Date: Tue, 10 Oct 2023 01:14:03 +0000 (UTC) From: Randolph Adams Subject: Jorge's Fuckbuddies: Mr. A Meets His Nephews (incest) Nifty is a wonderful resource for horny gay men everywhere. If you love the stories, do your part to keep it around: https://donate.nifty.org/ "Jorge's Fuckbuddies" is a series of interlocking short stories with a large cast of characters. Not much story . . . LOTS of sex . . . character-driven and carefully written, with a deliberate attempt to showcase a variety of characters and a variety of sexual activities. As with all my stories, you are most likely to enjoy it if you start from the beginning ("Juanito Pulls Train") and give it your full attention when you read. Remember that these stories are fiction: the events and characters are not real. They are also fantasy: it's okay to do things in your imagination that you cannot do in reality.Ê If you have difficulty distinguishing fantasy from reality, please stop reading now. And please stay away from video games, internet searches, and voting booths.Ê No children or animals were harmed in the making of these stories.Ê At least, not in America. I really can't say exactly what happened in India. MR A MEETS HIS NEPHEWS By the time Baba first buggered me, back in Bengaluru, two of my older brothers had already taught me how to take it up the arse. Mohammed, my eldest brother, had been buggering Barir, my next eldest brother, for years. I think that he started almost as soon as Baba started buggering Mohammed, which meant Barir was very young. Next it was Irfam's turn. He says that he got it from Baba first, and then from Mohammed, and then from Daada, Baba's father. All this was very discreet. Baba or Daada would call one of the boys into their bedrooms when Mama was away from the house. I would go and listen at the door to the whimpering and strange slapping sounds that came from the room, and sometimes Farheen, my younger brother, would join me. We quickly learned that when we heard loud grunting followed by silence, we had to run away from the door so we would not get caught. We were confused by what we heard, but I was intrigued and wanted to know more. Once, when Baba had called Barir into his room, Mohammed caught me listening outside the door. He wanted to know what I was listening to, and I told him I did not know. He said he would teach me what was happening in the room, so I would know what I was listening to. He took me back to the bedroom he shared with Barir and told me to take off my clothes. I hesitated because I was embarrassed to be naked in front of him, so he pulled my clothing off me till I was naked. I stood with my hands hiding my member, which was stiff. Mohammed opened his trousers and pulled down his pants. His member was stiff too, and it had hair around it, and it was much bigger than mine. I think that my eyes must have been very wide because he asked me if I liked what I saw. I suppose I said yes, because he pulled me closer and told me to open my mouth, and he pushed his member into my mouth. He told me to suckle it, like it was a sweet, but I remember thinking that it tasted salty, not sweet . . . but I liked it as much as a sweet, and I suckled it willingly. I am sure that my hand was on my own member as I suckled Mohammed's member. Then he told me to get on the bed, on my hands and knees. I heard him spit, and I felt something pushing into my arse. I did not know what buggering was, and I was very surprised. I think that I must have tightened my arsehole, because Mohammed slapped my arse, hard, and told me to open up. Then he pushed his member into my arsehole, and I cried out from the pain and begged him to pull his member out. He ignored my pleading and put a hand over my mouth to quiet my cries, but he kept his member inside me, moving it in and out. After I stopped crying, he removed his hand and reminded me that I had asked to learn what was happening when Barir was with Baba. And I found that, if I let my arsehole relax, his member moving in and out did not hurt, and my own member became stiff again. After several minutes, I decided that I liked this feeling. Then Mohammed was grunting loudly, just as I had heard from Baba's room, and I felt a pulsing in my arse, and Mohammed told me that he was filling me with his seed. I imagined plants growing in my arse, plants that looked like Mohammed, and I became worried again. But I did not say anything. After that day, Mohammed buggered me frequently. Baba and Daada no longer invited him into their rooms, and he explained that it was because he had hair now, and was a man, not a boy. Barir never tried to bugger me, but soon after Daada buggered Irfam, my third brother came and found me, and pushed me to my knees and made me suckle his member. It was small, hardly larger than my own, not big, with hair, like Mohammed's. And he made me turn around, like Mohammed did, and he pushed his small member into my arse and buggered me. It did not feel as good as Mohammed's member, but I still enjoyed it. After many months of Mohammed and Irfam buggering me, the day finally came when Baba called me into his bedroom. I was eager to show him that I knew what he would want, and I quickly began to suckle his member. It was even bigger than Mohammed's and had much more hair. I thought that Baba would be pleased, but he became angry with me, and called me a bad name. I did not know what it meant, at the time, but I learned later what it meant . . . `whore'. I am glad I did not know what it meant that first time, but I could tell from the way that he said it that it was a bad name. He threw me on the bed, and pushed his member into my arse very roughly, and when I moaned at the feel of his member moving inside me, he called me the bad name again. And he buggered me roughly until his seed filled me, and then he slapped me and told me to leave. The next day, Daada told me to come into his room, and he called me the same bad name, and he buggered me even more roughly than Baba had, till tears came to my eyes. From that day, Baba or Daada buggered me almost every day, sometimes both in the same day, one right after the other, their seed still warm inside me. They would find me even when Mama was in the house, and they would tell me to keep quiet as they pushed their members into me and filled me with their seed. And Mohammed and Irfam continued to bugger me, even after Irfam grew hair and was no longer buggered by Baba and Daada. I shared a room with Irfam and Farheen, but Mohammed would come to our room at night to bugger me when we were supposed to be sleeping. Sometimes Farheen would sleep through it, and sometimes he would pretend to be asleep and would watch. Once, after Mohammed had left his seed in me and gone back to his room, and Irfam had left his seed in me and fallen asleep, Farheen came and lay on top of me and moved his hips the way that he had seen his brothers do. His member was still very small, but I wriggled my arse till it entered me, and he became very excited. He moved his hips quickly till his body was shaking all over. After that, he buggered me whenever he could, but he was careful never to do it when Mohammed or Irfam was watching. Of course, the servants knew everything that happened, but they did not dare to say anything. But one day, our driver . . . I never knew his name, though he worked for us for many years . . . he found me alone in a corner of the garden. He showed me his member, and I suckled it, and he buggered me, with one hand over my mouth so I would not cry out. But I knew to be silent, and after that, when I sought him out, he did not cover my mouth when he buggered me. Somehow, Baba learned about this, and one day there was a new driver, and Baba beat me and called me `whore' and buggered me with great savagery. I felt great shame because of how they treated me, but the feel of their members inside me brought me joy. Farheen was three years younger than me, and even after Barir grew hair and Irfam grew hair, and Baba and Daada had only me to bugger, they did not turn to Farheen. But Mohammed did, and when I began to grow hair, I warned Farheen that he must pretend that he had never done such things, and he must wait and let Baba and Daada do to him what Mohammed was doing to him, without showing any joy or pleasure. ******** Baba and I pick up Uncle Farheen and Aunt Nuria and my cousins, Ahmad and Bilal, at the airport. Three weeks is a pretty long visit . . . they'll probably be sick of us by the end of it, and vice versa . . . and the boys are staying all summer long. I'm already planning my weekend escapes . . . MULTIPLE trips to San Antonio to see Tyler! They're all jetlagged and exhausted, and the whole meeting at the airport and ride back to our house is a little weird. It's like, nobody knows what to say . . . or even what language to say it in. Baba speaks almost as much English at home as Urdu, so I think he's gotten rusty. And my Urdu? . . . Let's not go there. Let's just say it's `family' Urdu, though apparently it's just `my immediate nuclear family' Urdu. I feel super awkward every time I have to say anything. Baba told me he hasn't been back to India in seventeen years . . . not since Uncle Farheen's wedding. I was only one or two years old, and Baba hadn't been working long, so I guess we didn't have much money then . . . anyway, Mama and I stayed home. So that means the last time Mama saw Uncle Farheen in person was at her own wedding. And she's never even seen Aunt Nuria in person. Turns out, Uncle Farheen is now a hot daddy . . . in my eyes, at least. He looks a lot like Baba . . . a little taller and not as heavy, and his beard is still black, though it's streaked with a lot of grey. I'm immediately picturing him in a sling, with my dick pounding his hairy daddy hole. He's got to be hairy down there, right? I mean . . . he's Baba's brother! Uncle Farheen has no idea what I'm picturing, of course. He's tired from the flight and pretty subdued, and he even though he seems to understand English pretty well, his responses are all short and in Urdu. He seems kind of tense. Aunt Nuria is the liveliest of the bunch, with the best English. She has a striking face, and a prominent nose that reminds me of Mama . . . I wonder if they're from the same part of India? . . . and she moves from the airport to the car with an air of confidence. I like her a lot, from the moment I see her in action, directing her sons in collecting the bags from the conveyor belt and including me in the job as a matter of course. None of us have ever met Ahmad or Bilal, though we've seen stuff about them on Facebook. Ahmad is 16, and his parents are always posting about what a good student he is and the academic prizes he's won. They never post anything about him that's actually interesting, so let's just say I've been keeping my expectations low. He's cute enough in photos . . . nothing special, but a nice face and what looks like sort of a normal body, with maybe a couple extra pounds. Bilal is 13, and he's kind of a jock, I guess. He plays a lot of cricket, and he's an ace at badminton, judging from the posts. His face looks like a younger version of Ahmad, but where Ahmad is nothing special to look at, Bilal is super cute . . . something about the coloring or the proportions, I guess. Or maybe he's just more photogenic? His body still has that adolescent awkwardness, but you can see it's toned, with actual muscles. It's funny to know all these things about people you've never actually met! Seeing my cousins now, in person, they're clearly the same guys I was seeing on Facebook . . . but also not the same. There's a warmth to Ahmad, a sweetness, that you don't pick up in his photos. He's clearly booksmart, but I get the feeling he's smart in other ways as well. His English isn't great, but it's serviceable, as long as you can listen through his accent, which is pretty heavy. Bilal is as cocky as you'd expect a cute jock to be . . . he actually reminds me of Tyler, just a bit . . . but it feels like there's a slightly aggressive edge in the way he interacts with his older brother that is . . . not cute. I can't tell if he knows any English at all. He sticks to Urdu for the whole ride home and mostly sounds tired and kind of whiny. We get them home, and show them their rooms, and they all basically go straight to bed as soon as they politely can. Mama buzzes around downstairs, tidying up. She's sleeping in Baba's room while the family is visiting . . . not so things `look right' (though that's probably part of it) but because we don't have that many bedrooms. My aunt and uncle are in Mama's room, and my cousins are sharing the guest room. I'm counting my lucky stars I didn't end up on the couch! I follow Baba to his room to make sure he's doing okay. He pats my cheek and smiles and says he's fine . . . he just needs some time to discover who his younger brother is, now that he's no longer young. "How old is he?" "He is three years younger than me . . . so, forty-five years old." "He's looking good! I'd totally fuck him." "Very likely, he would enjoy that. When he was young, he enjoyed taking it in the arse, and he enjoyed buggering my arse. But I have not discussed such things with him in many, many years. After I grew hair, he stopped buggering me. Only Mohammed, my eldest brother, continued to bugger me as I grew older. You are named for him, you know . . . even though Farheen was the brother I loved best." He pauses and looks thoughtful. "I do not know if Farheen buggers his sons or not . . . though most likely he does." I kiss Baba again, then take his hand and lead him to my room for a goodnight fuck, sweet and deep, before sending him off to his bed with my load warming his insides. ******** The jetlag is a terrible thing. All of our guests are up before me . . . wide awake at 3:00 in the morning! I do not wake Zainab or Mo . . . let them sleep. I will feed my poor brother and his family on my own. I make them chai, and heat up some dal and chapati, and we settle in to chat as we wait for the sun to rise. I hardly spoke with Nuria at her wedding, so I feel that I am meeting her for the first time. She is very charming . . . lively and quick . . . she uses language so playfully I am sure I am missing half of her wordplay. In that regard, she is like Zainab. My wife could always talk circles around me! Mo got that from her. When she and our son begin to play with language . . . I have no choice but to sit with my mouth closed and listen in wonder! There is something in Nuria's face that is also like Zainab . . . strong, almost masculine features, with a prominent nose, like my father's. My wife's features are striking . . . people usually say she is handsome rather than pretty. Mo got that from her as well. He is such a handsome boy! Nuria has a similar sort of face, but somehow, she is pretty. Perhaps not beautiful, though perhaps she is . . . I am not the best judge of womanly beauty! Her eldest son, Ahmad, is a beautiful boy. Not in his face . . . though it is a perfectly fine face . . . but in his spirit, his character. So beautiful! Bilal is a beautiful boy as well, certainly . . . in his face and body. I must wait to see about the rest. ******** By the time I drag my ass out of bed, the Bangalore crowd are dressed and fed and ready for sightseeing. Good luck with that! Austin's a great city . . . but for sightseeing? Call me skeptical. Or call me when you're heading down to San Antonio! My dick in Tyler's ass is a sight I'm looking forward to seeing . . . and the riverwalk is pretty cool too. I'm off to my summer job . . . it's too boring to even tell you what it is . . . and I don't get back till dinnertime. The relatives are looking worn . . . jetlag, still, I guess, or a busy day pretending to be interested by Austin's so-called `sights'. Baba puts together a delicious meal, and everyone falls into bed. Next day is a little better. They're up and puttering around the house by the time I roll out of bed, but at least they're not all fully dressed. My younger cousin is in a pair of shorts without a shirt . . . THAT catches my attention! Trim, smooth, beautiful color . . . nice muscle tone . . . I wonder what he'd think of Semper Phit! The idea of Bilal in the steam room makes my cock chub up a little. Off again to my summer job . . . too boring to even tell you I'm going . . . back again just in time for dinner. Tonight, though, dinner is a cookout next door. Mr. Flores has the grill fired up, and the outdoor table all nicely set. During the pandemic, when there was nothing to do, we all got together on a project in his backyard. It's right at our property line, so it really feels like shared space. Pavers, a pergola with a roof over one part and an open trellis over the other . . . vines growing all over the trellis . . . built-in barbeque . . . big outdoor table with lots of chairs. On our side of the property line there's even a little pool you can wade in or sit and dangle your feet in. We put up a high fence around our back yards, combining the two yards and screening them from the neighbors. Let's hear it for ranch houses . . . no second-floor windows for peeping Toms! Old Mrs. Jenkins next to us is deaf as a post, and the Sanchez's on the other side of the Flores's basically never leave their air conditioning. There's a golf course behind us, so . . . tons of privacy. We took a lot of advantage of that privacy during the pandemic. I glance up at the hooks in the underside of the pergola. Mr. Flores has taken down the sling . . . yeah, that would have been fun to explain away! I check the door to the `garden shed' that's actually a playroom . . . locked. Good. I think of the pandemic nights we all spent out here . . . our own little pod, fucking and sucking away the boredom, outdoors under the stars. Everyone pissing on Mr. Flores as he lay face up on the pavers, grinning ear to ear! Baba, riding a dildo as he sucked the rest of us, switching from dick to dick to dick, stroking two dicks while he sucked a third . . . and all the time, bouncing up and down on that silicone horsedick! Or Juanito lose his cherry, right there where the sling is usually hanging . . . his father's cock finally teasing his hole open and sliding inside after years of the little cutie begging for it. How we all whooped and high-fived when it finally happened! I guess he wasn't exactly cherry . . . Manny had been fucking him for ages, and we would all stand around and cheer Juanito on as he took his older brother's little boy dick . . . but I was there to see him take his first adult dick . . . and his second, which would be my father's . . . and his third . . . well, three guesses! We saved the biggest for last, after his little hole had opened up a little. But God, was he tight . . . I didn't think I was going to get in! But my big guy was bound and determined to take every cock that was there that night, and the little piglet got his wish! I realize, with a start, that I'm getting a raging hardon at a family barbeque. Not cool! Juanito's new dog bounds up and distracts me. My little cutie got him as a birthday present and absolutely dotes on him. He's a rescue . . . sweet, a little rambunctious, basically irresistible . . . reminds me of someone I know! Mr. Flores says Juanito took one look at him in the shelter and said, `That's Perro Pedro!' . . . and now Perro Pedro is dashing around our back yards, nosing into everything. Thank God he's not a barker! As I'm squatting there, playing with the dog, hugging him and ruffling his fur, the older of my two cousins comes up. Ahmad looks at me and the dog and smiles shyly. "She is your dog?" "No, he belongs to the boy next door . . . to Juanito." "I have meet Wahnito?" "I don't know, maybe not yet? Look there is, coming out of the house. He's the one on the left, the taller one." Juanito and Anthony burst out of the Flores's back door. Juanito looks upset, and Anthony is cheerfully chattering away, looking totally oblivious. ******** Anthony runs into my room, where I'm wrestling with Perro Pedro. I haven't seen him in over a week. He texted that he has `BIG NEWS!!!!!!!!' but he didn't say what it was. I let go of my dog, and he runs off, sniffing after something. Anthony is so pleased with himself he can hardly talk right. "So! You know Mo's boyfriend? The muscley guy he brought back from college? I fisted him in the steam room! And he fucked me and breeded me! It felt really great! He's SOOO hot . . ." Anthony keeps talking, but I stop listening. And he KEEPS ON talking, so I head for the back yard. Maybe if there are other people around, he'll stop talking! He's going ON and ON about what a GREAT time he had, and how WONDERFUL Tyler is. I don't wanna hear ANY MORE about STUPID old TYLER! We get outside, and Anthony is STILL talking. I see Mo there, by the dinner table, with Perro Pedro and an Indian boy I don't know. Probably his cousin . . . unless this one's a BOYFRIEND too! Papi's there, talking to Mr. Azharuddin and another Indian guy, and I run up to him and hug him REALLY hard and start crying, even though I don't want to, and it's really embarrassing, and I feel like such a baby. ******** Juanito throws his arms around me and bursts into tears, which surprises the hell out of me. Not that life with my youngest is never dramatic, but I usually have some hint that there'll be tears before the waterworks start flowing. Little Anthony Pham is standing awkwardly to one side, looking confused. Who knows?! If you have kids, you're going to have some drama every now and then. I excuse myself from Azim and Farheen and go tend to my baby. "What's going on, sweetheart?" "Mo has a b . . . b . . . BOYFRIEND!" "Oh? . . . Oooooooh!" I give my baby a nice long hug. "I suppose it's the guy he brought back from college last week? Oh baby, I'm so sorry. You know he loves you, right? I'm sure he still loves you . . . but he can love other people too! He gets to love who he loves . . . we don't get to control that." Juanito does not find this as comforting as I'd hoped. He's still wailing loudly into my shirt, which is so wet I'll probably have to change it. I plow gamely on, not sure I'm being at all helpful. "There's not a limited supply of love, you know. Mo can love this boy, and love his father, and love you . . . just like I can love you, and Manny, and Azim, and Amos . . . all of you! You don't have to choose, and you don't have to limit yourself . . . love expands, to welcome in everyone you love!" At least he's sniffling rather than wailing now. I shut up and hug him close, patiently waiting till he's ready to go on with life . . . and maybe even dinner. ******** It breaks my heart to see our little Juanito so distressed . . . although I have no idea what is distressing him! I remember when Mo was that age . . . things that seemed to me very trivial would cause him to wail, while things that I thought would be very upsetting he would accept without complaint. I am sorry that our conversation with Jorge was interrupted. I was just beginning to explain to Farheen that Jorge and I have a sexual relationship, a loving friendship, without shame. It is an easier conversation with Jorge next to me, but I continue to explain, even though he has gone. I prefer to speak of these things in English, but Farheen persists in responding in our native language. It is an odd and uncomfortable conversation. "Brother, can we not speak frankly of these things? We both know what our father, and his father, did to us, and what our eldest brother did as well. And what we have done to each other, when we were younger." "Not all sexual relations are bad! And if we are willing to do a thing, we should be willing to talk about it." "I wish to say them! Clearly and openly. You have met Jorge. I love him, and I make love with him. It is very beautiful and precious to me." "What is decency? Was Baba decent?" "Did you ever let him be alone with Ahmad or Bilal? Ever?!" My brother is silent. He looks uncomfortable. "Good! Because your boys should never be treated the way Baba treated us!" My brother is silent again. When he finally speaks, his tone is as sulky as a little boy's. "I show him respect! But I would never leave him alone with my son . . . although at this point, Mo could handle him. More than handle him! He would tell Baba to take his hateful old ideas and bugger off!" "Have you buggered your sons? Have you?" "Have you? I have. I buggered Mo when he was still a child, and after he grew hair and became a man, I still buggered him. And he has buggered me! We take great pleasure . . . we find so much joy . . . in our sexual relations. It does not matter who is a man and who is a boy . . . there is great pleasure in buggering! It can be an expression of great love . . . if you let it be." I see emotions passing across my brother's face, but I do not understand them. He opens he mouth to speak . . . once, twice . . . but no words come forth. And then, to my great surprise, he begins to weep. He weeps loudly, choking on his tears, and even though I am very annoyed with him, I gather him in my arms and comfort him, as though he were only nine and had just been buggered by our father for the first time. With Juanito in tears and Farheen in tears . . . what a joyful cookout we are having this evening! ******** I quit crying, and Papi pats my butt and tells me to go entertain my guests. Anthony's talking with another Indian boy . . . younger and cuter than the one Mo is still talking to. Or maybe Anthony's talking AT him. I bet the Indian boy doesn't understand anything he's chattering about. The Indian boy is staring at Anthony the way guys at his daddy's gym stare at him. He reminds me of a cat . . . all quiet and still . . . just waiting to pounce! "Juanitooooo . . ." Anthony's doing his `cute eyes' at me, which means he wants something. But he really does look cute . . . "Why don't we show him your room?" I think of Mo talking with the older Indian boy. "Sure! We can do that!" We each grab one of the cute Indian boy's hands and take him up to my room. ******** We're all around the patio table . . . it's quite the spread! Mr. Flores grilled some chicken, with some kind of TexMex rub, and there's salad and corn on the cob and pink beans and green beans and tortillas. The food is delicious, and everyone's done crying. (What was that all about, anyway? Juanito AND Uncle Farheen? I'm totally clueless!) Bilal looks like a cat in cream. I have no idea what's making him preen like that. Why does that kid piss me off? Then I see him exchange a smirk with Anthony, who glances over at Juanito, who flicks his eyes towards Bilal, then grins back at Anthony. Anthony! Oh my god. That little whore is un-fucking-believable. Aunt Nuria is saying something about taking her boys shopping for clothes. Bilal chimes in, Did I just hear the little fucker right?! Ahmad winces and stares down at his plate. Aunt Nuria purses her lips but doesn't say anything. Yeah, I heard him right. Enough of this shit! I speak straight across the table at Bilal, in Urdu so he doesn't miss my meaning, even though my Urdu is crap. Bilal's jaw drops, and his face flushes, but his eyes dart guiltily towards his father, and he doesn't sass me back. Ahmad is still looking down at his plate, but I think I see his mouth twitch into a tiny smile. ******** There's some sort of tension around the dinner table that I'm not getting. I look over at Azim and raise my eyebrows in a sort of question. He just rolls his eyes and gives a slight shake of the head. The moment passes. I'm sitting next to Azim's brother, doing my best to carry on a conversation, but his English is pretty basic. Still, I've got my hand resting on his thigh, under the table, and he's not pushing it off. His leg is bouncing up and down a little, like he's nervous, but his wife's at the other end of the table with Zainab, and the only one who can see what my hand is up to is Mo, on his other side, who isn't about to clock me. What is the guy's name? Fahid? Faheen? Farheen? That sounds right! I think it's Farheen. He looks a lot like Azim, but with a salt and pepper beard instead of snow white . . . a little taller, a bit less weight. The resemblance fucking turns me on. My lover's brother . . . that's hot. I've never done two brothers . . . well, except my own sons, of course . . . and here's Farheen and Azim . . . and maybe the two nephews as well! I'm getting a boner as I work through the possible combinations. Azim says his brother used to take dick and like it, when he was a lot younger . . . and there's something about the signals he's sending that makes me think he'd still like it. I start rubbing my hand on his thigh, and he shivers. I squeeze his quads . . . there's some meat there but not a lot of tone. I slide my hand closer to the gold and squeeze again. One more slide, one more squeeze, and I've got my hand on his cock . . . well, his pants, but his cock is in his pants, and it wants out in the worst way. He feels about the same size as Azim. I wonder if he tastes the same . . . When it's time for me to bring out dessert I have to discreetly tuck my own cock up into my waistband, so I don't put on a show. Once we're all done and a collective food coma is setting in, I murmur to Azim, "I thought I'd show your brother the basement. Want to join us?" He goes to talk with his brother, who excuses himself to the bathroom and then comes back, looking way too nervous for a simple basement tour. So, Azim has prepped him, and he's coming anyway . . . excellent! I lead the way down the stairs, and Azim locks the door behind us. At the bottom of the stair, I pull my lover into a kiss. We make out a little, grinding against each other, hands digging under clothing, putting on a show for baby brother. I unbutton my shirt, deliberately turning to face Farheen so he can see my hairy chest coming into view, button by button. I let the shirt hang open a moment, then shuck it off and toss it aside. I've got cowboy boots on, so I can't get out of my jeans quite so easily. At least I can unbutton the waistband. Azim is already down to his boxers. Farheen is fidgeting nervously, still fully clothed, his pants seriously tenting. He keeps reaching for his cock, then pulling back his hand. Azim kneels in front of me, pulls my jeans open, and starts sucking my cock. My honey's mouth still feels great, after all these years. I look Farheen straight in the eye and smile. Then I grab Azim's head and start facefucking him. I reach over and unzip Farheen's pants, burrow my hand inside, give his cock a couple strokes, then go back to facefucking his older brother. Farheen grabs his cock and strokes it as he watches us go at it. I lift my honey up and kiss him again, our hairy chests rubbing against each other. This time I kneel, pull Azim's boxers off and take his cock in my mouth. He facefucks me just as hard as I did him . . . harder, even . . . it's a real skullfuck and it fucking turns me on. I feel something warm on my left . . . Farheen has gotten closer, is standing right next to me. I pull off Azim and go down on Farheen. He tastes different from his brother . . . more acrid, a little sour . . . but there's still something of the spices and sandalwood that I love smelling on Azim. I hear something and flick my eyes upward. The brothers are kissing . . . making out. There is some serious tongue action going on between those two bushy beards! I switch back and forth between the two cocks, pausing to wet my fingers. Before long I have a finger up each butt . . . then two in Azim, then three . . . I'm fingerbanging Azim with one hand while my other is stalled out . . . Farheen's pussy is so tight it's strangling my middle finger. I probe and twist till I find his prostate, then gently rub it. I'm rewarded with a moan above my head and a tasty spurt of precum in my mouth. I grab Farheen's hips and spin him around, pushing his back down so his ass pops out. Azim grabs his brother's hands and leads him forward a few steps, so Azim can sit on the edge of the big bed with his cock strategically close to Farheen's mouth. I jam my face into Farheen's butt, and when he gasps, Azim guides baby brother's open mouth onto his cock. I get into some serious tongue action on that hairy daddy hole, and Farheen is doing some serious moaning around his brother's cock. I'm so fucking turned on, eating out his pussy, it's all I can do not to stand up and jam my cock in his cunt . . . just slam it in there and fuck the shit out of his Indian daddy ass! Instead, I do the decent human being thing and lick his hole, and drive my tongue into it, and slide a lubed-up finger inside him, and make it two fingers, and then three . . . gradually opening him up so that, by the time I do jam my cock in his cunt, he's ready to take it, physically and mentally! So, with three fingers in his pussy, and my cock leaking a stream of pre onto the basement floor, it's time to fuck. I lube up my cock, get into position, and push it in. I find the strength somewhere not to slam it straight in . . . but even with a slow press he still gasps and makes a noise that I can only describe as a guy in pain trying to sound butch. His cunt is warm and tight on my cock, and I'm totally getting off on being the first cock in there in three decades. Azim is fucking his face now, and Farheen's gagging and choking, which makes his pussy spasm, which, conveniently, opens it up for my cock. I start fucking his cunt, not too hard, and he keeps spasming, and it feels fucking fantastic on my cock. I pick up the pace, just a little, and he's groaning and whining, but he's pushing his ass back against my cock now, and his hands have grabbed Azim's hips and are pulling them against his face. I stare into Azim's face as we spitroast his baby brother, and it's like we're silently egging each other on to fuck him harder and harder. We're watching each other's faces, gauging how close we're getting, making micro-adjustments as we engineer a simultaneous orgasm. When it comes, I watch Azim's face contort as he holds his brother down on his cock and blows down his throat. I'm sure my face is doing something similar as I give five hard thrusts in a row and unload in his brother's ass. I reach under Farheen to beat him off . . . fair is fair! . . . and find his cock is twitching and already softening as it spits out its last few spurts onto the cum-soaked floor. We kiss him and pet him and make sure he's okay before we all straighten up and sponge off and make ourselves presentable . . . and rejoin his family. ******** I'm getting ready for bed, just about to strip off my briefs and fall in for the night, when there's a quiet knock on my door. It's Ahmad, in shorts and a t-shirt. He salaams respectfully and then addresses me, speaking quietly, his eyes not meeting mine. "Cousin Mohammed, I want thank you because you speaking tonight. I am . . . um . . . very happy you speaking. Most of time, only Bilal speaking. Thank you, cousin." "Oh Ahmad, I am so sorry no one else in your family stands up for you! There's no excuse for your brother talking like that. It was incredibly disrespectful!" His eyes flick up and look into mine, and he gives me a shy smile. "Thank you." I decide to take a risk. "Ahmad . . . I wanted to ask . . . are you into buttfucking . . . um . . . 'buggering'? You know, I really love it! If that's something you like, I'd love to do it with you." He freezes. His eyes flick back down. Then, slowly, he turns around, drops his shorts, and leans his elbows on my desk, presenting a really pretty teenage butt . . . plump, smooth, golden brown. There's a little whorl of hair right at the top of the crack, and a pretty decent dusting of hair on his legs. But his body language is all tense. Something's off . . . I caress his back and lean over so he can see my face. "Not like that. Come lie with me on the bed." I step out of my briefs and pull him upright, so we're face to face. I give him a little kiss on the lips and hug him. Then I just stand there, holding him. He's so stiff . . . you'd think he was terrified or something! I pull his shirt off, and he raises his hands to help me, which I take as a good sign. I lead my naked cousin to my bed, where I sprawl, face up, legs spread, smiling up at him. He gets a good look at my dick. His eyes go comically wide. Yeah, it's big. I know. And it's hard, thanks to YOU! His own dick is hard . . . it's a respectable size, especially for a 16-year-old, but he keeps trying to hide it with his hands. "Hey Ahmad, relax! Just come and lie with me." I pat the bed next to me, and he sits. I run my hands over his body, lightly caressing it. I brush my thumb across his lips, and they part slightly. I lean in and kiss him, lightly at first, then more firmly. He finally starts to loosen up, and eventually he lies down next to me. I caress his dick, then stroke it, and he gasps as though he's never felt another person's hand on it. I'm getting hornier and hornier, wanting to get in his ass, but also really enjoying the foreplay. I crawl on top of him and rub my body against his, my rigid dick catching on his rigid dick. It feels fucking amazing! He's not lean like Juanito . . . there's some baby fat on him (at sixteen!) but his body feels welcoming. Finally, I can't stand it anymore, and I roll him over and bury my face in his plump brown butt. He gasps. He squeals. He literally squeals! He's thrashing around and humping the bed as my tongue goes to town on his hole. That's a phrase I know! Though Baba says it in English these days more often than Urdu. I grab one of the four bottles of lube that happen to be sitting on my bedside table and slide a slick finger into his pussy. Easy peasy! I'm rewarded with a huge moan. I add a second finger . . . this one needs a little more care, but he opens up quickly enough. I add a third, very slowly and carefully, and he whimpers ambiguously. I'm too horned up to ask if he wants to stop . . . and I'm pretty sure the answer would be `keep going!' So I keep going! He's on his back now, legs to his chest. My lubed dick is poised at his hole, teasing his pussy lips. One little nudge and I'll pop in. Instead of nudging, I press . . . gently, slowly . . . and I feel his pussy lips expand and welcome my dick. Ahmad lets out a long, extended groan as I slide into him. I wrap my arms around him and pull him close, and hug him as I slowly penetrate him, pushing deeper and deeper into his pussy till my full length is buried in him. I watch his face the whole time, making sure he's okay . . . well, the whole time except when I'm kissing him. I can feel the tip of my dick teasing open something inside him, and he gasps as I push in that last inch or two. I fuck him slow and tender. I'll be back in this ass another time. for sure, and I can fuck the shit out of him then. For now, I want Ahmad to know what making love feels like. He moans, and gasps, and whimpers, and clutches my back. I feel his body shaking. It just makes me want to fuck him more. Finally, I reach the tipping point and blow in his ass, and he groans again as he feels me filling him up. It's a quiet groan, but it lasts a long time, likes he's breathing out years' worth of whatever he's been holding inside. I keep my cock in him, hugging him and gently rocking my hips till I soften and finally plop out. I lick his pussy clean . . . more moaning . . . and go back to hugging him. His body continues to shake. He's crying. Ahmad is literally crying. I'm going to go with 'tears of joy' as the explanation . . . and the way he's hugging me, I think it's legit. He's still rock hard, so I stroke it again. My pussy twitches . . . it's been a minute. "Hey Ahmad, would you like to fuck . . . bugger me?" He looks flustered. "I am not doing that." "Oh . . . well . . . okay, I guess. You mean you don't enjoy topping? You don't like doing the fucking, you just want to get fucked?" "Uh . . . " He switches to Urdu. "Got it!" I look at him, trying to read the signals. "Do you want to give it a try?" I helpfully put my finger on the scale, flipping over on all fours and waggling my butt suggestively in his direction. He reaches out, hesitantly, and strokes my butt. He runs a finger down my buttcrack. It makes me shiver. I toss him some lube. He lubes up my hole and slides a tentative finger inside me. I feel him moving into position behind me, his finger still in my hole. It's replaced with a teen dick, which starts to move, in and out. For someone topping for literally the first time, his moves are impressive. I guess he's empathetic enough to make connections between what he likes as a bottom and what he does as a top. Smart boy! It feels great, but he doesn't last long. When he blows, it's like a great exhalation, all the tension draining from his body. I'm in no hurry to see him go, so I keep him there, hugging and kissing as the minutes trickle by. After we're kissed out, I still hold him, and we lie there, sharing a pillow, looking straight in each other's eyes, our noses just inches apart. He looks like he has something he wants to say, and eventually it comes pouring out. "Ahmad, you totally deserve this. You need to find someone who loves you AND respects you. I bet you can find that in India, but you should think about doing what my baba did and come to America. And wherever you are . . . Fuck shame! If you love it up the ass, then take it up the ass and be proud! Don't ever apologize for who you are. And if you want to fuck someone, and they're up for it . . . go for it! Sex is fun, and it's more fun with less hangups. And besides that . . . you're a great guy. Anyone would be lucky to have you in their bed . . . and in their life!" I figure that's enough heavy talk for one night, and we go back to cuddling. We nearly fall asleep that way before he heads back to his room. ******** Zainab says she will take Nuria shopping on Saturday. My wife agrees to do this as a favor to me, but she complains that she had promised to spend the day with her girlfriend. She frowns and tells me that I `owe her'. But then, she and Nuria spend Friday evening together, and in no time, they are laughing and chattering. Zainab is like a different person! The next day, when it is time for their shopping expedition, she tells me that they are picking up Casey, and we should not expect them back till very late. So after our lunch has settled, Mo unlocks the little outdoor playroom, and I lead my brother and my nephews inside. My son goes to invite Jorge and the boys to join us if they would like. I direct Ahmad and Bilal in hanging the sling in the pergola. Ahmad's eyes become wide when he sees it. Bilal does not seem to understand what it is for until it is fully installed. Then his eyes, too, become wide. It takes a great deal of persuading over many days before Farheen agrees to do sexplay in a group, with his sons included. But after Jorge and I give him the spitroast a second time, and he spends two hours alone with Ahmad in Jorge's basement, he consents. Ahmad is immediately excited. It is so lovely to see him coming out of his shell! Bilal seems suspicious . . . perhaps he cannot imagine himself buggering hairy old men? . . . but he agrees to take part anyway. As we are setting out the bottles of lube and a pile of old towels, my sweet Juanito comes running across the lawn, pulling off his t-shirt and kicking off his sandals as he runs. He gives me a big hug and a kiss and begs for me to bugger him. ******** Mr. Azharuddin is giving me a really nice fuck in the outdoor sling. The sky is blue, and it's really hot but not, like, really REALLY hot, and it's a lot less humid than it sometimes gets. But he's still got sweat running down his face and into his Indian Raccoon Santa Claus beard, and he's staring straight into my eyes and smiling at me, just like he always does when he fucks me, and I feel all safe and happy. His brother, the other Mr. Azharuddin . . . the one who's visiting from India but not for much longer? . . . comes up next to Mr. Azharuddin. He looks a lot like Mr. Azharuddin, but his beard is still black, with just streaks of white, and the circles around his eyes aren't as dark. I think he's more like a skunk than a raccoon . . . but not in a bad way! I LIKE skunks! And he doesn't smell like a skunk . . . he smells just fine . . . though not as nice as Mr. Azharuddin, who always smells particularly nice. It occurs to me (I love the word `occurs' . . . it sounds so high class!) that if I want Other Mr. Azharuddin to fuck me, I'd better make sure it happens today, because it hasn't happened yet, and I don't know if I'll have another chance again before he goes. I aks Mr. Azharuddin . . . the one who's fucking me, "Would it be okay with you if you and the other Mr. Azharuddin take turns fucking me? I think that would be really really fun!" He says something to his brother in Indian* *[Editor's note: Azim said to Farheen: ] . . . and Other Mr. Azharuddin sorta shoves him, but playfully, like he's protesting but not really, and then he unzips his pants and starts stroking his cock. Mr. Azharuddin pulls out and Other Mr. Azharuddin pushes in, and they take turns fucking my butt, back and forth and back and forth. Other Mr. Azharuddin is rougher, and after he fucks me rough the first time, Mr. Azharuddin is extra gentle when he slides into me, but then Other Mr. Azharuddin is just as rough the next time he fucks me, and so Mr. Azharuddin is even ROUGHER when he fucks me, and then Other Mr. Azharuddin fucks me even HARDER, and before long, both of them are totally `pounding my pussy', and I'm SOOOOOOOOO happy! They both start huffing and puffing and have to take a break before they breed my butt, but I'm really happy anyway. It's still early . . . someone else will breed my butt later . . . and that was a GREAT fuck! I thank them politely and stay in the sling, hoping someone else will come along. And someone else does! It's Mo's cousin . . . the younger one . . . Billy, or something? . . . the one who's like a cat? Who's really cute and fucked me and Anthony in my room that day Papi made dinner outside? (That was so much fun . . . we both just pulled down our pants and got on our knees on the edge of the bed without even having to say anything, and he stuck his cock in us and fucked us both, really quick and really hard, and cummed in us five times before we had to go to the table for dinner!) Billy comes up and sticks a finger in my butt, then he pulls down his shorts, and his cock is already hard, and he sticks it in my hole without any lube, but that's okay `cause I have lots of lube in my hole already, and I'm open enough already `cause his dick is a lot smaller than his daddy's or his uncle's. Billy likes to fuck really hard and fast . . . `rabbit fucking' Papi calls it . . . and Billy rabbit fucks me even though I'm not a rabbit and he's actually a cat. Sometimes his cock pokes me a little too much, but mostly it's exciting . . . and he is really cute, though not as handsome as Mo. He grunts, three times in a row, and I feel his cock jump inside me . . . first load of the afternoon! Then he goes back to rabbit fucking, and I relax in the sling and enjoy watching him fuck me. ******** My little brother's being a sling hog, but Papi hooks up another sling in the playshed, and Mo and I get his cousin set up in it . . . Ahmad, the older one. The interesting one! I've really enjoyed getting to know him these past couple of weeks. Bilal's closer in age to me, but I feel a lot more connection with Ahmad. He comes off as shy, but once he gets comfortable with you, it turns out he's really smart and observant, and he's willing to tell you what he thinks . . . in a nice way, but really direct. AND he's a good fuck! As soon as Mo told me that he was up for sex, I invited him up to my bedroom, and we had a really great time. He's super quiet when he cums, which is a little weird, but he's a natural top and really considerate . . . and he's getting better at bottoming (and he's really happy to practice both topping and bottoming . . . like, every day . . . so that's what we've been doing!) So today, Mo and I start with him in the sling, and we trade off fucking him, and whoever isn't in his butt is, like, kissing him or sucking him or sticking dick in his mouth. Ahmad is quiet when you fuck him . . . he moans a lot, but softly . . . but he's still really responsive. You just have to, like, tune in a little closer to catch the response. After a while, Mo takes a turn in the sling, and Ahmad and I are fucking him, and then it's my turn to bottom. Both their cocks feel really great, even though they're so different. And Bilal wanders up and joins us, and Mo excuses himself to check on Juanito, and the two brothers take turns fucking me. We ask Bilal if he wants a turn in the sling, and he says no, so Ahmad gets back in the sling, and Bilal and I trade off fucking him. Ahmad and Bilal and Mo all feel kinda different when they fuck . . . like, Ahmad really pays attention to how you react, and if you seem to like something you get a lot more of it, and Bilal just pounds away really fast and hard . . . but he's young, he'll learn . . . and Mo has that huge cock and likes to get in deep and really push your limits. It's so great having one after the other after the other after the other! ******** "Hey Big Guy! You having a good time?" Juanito looks up at me from the outside sling, and his eyes light up, but there's a little undercurrent of sadness that I don't understand. Maybe he's just cluing in to all the free-floating anxiety that seems to be in the air these days? "Yeah! Mr. Azharuddin fucked me, and so did Other Mr. Azharuddin, and so did Billy." "Billy? Who? Oh! It's `Bilal', big guy." "Ok, Bilal. Are you gonna fuck me now?" The answer was always `yes', of course, but hearing the yearning in his voice, it comes out, "Of COURSE I'm going to fuck you, sweetheart!" And after I kiss him, and tenderly eat out his juicy little pussy, and lick and suck his little dick and balls, that's exactly what I do. ******** The children are using both the slings, so Jorge pulls the horse out of the playroom and sets it up on the patio, in the shade of the pergola. He removes his clothes and mounts it. His arsehole looks incredible . . . so tempting! How surprising it is that Farheen and I are both taking the active role today, first with the boy and now with his father! Farheen is still unwilling to put his tongue in an arsehole, so I kneel behind the horse and kiss and lick my lover's beautiful hole, while my brother puts his prick in my lover's beautiful mouth. Then Farheen comes and presses his prick into Jorge's hole, and I press my tongue into my brother's hole, feeling his hairy arse rubbing my face as he buggers my lover. I give Jorge my prick to suck, and when it is slick, I return to my brother and press it into his hairy arse, so that my brother is sandwiched between us. As I thrust into him, he stills his own motion and allows me to thrust him into Jorge's arse. I have noticed that Farheen loses interest in sex after he climaxes, so I do not want him to climax too quickly. I pull out of his arse and watch him bugger Jorge, then draw him out of Jorge's arse, and pat my lover's arse as a signal for him to stand up and give his place to Farheen. Farheen mounts the horse, and Jorge buggers him with enthusiasm, while I do the same to his mouth. Later, it is my turn on the horse. It is very satisfying to receive the spitroast . . . to take a prick back and front at the same time! ******** It's a hell of a sendoff for Azim's brother. We end the afternoon with Farheen in the sling, blindfolded, taking dick from everyone . . . me, his brother, his nephew, both his sons, my older son . . . with no idea whose cock is whose. He moans loudest with Mo, of course . . . `cause who doesn't like a big ole cock? . . . but he moans almost as loud when his own son . . . Ahmad, the older one . . . is plowing his ass. That's a good sign! The only one who doesn't get in his cunt is Juanito. It's iffy whether he would even have tried . . . he's self-conscious that his pipi is so small . . . but by the time it would have been his turn, let's just say he was occupied. He had his face buried in Azim's pussy and Mo's big cock buried in his own pussy, and he was basically overstimulated to the point of incoherence. I wasn't about to disturb him. I just went back for super sloppy seconds . . . Farheen's cunt was literally dripping cum . . . slurping up as much as I could . . . using the rest for lube. It's so fucking hot, me fucking someone who's so much like Azim but isn't Azim . . . and doing it after both his teen sons have bred their dad! Fuuuuuuuck. We're sending him back to India with a stretched-out pussy and a whole new perspective on life . . . I hope he can make the most of both of them! ******** A few days after Uncle Farheen and Aunt Nuria fly back to India, we do a Fourth of July party. It's sort of a `coming out' thing for my cousins . . . their first sex party that isn't mostly family. The Phams are the first to arrive, one o'clock, right on the dot . . . military precision, I suppose. Little Anthony looks around the backyard and frowns. "Where's your boyfriend?" I'm perplexed. "Who?" "The muscley college boy you brought to Daddy's gym! I want him to fuck me again! AND I wanna fist him again!" "Wait, WHAT? Tyler fucked you? When the fuck did he do that?" Little Anthony stares at me like I'm a moron. "At Daddy's gym! DUH!" "Well, he's not coming today." "Why not?!" "Because I didn't invite him!" Anthony looks outraged. He literally stamps his foot. "You didn't INVITE him?!" I'm annoyed . . . at Anthony, a little, but mostly at Tyler. (Actually, Anthony's outrage is kind of cute . . . especially the stamping-his-foot part . . . but I'm still annoyed enough to lay on the sarcasm.) "Well, he didn't TELL me that he fucks little boys, so I didn't INVITE him to a party where we're FUCKING LITTLE BOYS!" "I'M not a little boy! I'm already TEN!" This is getting out of control. I throw up my hands. "I will invite him NEXT TIME. Now get your sassy TEN-year-old ASS in the sling so I can FUCK IT!" Anthony glares at me . . . then suddenly smiles sweetly and says, "Yes sir!" ******** It's a hell of a party! The weather stays unseasonably mild, so we set up the outdoor playspace as well as the basement playroom. Manny and Juanito help with all the setup, and Manny even fucks his brother in the outdoor sling before the guests arrive . . . `to make sure the sling is at the right height'. Uh huh. I decide I need to check if the sling is at the right height for an adult who's fucking . . . and it is. My little puto then licks both our cocks clean so we're ready for our guests. Starting the party with boy pussy puts me in a certain frame of mind. I methodically fuck my way through all my underage guests . . . Anthony Pham in the outdoor sling, after Mo has left his pussy gaping . . . Kai LaFontaine on the big fuck bed in the basement, as his father looks on, stroking his fat hog (which he shoves up my ass before I'm even finished fucking his gorgeous little boy) . . . Elijah White, bent over by the snack table, my hands on his shoulders, my hips bouncing off his skater's butt . . . Ahmad Azharuddin in a sling in the basement, just after Marty Anderson breeds him and just before Amos White stretches his poor pussy to hell. (Ahmad's usually so quiet, but when that huge black cock is rearranging his guts you can hear him screaming through the whole basement. But then, every time Amos tries to pull out and give the boy's pussy a break, Ahmad grabs his hips and pulls him back inside.) I do Juanito again, a quick fuck on the big bed, right before he gets it from Yael Mizrahi, the drop-dead-gorgeous new masseur at Cuong's gym, and right after he gets it from a guy that Cuong brought with him . . . older guy, great ass, nice cock. Cuong introduces him as an ice skating coach . . . which means he's the guy that took Elijah's cherry, I'll bet. Anyway, Juanito seems to enjoy the new guy's cock, and I use his load as lube when I fuck my putito for the second . . . third? . . . fourth! . . . time today. Bilal Azharuddin doesn't get fucked . . . at least, not in public, or maybe not in public quite yet. Manny says he's gotten in there twice already . . . so I make do with eating his ass as Anthony sucks his cock. Manny takes my cock AND Dr. J's at the same time . . . and after Dr. J pulls out, David Vasquez slides in and we DP my boy for another quarter of an hour while Dr. J fucks David's ass. Finally, I fuck Buddy Anderson on all fours under the tree in the middle of the back yard, right after Perro Pedro's knot finally pops out of the boy's gaping cunt. Juanito has been putting a lot of effort into training his mutt, and he showed off for us all a couple of days ago . . . making out with his new best friend, sucking his doggy's dick as we all watched and stroked ourselves, then squealing as Perro Pedro jackhammered his pussy. Nice to see how well the old dog's learning his new tricks! When I'm not fucking boy pussy I'm taking it up the ass . . . Reggie LaFontaine, Amos, Marty, Ernie, Azim, Mo, Manny . . . I'm almost as big a whore at this party as Juanito! I make sure that Yael Mizrahi fucks me face to face . . . God DAMN what a gorgeous hunk of man! . . . and I get a decent half-hard fuck from the skating coach, who's too old to cum four times in one evening . . . but his cock still feels pretty good. Dr. J and David take turns on me, and when they're done, young Bilal comes and fucks my tired pussy. He's beginning to learn some technique . . . a little variety, some pacing . . . not everything all BAM BAM BAM all the time. When my cock and my cunt are both worn out, I go punch fuck Cuong Pham, who was the first to arrive and looks like he might be the last to leave. ******** The party finally winds down around sunset. Mr. Flores is fisting Col. Pham in the garden shed playroom. Ahmad is on a blanket under a tree, cuddling with Buddy and Buddy's dad. Bilal is slowly fucking Baba in the sling, but he's lying on Baba's belly as he fucks, half asleep. Baba's hands are stroking his back, hugging my cousin against him. I'm wiped . . . I'm ready to hit the hay no matter how early the clock thinks it is. I'm stretching and yawning, about to head inside, when Juanito lays his hand on my arm and looks up at me. His voice sounds oddly tremulous. "Mo . . . Manny's having a party for his birthday in a couple weeks . . . a party with lots of fucking . . . and you're invited, and your b . . . b . . . boyfriend can come too . . . if . . . if you want him to." His lower lip is trembling, and his eyes are glistening like an anime heroine. I'm too exhausted to have any clue what he's talking about. "Uh, who do you mean, big guy? I don't have a boyfriend . . . at least, none that I know of!" Juanito doesn't laugh . . . which, I grant you, is a fair response to my lame attempt at humor. If anything, he looks even more tragic. "I mean T . . . T . . . Tyler." I look at him . . . at the tremulous lip, at the big, tragic, tear-filled eyes gazing plaintively up at me . . . and my tired mind snaps into focus. It's like I instantly realize several things . . . important things . . . things about Juanito and things about myself . . . things that I somehow, blindly, had never quite understood till this moment. I gather my sweetie up in my arms and hug him tight. "Oh . . . baby . . . oh, sweetheart. Tyler's not my boyfriend. He's just a buddy. He's not special to me like you are. No one is special to me like you are. You're my big guy . . . my special guy . . . my only special guy." "Bu. . . but he's so big and strong, and I'm so y . . . young!" I pull away just enough to look him in the eye. "But you're Juanito. That matters more than whether you're young or old or big or little . . .or how strong you are, or anything else! You . . . YOU . . . are my special guy!" He peers up at me, still tentative, then throws his arms around me and hugs me with all his might. I hug him back, with all my heart.