Copyright 2008. All Rights Reserved.


Chapter 28 – Fields of Ganymedes (1)

The gymnasium in ancient Greece functioned as a training facility for competitors in public games. It was also a place for socializing and engaging in intellectual pursuits. The name comes from the Greek term gymnos meaning naked. Athletes competed in the nude, a practice said to encourage aesthetic appreciation of the male or female body and a tribute to the Gods. Some early tyrants feared gymnasia facilitated politically subversive erotic attachments between competitors. - Wikipedia

While the origins of physical exercise regimes cannot be pinpointed, the practice of exercising in the nude had its beginnings in the seventh century BC. It is believed that the custom began in Sparta, and while various theories have been advanced, it is commonly thought that the main reason for the convention was the eroticisation of the male body. The same purpose is frequently attributed to the tradition of oiling the body, a custom so costly that it required significant public and private subsidies (the practice was the largest expense in gymnasia). - Wikipedia

Demos hurried to catch up with his fifteen-year-old brother. They were drawing close to Ganymede – that’s what people were calling the place – and he was distracted by all the other boys and men headed in the same direction.

Demos was distracted because he was a curious boy, but also because he was feeling increasingly out of place. For one thing, he was barely twelve years old, and he didn’t see many other boys who looked as young as he was. For another, he was traveling with only his brother and their tutor, whereas the other groups on the road were larger; some much larger. Many were on horseback, though others, like Demos and his brother, were on foot. Many had servants with them.

All those other boys undoubtedly belonged to gymnasia. He and his brother, Philip, had only their tutor. Those other boys were probably all city boys; wealthy, boisterous, and confident. Though Demos’ father was a wealthy landowner, their life was isolated. His father had taken him into Varashed only a few times. This trip was Demos’ first time to see Kaleh, and he had almost not been allowed to come.

Neither had Philip. It was too close to the end of the harvest. But the harvest had gone well, and Demos begged to be allowed to go, once his father had agreed to let Philip. Now Demos wished he’d been allowed to bring Neeco. Neeco was one of his father’s servants. He was also Demos’ age; they were playmates.

Demos eyed all the other boys on the road with them, and scooted closer to his brother, laying a hand on Philip’s back to maintain contact as they walked.

Philip looked back at his younger brother with a frown. Demos had thick, close-cropped hair which rimmed the edge of his Phrygian cap like a band of copper-colored fur. The younger boy’s deep blue eyes darted this way and that, nervously. “I knew you were too young to bring this time,” Philip said.

Demos looked at him, blushed, and dropped his hand from Philip’s back.

Though Philip looked like an older, taller, stronger version of his little brother – down to the dark, Phrygian cap – the two brothers were far apart in temperament. At home, Demos spent his days with Neeco, while Philip spent his with their father and the family servants and overseers. Philip was fifteen, and he definitely didn’t want his little brother clinging to him at the games.

They came out into a broad, open area – an open meadow at least a mile long and wide. At the far end was a tall, pine-covered hill. The day was clear and rapidly warming. The sun was high in a sky that was deeply blue with a few white puffs of clouds. The pines on the far hill were dark green. The straw on the field before them had been trampled flat. To the left, Demos saw glimpses of the river through breaks in the trees and brush along its banks; the water was a clear, emerald green.

Filling the far half of the large meadow were wooden structures, tents, pens of cattle, tethered horses, and people, many people. Smoke rose from several fires. To the far right, several men on horseback were racing at an angle away from them. A group of boys on Demos’ left broke into a run ahead.

Two soldiers stood to one side, giving directions. “Boys for the games report to the far end,” Demos heard one of them say, “up under the hill. Ganymede is beyond that.”

Philip was impatient. They had been standing in line for half an hour. Demos didn’t mind, though. Staying close to his brother, his eyes traveled over the other boys, their fathers, uncles, erastoi, and gymnasium masters, as well as over the booths of the merchants, the many tethered horses – his own father raised fine horses – several wooden structures which were set farther back against the trees, many, many tents, and… soldiers. There were dozens… hundreds of them. They weren’t simply more athletes carrying helmets, swords, and shields like those which the boy athletes had been told to bring for their dance. These were real soldiers with spears, matching shields, and matching exomis-style tunics. A few wore breastplates. “The king must already be here,” Demos told his brother.

“Not just the king,” said another boy, who stood near by in line. He was not much older than Demos. “The Oracle herself is here, and all her eunuchs, including the Abij-hah.”

“Have you seen them?” Philip demanded.

“Not yet,” the boy said. “But they’re here. Everyone’s talking about it.” He pointed west, beyond the tables and booths to where a low spur from the hill cut off their view of the peninsula. “Over there is Ganymede. They’re all over there.” The boy leaned closer, a twinkle in his eye. “They’re not letting any of the men in, only boys and their servants. Not for two days, they’re saying. Not until everyone’s gotten here and they’ve gotten us all organized. Until then, they’re only letting boys over there.”

“But the king’s there?” Philip asked.

The boy nodded.

The line advanced, and Demos gazed off toward Ganymede, wishing that the spur from the hill didn’t conceal what lay beyond. Stories about the Oracle and her boy eunuchs had gained almost mythical proportions in Phrygia. Even as remotely as his family lived, Demos had heard how the Oracle could tell the future and how her eunuchs could raise the dead and heal the sick. They’d heard, too, how youths who slept with the prodigiously-endowed, boy eunuchs, became great athletes, and barren women who slept with them grew fertile.

On his bed at night, Demos had imagined what it would be like to sleep with a eunuch – a magical boy, a boy, perhaps, who glowed in the night with the pale fire of Attis. Demos imagined them, beautiful boys, naked… he imagined one of them sliding a long erection inside his butt, a pretty boy planting his magic seed inside Demos. The twelve-year-old swallowed, remembering his imaginings.

Underlying his excitement about this trip – seeing Kaleh, participating in the games, and seeing the king – there lay a deeper expectancy. He and Philip had heard about the things that went on at gymnasia, in the back rooms, between boys and between boys and men. In a society that was profoundly bisexual, and where the male body was worshipped, even boys on a farm might dream of things to do with other boys. This was to be a gymnopaedia, which literally meant, naked dancing. Secretly, in his heart of hearts, Demos hoped for even a small sexual adventure.

The men and boys directly in front of them in the line finished and moved away. Philip, Demos, and their tutor moved up to tables, behind which sat scribes and servants of the governor. Soldiers stood behind them.

“Do you have the fee?” a small bald man asked, holding out an open hand.

Their tutor handed him the required silver coins for the two boys.

“How old are you?” the bald man asked Philip.


The man pulled a long strip of dark red cotton from a stack and handed it to Philip. “All the fifteen-year-olds are in Jin’s herd. This is your color.”

“Jin?” Philip asked. “One of the Oracle’s eunuchs?”

The man nodded impatiently. With a tired sigh, he lifted his voice so others would hear what he was about to say, for the hundredth time. “Listen,” he called out, “so that I don’t have to repeat this again for at least a few minutes… All the boys’ age groups are divided into herds with one of the Oracle’s eunuchs supervising each herd. Twelve-year-olds belong to Aruli’s herd, thirteen year olds belong to Ptolemy, fourteen year olds belong to Bantu, fifteen year olds belong to Jin, sixteen year olds belong to Tazaar, and seventeen year olds belong to the Abij-hah.”

There was an instant babble of voices as boys discussed which herd they were in.

“Quiet!” the little bald man yelled. “Let me finish.”

They quieted.

“You will each wear the color of your herd. That’s what these strips of cloth are for. You can wear your colored strip any way you want. I haven’t been over there, but I hear they’re all going naked otherwise, like at a gymnasium, so it doesn’t matter where you wear your color, just that you have it tied on somewhere… around your waist, across your chest, around your head… ”

“Around your cock,” one of the older boys joked.

“Until somebody gives your cloth a yank!” another boy called out, and the crowd laughed.

Philip walked slowly along the merchants’ tables on the way to the entrance to Ganymede. “Why are you selling these?” he asked, pointing to more strips of colored cloth, identical to those they had been given.

“Most of the boys want more than one,” an old merchant told them, authoritatively. “One for the head, one for the waist.”

Philip chewed on his bottom lip, and then turned to the tutor. “It wouldn’t hurt to have an extra,” he said.

“Me, too,” Demos quickly added. “I want another yellow one.”

The tutor reached dutifully for two bronze coins. A puff of breeze from the direction of the peninsula brought the aroma of grilling meat.

“Do they have food over there?” Demos asked, his stomach suddenly churning.

“They’re supposed to have all the food you need,” the tutor told him.

“But only for the boys,” the merchant said. He pointed at the tutor. “You’ll have to buy food if you didn’t bring any, but don’t worry; there’s plenty here. The priests and priestesses of Cybele are here. They’re selling meat and bread sacrificed to the goddess. There are fruit vendors, too. And others.” He smiled knowingly at the young tutor. “The priestesses have tents and booths over there.” He pointed east, and winked. “They are selling things other than food over there.”

Philip had moved on to the next table. “What are these?” he asked, holding up a small vial on a leather string.

A boy between Demos and Philip in age, one of the merchant’s servants, was managing that table. “It’s got oil in it,” the boy said, as Demos came up behind his brother. “You wear it around your neck.”

“Why?” Philip asked.

“In case you need the oil,” the boy said with a sly smile.

“Why would you need the oil?” Philip asked.

The boy sighed and leaned close. “In case you want to fuck someone… or be fucked.”

Philip blushed instantly, and glanced nervously at Demos and away.

“We ran out of these yesterday and had to make lots more,” the boy at the table said. “All the boys are wearing them. Even if you don’t want to use the oil, you’ll still want to have one because everybody else will have one.”

Philip bit his bottom lip again and glanced at the tutor. “Maybe I better get one.”

“Me, too,” Demos said.

Philip didn’t look at his brother, but he knew damn well Demos had never fucked anybody. He and his little friend Neeco masturbated together – Philip had caught them at it – but he was sure that was all. He, on the other hand, had fucked a couple of the servant boys, and even one of the older servant girls, one of his mother’s maids… twice. “You don’t need it,” he told Demos.

“I might,” Demos told him, determinedly. The younger brother’s cock began to stir at the thought of all the other boys wearing vials of oil, and the implications of that. He was not about to be left out. “I get to have one, too.”

Philip sighed, and looked away. “Alright.”

“And one of these?” the merchant boy asked, holding up a leather shoulder bag. “All the boys at the games are naked. You’ll need something to carry your things.”

“We already have something,” Philip said, pointing to the pouch on his belt. Demos had one, too.

The boy shrugged. “A belt could get in the way.”

Philip chewed his bottom lip once more. “How much?”

Soldiers guarded the entrance to Ganymede, and were letting none of the adult males go any farther. Demos and Philip left their tutor there. “I’ll see you in a day or two, when they let us in for the games,” their tutor told them.

“Don’t waste our money on priestesses,” Philip warned him.

The tutor frowned.

“Or gambling on horse races,” Philip added.

“I will be careful with the money,” the tutor said with a resentful scowl.

Philip gave the young man an ‘I mean it!’ frown and turned to ascend the spur of the hill that blocked the view of Ganymede. Demos followed closely, carrying his bundle of belongings.

Even before they had climbed to the top of the low rise, Demos could hear it; the slow, rhythmic beat of a large drum. And he could smell food.

They reached the top to find that the other side of the spur dropped off much lower than the side they had ascended. The entire peninsula was lower, and from where they stood, they could look down on the entire length of Ganymede, well over a mile. It was flat and open, except for a broad strip of pine forest along the length of its northern side.

The grassy slope down into Ganymede was fairly steep. At its bottom, a raised platform had been built in the middle of a large open area. Beyond that, and running toward the western edge of the peninsula, was a long, oval dirt track – a racing track, with low tiers of seats on the long sides, like stadia, but made with stacked logs and earth, rather than stone.

To Demos’ left, against the river, was the source of the food smell. Cooks were busy with two sides of beef, roasting over a pit. There were other fires with other meats, and ovens for bread.

A variety of buildings and tents dotted the peninsula. Dominating them, and spaced evenly, three on either side of the oval track – three on the north side, and three on the south – were open wooden structures which appeared to Demos to be little more than large roofs made from local pine. Each was square; at least thirty paces on a side. From each of the six structures flew a pennant with one of the six colors of the herds. In front of each structure was an open area, and a small, raised platform. Behind each of the larger structures, was a smaller, roof structure. And slightly farther back still, stood an open framed latrine.

Demos could see one, large tent toward the far end of Ganymede, with many pennants. There were soldiers on guard there, and Demos guessed that it was the tent of the king. Scattered around the various structures were wrestling rings, paths for jumping, and other marked-out areas with purposes Demos could only guess at. Directly to his right, the pine forest climbed from the peninsula up the hill behind him. Demos glimpsed what looked like an amphitheater through the trees.

And everywhere, there were boys, hundreds of them, all naked except for colored strips of cloth tied about their waist or head or both. Some were wrestling. Some were racing. Some were playing impromptu games. Most were walking about in packs with identically colored strips of cloth. A distant movement, far across Ganymede on the river, caught Demos’ attention. He shielded his eyes, straining to see. “What are they doing?” he asked Philip. “Way over there across the river.“

Philip, who possessed notoriously sharp vision, squinted for a moment, peering, then grinned. “Rope swings. They’re hanging from trees on the other side of the river, and lots of boys are swinging out over the river on them.”


“Truly,” Philip said, dismissively. He started down the slope, and Demos followed.

“Where are you going?” Philip demanded, turning back.

Demos looked up with a frown. “I’m following you.”

“No you aren’t. I’m going to my herd. That building,” he said, pointing to the left side of the peninsula where the big, square-roofed shelter which flew the red pennant sat close to the food preparation area. “And you’re going to yours,” he said, sweeping his hand across to the northern side of the peninsula, where the big, square-roofed shelter with the yellow pennant sat close to the pine forest at the base of the hill.”

Demos frowned unhappily. When Philip resumed walking down the hill, Demos once again followed. Philip stopped. “Go on! I’m not going to let you follow me around all week. Now go!”

Demos watched his brother turn and continue on. He swallowed, nervously. Slowly, he turned toward the roof for his herd, and continued down in that direction. Two seventeen-year-olds ran past him, nude except for the white strips of cotton around their waists and heads, the long ends of which danced on the air behind them. They were laughing, and their cocks swung and jostled as they ran.

Demos stared after them. Their beautiful, strong bodies distracted him from his aloneness for a moment. But then he thought about their dark patches of pubic hair – Demos had no pubic hair yet. He was going to feel really awkward if he was the only one without short hairs… he’d hide.

He passed other naked boys in pairs, threes, fives. As he drew close to Aruli’s herd shelter, he passed three boys with the yellow strips of twelve-year-olds tied around their waists. Two had them around their heads as well. Demos was grateful to see that none of them had pubic hair. But then his heart skipped a beat. All three had small oil vials around their necks.

Demos felt his face flush and his cock thicken at the thought of the three boys and what the oil vials implied they might do together. He turned to look back at them after they passed. Three white, little butts flexed as they walked. One of them had a fleshy butt that particularly drew Demos’ eye.

He turned back toward the shelter with a rising frustration. All these boys were used to being naked at their gymnasiums. He wasn’t. It was going to be damn hard to keep down his erections.

Arriving at the shelter, Demos found that it had a raised, earthen floor, and a high roof. It was cooler in the shade, under the roof.

Gear and belongings of other twelve-year-olds were already scattered around the floor. Three boys were there arranging their gear or changing out of their clothing. A black Nubian slave approached in a loin cloth and bowed. “Welcome to the pavilion of Aruli, young master,” he said. “I am Oot, and I serve here. May I help you with your things?”

Demos shrugged, and let Oot take the large bundle of belongings from his back. He followed the Nubian into the shelter and past two of the boys, who seemed to be together. Oot set Demos’ things down close to the northern edge of the shelter, not far from the third boy, who had already stripped and wore only the yellow band of cloth around his waist. Sitting crossed-legged, the boy was simply looking around. Demos glanced into the boy’s lap and was again pleased to see no public hair, like himself. His eyes rose to find the boy looking at him, and Demos looked away because he had been staring at the boy’s crotch.

“Will this be alright, young master?” Oot asked with a small bow.

Demos nodded. “Yea. Thanks.”

Oot grinned. “Let me know if you require anything else, young master.” He turned to go.

“Wait,” Demos blurted out. “I mean, now that I’m here, what do I do next?”

The other boy, the one who had been watching, got up and came over. “I’ll help him, Oot,” the boy said. “I’ve been here since yesterday.”

“Very good, young master,” Oot said with a white-toothed smile before he turned and left.

The boy was slightly shorter than Demos, and slight of frame. He had dark brown hair, pale skin, dark eyes, and a boyish grin which he now flashed at Demos. Demos smiled back.

“My name is Lycos,” the boy said.

Demos stood transfixed for a moment, by the small vial of oil tied tightly around the boy’s neck – it was oily!

Demos had seen pornographic drawings in Varashed, and when they passed through Kaleh, but nothing as instantly erotic as that oily vial on a cute boy’s neck, just inches away.

Lycos saw where Demos was looking, and felt his cheeks grow warm. “What’s your name,” Lycos asked quickly, before his cock could begin to rise.

Demos look up. His face felt flushed. “Uh… Demetrius… Demos… people call me Demos.”

“I am happy to meet you, Demos,” Lycos said with grin. “Go ahead and set out your stuff, and then I’ll show you around.”

Demos nodded, and dropped to his knees to roll out his gear. When he did, Lycos’ hairless cock and balls were at eye level. Like Demos’ cock and balls, Lycos’ had begun their adolescent growth spurt – that growth that began in, and transformed, the genitals just before the arrival of hair. Demos stole glances at Lycos’ as he spread out his bedding; he couldn’t help himself, especially when Lycos’ cock grew pink and started to lengthen.

Lycos knelt beside Demos and picked up Demos’ sword, mainly to distract himself. “A good sword,” he said.

Demos shrugged. “It’s an old one that my brother and I have used for learning.”

Lycos nodded, setting the sword down. He sat back on his haunches. “Aren’t you going to take your clothes off?”

Demos swallowed. “Is everybody naked here?” he asked. He pointed toward the other side of the shelter. “Oot isn’t.”

Lycos smiled. “The soldiers and the servants have clothes on, but not us. Not any of the boys. It’s like one, big gymnasium.” He leaned closer. The Abij-hah and the Oracle’s eunuchs… they’re naked, too,” he whispered. “Even the Oracle’s naked.”

Demos’ mouth fell partly open. “You’ve seen her without clothes?”

“I’ve seen them all without clothes. Have you ever seen a naked eunuch?”

Demos shook his head.

“It’s weird,” Lycos said, leaning close again. “I mean, their cocks hang straight down like this.” He pointed directly down with his index finger and waggled it. “Because they don’t have any balls, you know? But it sort of makes their cocks look longer… well they all seem to have long cocks anyway. And they’re pretty, like girls… prettier than girls.”

“What about the Oracle?” Demos asked.

“She’s pretty, too,” Lycos said, reflecting on it, “but not the same way the eunuchs are. Especially not the same way as the Abij-hah. He’s like… ” Lycos paused, trying to find the right words.

“Like what?” Demos asked.

Lycos shrugged. “You just have to see him. He’s real beautiful.” Lycos tilted his head. “Where are you from?”

“South of Varashed,” Demos answered. He took up his own vial in his fingers. He could put off undressing a moment longer by taking time to tie the vial on. He lifted it to his neck. “We live way south of Varashed.” He fumbled with the leather strands.

“Here, I’ll tie that for you,” Lycos offered, kneeling up and scooting forward to Demos’ side on his knees. Demos shifted for him, and it was unintended, but Lycos’ cock and balls came to rest against Demos’ bare arm. They both realized it in an electric moment. But Lycos didn’t back away. Instead, he tried to tie the leather strands as quickly as he could, before his cock started to get hard. He fumbled with the strands, but finally managed to get them tied. He sat quickly back onto his haunches, hands in his lap. His eyes dropped to the vial around Demos’ neck.

“Where are you from?” Demos asked.

Lycos looked up, meeting his gaze. “Umm, Seleucia. Well, a village outside Seleucia.”

“Do they have a gymnasium there?” Demos asked.

Lycos shook his head. “No, but several boys from our town have been working out together.” His eyes dropped to Demos’ clothes. “Are you going to take your clothes off?”

Demos frowned. “You’re used to being naked… with those guys you work out with. I’m not.”

Lycos shook his head. “We didn’t work out naked. Two brothers didn’t want to.” He laughed. “They were really unhappy when everyone here started going naked.”

Demos looked around. “Are they here?”

Lycos shook his head. “Nah, all the boys I worked out with are older than me.” He took a deep breath and let it out, waiting.

Demos’ cock had grown momentarily less rigid, so he rose on his knees and pulled off his tunic, laying it to one side. Then he sat back down on his haunches, hands in his lap.

Lycos’ eyes surveyed his new friend. Demos did enough farm work that his body was lean and well-muscled for a twelve-year-old. Lycos’ eyes rose to Demos’ once more. “Are you going to tie on your yellow color?”

Demos nodded, looking around for the strip. He started to reach for it, but as soon as his hands left his lap, his cock began rising. The strip was out of reach. He stretched for it, his cock rising upward. He quickly returned his hands, and yellow cloth, to his lap.

Demos flushed. He was a little angry and embarrassed. “I’m not used to being naked,” he said. “And I’m not used to boys wearing that.” He pointed at the vial around Lycos’ neck. “I haven’t really done anything like… you know… that.”

Lycos shook his head. “I haven’t either.”

Demos frowned. “But your vial is all oily, you’ve used it.”

Lycos shook his head. “I saw another boy’s that was oily and it looked so… well, like he used it. And I thought,” he smiled nervously and looked down. “Well, I thought that if another boy wanted to do something like that with me, and my vial looked oily – like I’d used it – well he’d know I would try something like that.”

Demos nodded, and leaned toward Lycos slightly. “A boy and I back home, we stroke each other off, but that’s all I’ve done.”

Lycos flushed and looked down. “My erastes has stroked me off. Sometimes he puts his cock between my legs and, you know, sort of fucks between my legs while he strokes me off.”

“You already have an erastes?” Demos asked in surprise.

Lycos nodded. “My father wasn’t ready for me to, but my erastes is my mother’s brother, and he is wealthy.”

Demos frowned. “I don’t have an erastes, and I’ve never done anything like that. You know. Between the legs.” He swallowed. “Do you squirt juice yet?”

Lycos shook his head. “Do you?”

Demos shook his head. “No.”

They sat there a moment, hands in their laps.

“My cock won’t get soft,” Demos said.

“Nor mine,” Lycos agreed. He glanced around. “I saw some boys sneak into the woods this morning. I think they went to have sex. We could run real fast into the woods before anyone could see our hard cocks, and we could stroke each other off until they go down.”

Demos almost trembled, sitting so close to this other naked boy; talking about stroking each other. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath and nodded. “Let’s do it.”

“Ready?” Lycos asked, looking around the pavilion. The two other boys were still there, along with two more who had arrived and were talking to them. No one was looking their way.

Lycos’ eyes met Demos’. Demos nodded.

They both got up, backs to the rest of the pavilion, hands over their genitals, and they ran, fast, directly for the woods, past the much smaller shelter for servants, past the latrine, into the trees and dense ferns that would block the view of others.

They found a small gully and stopped, catching their breath. They got their first good looks at each other’s erection. Each was thick; more youth than boy. Demos’ curved up an inch longer than Lycos’, but the shorter boy’s was still long enough that Demos could easily wrap the fingers of his right hand around it, and he did that, just the way he and Neeco had done back home.

Lycos took Demos’ cock into the palm of his right hand, and they stepped close together. They stroked. At first, Lycos was a little awkward about it, but quickly got the hang of it.

“Do you like it,” Demos asked in a thick voice, “when your erastes fucks between your legs?”

Lycos shrugged. “I like it when we rub cocks. You want to rub cocks?”

“How?” Demos asked. “Do you hold them together?”

“No,” Lycos said. “One of us lies on his back and the other one lies down on him and we rub cocks that way.”

“Alright,” Demos said, his breath shallow.

Lycos looked around, spotted a soft bed of pine needles, and tugged Demos by the cock toward it. They made it over, still clutching each other’s cock, moving awkwardly. Lycos lay down on his back, legs slightly apart. He held up skinny, outstretched arms. “Now you lie on me.”

Demos’ eyes dropped to Lycos’ erection. It curved, a deep pink, up against Lycos’ lighter-skinned belly, foreskin over most of the crown, looking thick between Lycos’ narrow hips. And Demos wanted to rub his cock against it. He dropped to his knees between Lycos’ skinny legs, and lay down onto him; for the first time, laying his naked body down on another boy’s… warm skin on warm skin… smooth legs between smooth legs, bare belly on bare belly and chest on chest. His face was close to Lycos’, his weight fully on the other boy. He tried to decide what to do with his hands.

He finally used them to grasp Lycos’ shoulders, and his breath caught when he felt Lycos’ hands settle on his own butt. Their breath was hot on their faces and necks. Lycos had a good smell; a smell like Neeco’s when they wrestled each other.

“Just start rubbing,” Lycos said in a thick voice as he moved his hips.

Demos moved his. After only a few thrusts, instincts took over. He shifted some weight to his elbows and knees, laying more lightly on Lycos, focusing the pressure between their bodies at their cocks.

They rocked, began panting, and grunted softly.

“Do you like it?” Lycos asked.

“Yeah, it feels good.”

They pressed the sides of their faces together, feeling their bodies, feeling it all, especially where it felt so good, rubbing their cocks.

“It’s good on the bottom,” Lycos said, squeezing the fleshy globes of Demos’ butt with his hands the way his erastes did him. “I’ve never been on the bottom before.”

They pumped and pumped, and Lycos ran his hands up Demos’ sides. “You feel strong,” he said.

Demos only grunted, and then tried circling his hips, and his eyes drooped because that felt good.

“Want to try it on the bottom?” Lycos asked.

Demos paused and nodded.

They rolled, awkwardly, but staying together. And then Demos was on his back, legs apart, and Lycos was between them with his legs, and they were rubbing again, cheek to cheek. Demos’ hands slid down to Lycos’ bottom the way Lycos had done to him. He closed a hand over each small globe and squeezed, pulling them with Lycos’ thrusts; grinding against him.

“It feels different on the bottom,” Demos said.

Lycos nodded. “I like it both ways. I like this a lot better than with my erastes.”

Lycos pumped faster and Demos matched him.

They quit talking, breath coming rapid and shallow, fast thrusting. Lycos whimpered at the start of his dry orgasm – the intense, prepubescent kind of orgasm. And then Demos whimpered, too. They thrust together a long time before finally slowing… slightly.

“I don’t think mine’s going to get soft,” Lycos said.

“Did you do it?” Demos asked. “You know… get the feeling?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah, but my cock isn’t getting soft either.”

They paused and Lycos lifted his head to look down into Demos’ eyes. “You want to use our oil?” he asked, face still deeply flushed.

Demos nodded. “Yeah.”

Lycos climbed off him, kneeling up to one side. “You can do it to me, if I can do it to you afterward.”

Demos sat up, and met Lycos’ gaze. “Alright,” he said, nodding.

Lycos turned away slightly and got on to all fours. He looked back at Demos. “I think you put some oil on your cock and rub some in my hole.”

Demos nodded, fumbling at the knot at the back of his neck. He got it undone and knelt up. Carefully, he opened the vial and poured a little oil into Lycos’ butt crack. He quickly rubbed it in before it could drip off. Then he poured a small amount onto his crown and down along the top of his shaft. He worked it over the entire end of it.

He put the cap back on the vial and set it aside. Then he scooted up behind Lycos, his knees between the other boy’s. Holding the base of his glistening cock, Demos moved forward, pointing his crown in between Lycos’ buttocks. He could see Lycos pink, puckered opening, and put his crown there. He pressed forward. It didn’t go. But then it did, popping in.

“Oh!” Lycos said in a small voice.

“Is it alright?” Demos asked.

“Feels a little funny; that’s all.”

Demos placed his hands on Lycos’ hips, and holding him there, he eased his hips forward, watching with fascination as his shaft disappeared between Lycos’ small buttocks and into his bottom, while at the same time, Demos felt an exquisite tightness and warmth travel down his shaft.

“How does it feel?” Lycos asked.

“Really good. How does it feel to you?”


Demos slowly pulled his cock back out and then pushed it back in farther. Lycos’ tightness moving up and down his shaft felt intensely good, especially with the added stimulation of watching it. And then, when Demos pushed all the way in, it felt incredibly good to be stretched all the way inside, and to feel his lap pressing Lycos’ hard bottom. Demos pulled back and pressed home again. He could feel Lycos’ tightness pull back his foreskin and stretch the skin on Demos’ shaft. He pumped again, this time giving Lycos’ little bottom a bump with his loins.

Demos started a rhythm, his little impacts against Lycos’ bottom making soft, squishy noises. Far away, he could hear boys calling to each other, and he had an idle thought… what would Philip say if he walked up on him now?

He pushed the thought away, closing his eyes and driving home again harder.

“Whatever you’re doing,” Lycos said, “it’s starting to feel really good inside.” He began moving, too; butting back against Demos’ thrusts.

They passed two other boys on their return through the woods to the pavilion; two thirteen-year-olds doing exactly what they had just done. Demos and Lycos paused for a moment to watch.

“Better get going,” Demos said, giving Lycos a nudge. “Or we’ll get stiff cocks again and have to do it all over.”

Lycos grinned. He slipped an arm behind Demos’ waist as they turned toward the pavilion. “You must move your bedding next to mine,” Lycos said. “We must sleep together at night.”

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