how? Why?"

Maggie's grin was as wide as Davey's. She said, "Davey spent some of his own money from mowing lawns and I pitched in some."

I put down the guitar and rose to give Davey a hug. Then I hugged Maggie. I was blown away. I had never received such a gift. As we left, I hugged them both again, hard. I carried the guitar home carefully in both hands.

In the house, I put the guitar down on the couch and just stood staring at it. It was a much better guitar than I would have bought myself.

"Do you like your new guitar, Mickey?" Mom asked, stepping up beside me.

"What do you think? I can't believe they did that, Mom. This is a really expensive guitar."

She put her hand on my shoulder, "They love you, Mickey. Davey knew this was something you wanted and Maggie wanted it to be a good guitar."

I hung my head, "Mom, I feel bad because I didn't get Davey anything."

"You did. You gave him the Star Wars toys."

"Mom." I pulled away. "It's not the same."

"Oh, I don't know," She smiled and took my hand. "I think there may have been just as much love behind your gift as there was behind his."

I looked at her doubtfully and mom studied me for a moment, and then she said, "Come on into the kitchen with me."

Uh, oh. The kitchen was for serious talks. I had been afraid for a long time that Mom could somehow see through me and figure out how I really felt about Davey. I wasn't sure I wanted to go into the kitchen.

Once I sat at the table, Mom poured me a cup of milk and sat beside me. Mom never asked if I wanted something to eat or drink; she just put stuff in front of me, all the time. After she sat down, she patted my arm. "You are a second son for Maggie. I think she loves you almost as much as she loves Davey. She loves you for who you are, Mickey, but she also loves you because you love her son."

Mom leaned back and continued, "I know she feels because I love Davey almost as much as I love you. He's a second son to me, too. I love him for the sweet boy he is, but I also love him for what he means to my son." Mom leaned forward and put her hand on my cheek. Her eyes filled and she said, "I have wanted to tell you for a long time, Mickey, how very proud I am of you. You're becoming a remarkable young man." She patted my cheek, took a deep breath, and said, "You have character, Mickey. Real character. And I credit Davey for how you are turning out."

I guess I looked a little puzzled. She continued, "Your friendship with Davey has taught you things, Mickey. Things that I could never have taught you; things I'm not even sure your dad could have taught you. Because of Davey, you have learned what it means to be a good friend, even when it is sometimes hard. Davey has taught you to look at the real worth of a person and you are becoming wise about people. And I think because of Davey you have learned a little courage too, huh?" She smiled and patted my cheek again, "Maggie and I know how you chase away bullies." She cocked her head and studied me. "You were always a good boy, Mickey, but Davey has been..." she searched for words, "well like a setting for a precious stone, and you are the stone. He shows you off, Mickey, and brings out the best in you. I am more grateful for him than you know."

Mom sighed. "If you ever find anything that Davey wants as much as you wanted that guitar, you tell me. In the meantime," she said. "If you want to show Maggie and Davey how much you appreciate the guitar, learn to play it well."

Mom stood up and kissed the top of my head. "Drink your milk." And she left the kitchen. When I heard the door to her room close, I put the glass of milk in the fridge and headed for bed. I thought about what she said. My mom thought I was a man of character. If only she knew what I had been doing to Davey that summer. But it wasn't too late to be a man of character. I could still be someone Mom respected.

And Maggie loved me because I love Davey. If she knew what I had taught her son this summer, what would she think? But I could make it right. I could live up to her trust.

More than ever I was determined to never again take selfish advantage of Davey. In my heart that night, I determined to treat him like some sacred entrustment. I would honor the love and trust Maggie and Davey had given me. And I would earn the pride Mom had for me.

In my room, I undressed and, on a whim, tossed off my underwear too. I would sleep naked. Turning off the light, I climbed into bed and lay on my stomach. The soft sheets felt good on my cock and it lengthened. I ground my hips into the bed, and thought how much better Davey's belly felt. I grabbed my pillow and stuffed it down under my crotch. I humped it, imagining it to be Davey's butt. Just one last time, I told myself, I would think of making love to Davey. One last dream of Davey.

As always, emails are appreciated at

Special thanks to my very close and dear friend Michael down in Australia who has patiently edited my drafts and encouraged me. Special thanks to my young friend in Arkansas, Kevin, who had been my cheering section. And special thanks to Pecman, who not only encouraged, but was generous in suggestions and helped also with editing of this segment. Any failings were mine, in spite of all the help.