Date: Mon, 03 Jan 2000 23:49:38 PST From: Robert J. Cutter Subject: "MY MELANCHOLY DANE - Chapter 3 (Man/Boy/Interracial/Incest) Disclaimer: The following is a boy love story. It is also interracial and incestuous in nature. It is a work of fiction; all characters are fictitious as are all situations. Author's Note: Please take a minute to e-mail me any comments you have about this story. I appreciate anything that you, the reader, have to say; this is my only way of knowing what kind of job I'm doing and if they are worthwhile. I am at: cutter57@hotmail.com. Please include /RJC57/ on the subject line of the e-mail and I will answer all. Thanks. MY MELANCHOLY DANE ------------------------------ Copyright (c) 2000 by Robert J. Cutter - All Rights Reserved The author retains all rights to this story. It is not permissible to distribute it to any newsgroups and/or other web sites without the express written consent and permission of the author. Chapter 3 - My Angel Arises When I awoke the room was completely dark. For a moment I really didn't know where I was. Then I felt a luxurious body stretched out on top of me and I knew I knew it was Simon - my Simon, my wonderful, beautiful, breathtaking Simon. I felt the boy stir a little; it felt so marvelous against my body. It was so gentle, and erotic - the feel of this exquisite boy sent wave after wave of pleasure and serenity - and lust - coursing through my entire body. It was so comforting - I could sense every part of his body as it lay on mine. I was relaxed but also quite extremely excited. I brought my hand up and lay it on his beautifully rounded butt cheeks and slowly stroked and petted them. His face was buried into my neck and I could feel his hot breath every time he exhaled. The slow repetitive pattern was both calming and agitating. It was great. I was slowly being tortured and soothed simultaneously. I don't know how long we remained this way. When Simon began to stir I turned on the small lamp by the bed and looked at his angelic face. Angelic was a total and complete understatement - Simon was the epitome of boyhood beauty. His beauty would have inspired Renaissance and Baroque painters to heights of rapture and they would have created masterpiece after masterpiece forever making permanent Simon's unique beauty. I knew for sure that his exquisite beauty was most definitely inspiring this artist. At that moment I knew my fate; I knew that my duty in this life was to capture Simon as best my talents would permit. I felt humble in the face of such surpassing magnificence. But I knew my fate and I accepted it ompletely. "Simon?" I was speaking quietly and slowly, and to my great surprise, quite shyly. "Simon, can I.can I, you know, have your permission to...you know, to touch and kiss you...and your absolutely magnificent...fabulous body...uh...now?" "Of course, uncle." He gave out a beautiful chuckle. It took my breath away by its carefree attitude and lilting quality. "Absolutely! That is why mama has sent me here to be with you." I was absolutely flabbergasted at his last comment. My jaw sagged and from the look on his face I could see that he was surprised at my reaction. "What's wrong uncle?" "You said your mama, my sister, sent you here to be with me so that we...we could be...together?" "Yes, uncle. Do you not know that?" I shook my head very slightly. "No," I said in a low voice. "Why should that surprise you, uncle? Mama knows that you are very lonely here in America and that I am lonely also in Germany. I think she had a very good idea. Do you not also think so?" I looked up and smiled at him; he smiled right back. "I think she had an absolutely marvelous idea." I leaned over and kissed him softly on his sensuous, laughing lips. "And the story of you having trouble in school and with the authorities..." "Not all was true. Yes, I did have some trouble in school." He hesitated slightly and looked away from me. "One of the older teachers seemed to be in love with me and was making movements towards me. But that was all and he was disciplined; that was the end of the situation." "I see," I said still slightly stupefied. "So why did Maria decide to send you to America?" "It was my decision, uncle. I wanted to come here to America and to be with you." "You wanted to live with me?" I was flabbergasted! "Why?" "I thought it would be great fun," he said, giving me a great big smile. "Also, when I see pictures of you that momma showed and I knew you were so handsome and I knew in myself that I wanted to be with you and to live with you here in America. I also remember when you visited last to Germany and how much fun we had together." We smiled at each other and I moved to wrap my arms around his beautiful and thoroughly enticing body. He moved close to me and threw his arms around me. We held each other closely and tightly and kissed passionately. "This boy was sent to me," I kept thinking over and over again. "What an incredible gift. What a marvelous gift! That's what it is - a gift, and a gift that I must repay as best I know how." He lay back. I looked over at his naked body, stretched out, as it was, on his half of the bed. Simon was a thrilling sight - overwhelmingly beautiful and desirable. I began to sketch him on a pad I always carried with me. He seemed delighted and posed fetchingly. That face! That incredibly face! It was a miraculous combination of beauty and sweetness. Perfectly oval in shape, everything in flawless combination, Simon's face was a marvel of sensuality and wholesome boyishness. His blonde hair, cut relatively short on the sides and back, with long strands in the front to frame and highlight the incredible beauty. Those strands were graduated with the longest ones coming down to the middle of his cheeks. I just wanted to kiss each and every hair - he was so delicious. And the eyes! I realized that his eyes were not pure blue but had some gray in them. Those magnificent blue-gray eyes! They seemed to change color with the change in lighting and even with Simon's temperament - sometimes more blue, sometimes more gray. But always startling and always riveting - and totally alluring. They just sucked me in. Blonde-brown eyebrows, that were widely separated and almost straight, framed his eyes - they had very little curve to them, and were moderately thin. His eyelashes were blonde but did not give his eyes a washed out appearance as many blondes have. His beautiful slightly pug nose, rosy, incredibly sensuous full lips, the ideal size of his mouth, perfect chin and the sprinkling of beautiful freckles completed a face to die for - or rather, to live for. The proportions of his face were breathtaking - the size of his chin, the distance between his nose and lips, the fullness of his cheeks, the dimensions and shape of his ears. The face...the face of perfection, the face an artist craves to find. I busily sketched three wonderfully detailed examples of Simon's immaculately beauty face. I asked him for different expressions and he willingly and wonderfully complied. What a perfect model he was going to be; I knew it!. I then did four sketches of his magnificent body; the word magnificent does not begin to do him justice. I only hope that I can accomplish in my art what I cannot possibly do in writing. That is why I became an artist and not a writer. Simon's faultless neck led to his magnificent body - an epitome of boyhood beauty. I will freely admit that I may be overstating the qualities and scope of his raging beauty because I was so much in love with him. But these truths are not overly exaggerated or intentional. This body that must be preserved for all time. The slimness of his arms, the incredibly taper of his thighs, the beautiful lower legs, the evenness of his magnificent torso - each part put together to create a creature of consummate glory. A light sprinkling of beautiful blonde hair on his lower legs and arms added to the fabulous allure of this splendid creature, my most wonderful Simon. And then, of course, there were his magnificent genitals - that wonderful package that drew me to him with tremendous lust and unqualified longing. They were so stunning, so inviting and so ready to be loved. I put down my sketchpad and kissed my Simon. It was delicate and I slowly ran my hand down the side of his body during the kiss. I could feel Simon beginning to breath more and more deeply - and so was I. I brought my hand gradually back up his body, dragging it across his chest until it was resting on his nipples. I rubbed my palm over his glorious little nipple and felt the little point grazing my hand. I looked at his face again and it brought tears to my eyes. I was so unbelievably happy! He was so incredibly beautiful and loving. He gave me the softest smile and brought one finger to his lips and kissed it. He slowly moved the finger to my lips and I also kissed it. I opened my lips and slowly drew that lovely finger into my mouth and gently began to suck on it. What a divine feeling - what a glorious thrill. I sucked harder and Simon began to groan a little. While sucking on his finger I continued to work my hand over his magnificent, erect nipples and luxuriated in the feel of his magnificent chest. I continued to move my hand down until I was stoking his velvet soft thighs. It was truly glorious. The skin of those thighs could not have been softer and more luxurious to the touch. I thought my brain would short-circuit trying to assimilate the myriad of new sensations being sent to it at such a steady rate. I looked down at his little penis straining and twitching so invitingly. I knew I could not ignore it too much longer. But first I wanted to taste more of his luscious and alluring skin - that skin, which seemed to give off a power and radiance of its own. I lowered my head and delicately and slowly began to lick the creamy skin of his thighs. I could feel the muscles beneath - those wonderfully as yet undeveloped young boy muscles. He tasted fantastic - and my tongue luxuriated in the marvelous use it was being put to. It was all so exciting. I could feel my cock moving over his lower legs; I knew I was coating the kid with my pre-cum. I breathlessly worked my way up his inner thighs. The closer I got to his delightful boy equipment the wider he spread his legs, until I was able to see his gorgeous little opening. I picked my head up to get a complete view and I was awestruck. This most private of areas was beautiful beyond reasonable belief. The smoothness, the roundness, the seeming perfection of it all was sorely trying my capacity for rational thought. I moved one hand until it was gently stroking his thighs and leisurely moved it to the area of my fascination. When I reached his butt, I let one finger lovingly and lingeringly play on his crack as I moved my mouth to his crotch. The area above his most inviting genitals was beautiful - so inviting and so tantalizing. I nuzzled and kissed the delicious, smooth, delightfully rounded mound above his dick. I let my tongue lap at this most marvelous skin. It was so enjoyable, so velvety, had such a wonderful taste, that I thought I would never leave. But I did leave, and slowly brought my mouth to the head of his absolutely exquisite and straining dick. I kissed it and licked it all over. Simon was going absolutely crazy but still I continued. I took the covered head into my mouth and sucked on it very gently. His rather long foreskin began to retract but continued to cover the target of my quest. I let his boy dick slip from my mouth and with my other hand I gently and unerringly peeled back that luscious piece of intact flesh. The head was pink, beautifully shaped and just magnificent. His slit was quite small and so incredibly cute. Simon's dick was absolutely everything I knew it would be. I blew a warm stream of my breath over the head and Simon reacted as I had hoped he would; his body began to shake and he babbled something in German. I was delighted to see him behaving so uncontrollably. It actually gave me a great thrill having him react so strongly to my lovemaking. I lowered my head and began to lick that superb little head. God! The taste was redolent of young boy and filled my mouth. I inhaled deeply to capture every single subtle essence of this marvelous boy, while continuing to work my tongue over that delicious piece of flesh. Simon was incredibly hard. God! The joys of being young. I slowly began to move down the shaft of his fabulous dick, bobbing my head, sucking and stroking everything with my tongue, until my lips reached that glorious mound again and touched his wonderful sac. The constant motion of my tongue seemed to be driving Simon bonkers. He was bucking and moaning and flailing his arms. I gently rubbed his ball bag and tried to grasp his little balls with my hand while sucking delicately on his dick. I could feel them floating around but I could not grasp them. I removed my mouth from his dick (I most certainly needed to return to it soon) and began to lick that scrumptious scrotum - that beautiful, endearing little ball bag. I felt myself getting extremely lightheaded as I first licked, then sucked and finally took Simon's entire sack into my mouth. It was a delight, a delight the likes of which I had never, ever known before - never experienced in my life - my very promiscuous life. I rolled his little balls around and around, delighting in their feel, their free-floating feel - and the taste and smell of his ball sac. God! What exquisite pleasure it gave me! What enormous pleasure Simon gave me! This marvelous boy was here with me - a gift, a generous sublime gift - and I knew we were destined to be with each other forever. Meanwhile, Simon was screaming his head off! He was making the most ungodly sounds. I thought it was just wonderful! To get this kind of reaction from him - from my wonderful, beautiful boy - was absolutely exhilarating. I took his dick in my mouth again and started sucking that gorgeous head again - that warm, luscious tasty head. I slowly let my mouth descend that shaft while continuing the sucking and licking. I brought one hand up to his beautiful ball sac and gently took hold. Between the sucking of his dick and the squeezing of his balls I knew Simon was ready to have his boy orgasm soon. His beautiful body started bucking and twisting - and the noises he was making! I was totally gratified - I adored everything about making love to this marvelous creature. I only hoped Simon was feeling good about it. Judging from his reactions, I was sure he was. He came with his dry boy orgasm and it was shattering. I was hard pressed to keep his fabulous equipment in my mouth while he gyrated on the bed. The noise was ear splitting! Simon was obviously have a magnificent time and the feel of his dick in my mouth - pushing and thrusting and growing and driving as far as it could possibly go - was overwhelming. I could never remember being so incredibly hot - and my reaction was demonstrated as I shot another big load, this time right onto parts of Simon's body and the bed. I released his dick quickly after his orgasm and flopped back on the bed. I was feeling so marvelous...and so grateful...and so loving...and loved...and so exhausted. After a few minutes of heavy breathing and settling down, Simon turned to me and gave me a big smile. He crawled into my arms and I cuddled him. He kissed me and I returned the pleasure. "That was incredible, uncle. It was the best...the very, very best. I love you." I became slightly teary eyed. "And I love you so much, my precious Simon. You are the best thing to ever happen to me." He snuggled closer and we held each other in a wonderful and comforting embrace. Suddenly Simon said that he was very hungry. I knew I was also feeling the need to eat. We cleaned up quickly, then dressed warmly and went out. Winter in Atlanta can be nasty and it certainly was that night - cold, windy and rainy. We found a small place that specialized in southern barbecued pork and went in. Simon loved it - this kid could not eat enough ribs. He also loved the side dishes - dirty rice, okra, coleslaw and black-eyed peas. Plus all the iced tea he could drink. We were both stuffed when we got out. We joked as we walked slowly back to the hotel. Simon seemed to be in a very good mood and so was I. When we got to the room, he asked, "What time are we going to be leaving tomorrow, uncle?" "Well, I figured we should get an early start and that way we'll be in New Orleans by late afternoon. And we'll be home - in my apartment and you'll be able to settle in. Then the next day I'll register you in school and we'll begin our life together as a family." Simon gave me a great smile when I said this last part. "That is wonderful, uncle. I can hardly wait!" Neither could I! ---------------------------------------- That night we slept comfortably together. I could not remember a better, more comfortable and thoroughly restful night sleep in my life. Simon clung to me and I clung to him. It was wonderful and so satisfying. The warmth and smoothness of his prepubescent body was a balm to my soul and made right anything that I had worried or fretted about. The next morning we packed, and were on the interstate by 6 AM. The drive was uneventful and pretty easy, except for some rain and Simon loathing the music on the radio. He simply hated country and most rap music. We stopped for breakfast and lunch in places just off the road, and at both we received some uncomfortable stares from the patrons; I sure the idea of a black man with a white kid was repugnant to them. I also think that my car was the only one in the parking lots - the rest were pickup trucks, festooned with gun raks. For a black man in this part of the south it was quite frightening. When we arrived in New Orleans it was raining, of course. The sky was very low and the general atmosphere of the place was one of overwhelming gloom. But I was happy; Simon was with me and he was so very excited about being home. He commented about everything - the flatness of the land, the big hotels, the torn up highways, the number of taxis, the Mississippi River, the Super Bowl, Lake Pontchartrain. When we arrived at the converted warehouse/factory that was my home he practically leaped from the car. He raised his arms, seemingly to embrace the building. He then wrapped his arms around his body smiling broadly all the time. I stood behind him and wrapped my arms around his beautiful and loving body. We stood that way for about five minute. I relished the feel of his body against mine. "This is so beautiful, uncle." "Beautiful? I've heard it called many things but never beautiful." "It is...it is! The beautiful shape of the building, the old bricks and windows. The old painted signs on the side. It is a dream...a real dream!" "Well, dream or not, it's home Simon. Your home and my home." "That adds to the beauty of it. I love it!" I was touched that he liked where I lived. I had had this terrible premonition that he would be appalled by the decrepitude of the building. "Well, enough rhapsodizing. Lets get our things inside because I have to return the car to my friend before tonight." We loaded all of our bags and all other paraphernalia into the freight elevator that serviced the entire building. I had the entire upper floor as my studio and living area. The lower floors were used by a warehousing company and a company that made tee shirts for any occasion. Simon was speechless when I unlocked the doors to my studio and turned on the lights. He let out a wonderfully loud boy shriek and ran into the enormous open space. He threw his arms out wide and spun around a few times, laughing all the time. "Uncle, this is magnificent! This is the most wonderful place I have ever seen or been in! Oh, God! It is fantastic!" I smiled at him. "I'm sorry you don't like it Simon. I don't know what I can do to make it better for you." "Stop making fun with me, uncle. I just love it! I really do!" He looked closer at the various places in the enormous room and then began to examine the works of my art that littered the place. "Yes, yes...hmmmm...beautiful...okay...ugh..." were some of the comments he made at the works that were visible. "I notice that you are also an art critic, Simon." He turned and smiled at me. "You have a lot of your works stacked up around here, don't you uncle?" "Unfortunately, yes. My works don't sell well, Simon. So I have lots of them around. In fact, I have just about all of them around here in one corner or another. I find I have to paint just like I have to eat and breathe. So things pile up." I lowered my head and became a little miserable. "Well, uncle, things will change now, right?" "What do you mean Simon?" "Well, I'm here with you. I will bring you a new inspiration and then all of your pictures will be sold." I smiled at him and spread my arms wide. He ran to me and I lifted him and swung him around in the air. He hugged me tightly and we kissed. I was so happy to have him here with me. I knew I would love having Simon living with me. As for bringing me new inspiration, I wondered how he realized that that was uppermost in my mind; that I had already decided that he would definitely be my main subject in the future. We unpacked his belongings. Well, unpacked is not quite the right word. Since I had very little furniture, we divided his clothes out into separate cartons and stacked them up. I knew we would need to do plenty of shopping because Simon's clothing was for a much colder climate than we have here in New Orleans. He had too many heavy winter clothes and not enough lighter wear. For our first night in New Orleans and our new home, I decided that we should celebrate by eating out. Simon's palate needed to receive a thorough education in Cajun and Creole cooking and he might as well start quickly. He was very excited. We dressed nicely, although casual would have been more appropriate. First we walked through the famous French Quarter and I showed him the extremes of Bourbon Street - glitzy, gaudy and noisy. Most people think that garish and bawdy Bourbon Street is the French Quarter, but it most certainly is not. Most of the quarter is quiet and residential and even a bit tame. We walked down the quiet and very upscale Royale Street; it is hard to believe that this other world is only one block from Bourbon. We looked around Jackson Square and the multitude of shops there, and also the sketch artists and psychics camped around the square. The weather was mild and it was a very pleasant walk. We did get some looks from some passersby, but they must have been tourists. We ate in one of my favorite places (when I had the money), Arthur's. It was family run and very homey place. The old man greeted me and I introduced him to Simon. He took Simon around, showed him the restaurant and took him into the kitchen to introduce him to various employees. Simon was all smiles when he returned to the table where our first course was waiting for us. The meal was delicious and Simon basked in the world of new flavors he was discovering. Some of the Cajun dishes were a little too hot for him and he passed on them; I told him that within a month he'd be eating everything just like a native. We walked slowly back to the warehouse and went up to our loft. I had a private sleeping platform constructed in one corner of the large floor and I wanted...no, I needed...Simon to sleep with me even though I had acquired another bed for him. Simon looked at that second bed and laughed. "Do you really want me to sleep in that small bed, uncle? I do not think so. I think that you would like me to sleep in your bed with you. Right?" "Yes, you're right, Simon. I'd love it if you would sleep with me." "Then that is what we will do." I was happy that our previous sleeping arrangements and sexual encounters were to continue. I loved Simon very much - as a nephew and a new found lover. He was everything I desired in a companion. We crawled into bed and held each other while watching TV. I knew Simon was very sleepy - it had been a very long day - and he fell asleep in about fifteen minutes. I held him tightly not wanting this dream to end; in his sleep he returned the squeezes and caresses. However, I could not fall asleep. My mind was too active. I was worried that my constant tossing and turning would wake up Simon. I could not sleep because I kept seeing Simon in scene after wonderful scene conjured up in my imagination - my mind was certainly playing tricks on me. He was so beautiful walking through the Garden District or the French Quarter, playing hide and seek among the tombstones of our unique cemeteries. I knew I need to begin; I need to begin to fulfill the promise that I had made to myself of creating new and different works of art. Simon was to be my inspiration - my muse. I got out of bed and grabbed a sketchpad and pencils and in the dim light of the loft created only by the light from the street (there were no shades on the windows) I began to feverishly draw Simon. ---------------------------------------- When I awoke, the smell of fresh brewed coffee filled the loft. I had apparently fallen asleep on an armchair in the gallery; the sketches were neatly stacked on the table next to me. I looked over towards the kitchen area and Simon was busily working away. He seemed to be cooking something at the small stove. I rubbed my eyes, looked at the wall clock (it was shortly after 10 AM) and stood up. A pencil clattered to the floor and Simon turned around to look at me. "Good morning, uncle," he said while grinning and continuing to stir whatever it was he was cooking. "You seem to have had a very busy night." "Good morning to you Simon. Yes, it seems to have been productive." I picked up the sketches. There were nine of them, and if I may say so myself, each was more beautiful than the prior. There was Simon in all his fantastic, exuberant youthfulness and his stunning, mouthwatering beauty. I had drawn his sleeping features using different recalled sites as backgrounds. He was gorgeous. I was thrilled by the results. "Did you look at them?" "Yes, I did uncle; and I think they are most beautiful. Did you uncover me to draw them?" "Oh, yes. Well, I think I did. I don't remember much of what I did last night." "Come here and have a cup of coffee. I made it nice and strong. I have already had a cup. It is quite delicious. Community Coffee." I walked over to the kitchen area and pour my coffee. I looked over at the stove and he was cooking oatmeal that he must have found in the cabinet. I tasted the coffee and it was great. As I turned to him, he was facing me and smiling. I could not help but to immediately take him into my arms and hug him tightly while giving him a very long and very loving kiss. "You are an incredibly great kid, Simon. It has only been a few days, but I know how you've improved my very existence." He smiled a really big smile at me. "Thank you, uncle. Thank you. I know I have been very happy for all the days I have been with you and I know that I will be very happy in the future." ---------------------------------------- That afternoon I registered Simon in a nearby private school. It was what some would call a "progressive" school. To me it taught and concentrated on the subjects that were most important: English, art, history, science and music. There were no crap courses and no wasted time. It was located out on St. Charles Avenue and he adored taking the streetcar to get there and back every day. Simon came to love it after a period of adjusting to American (and New Orleans) ways. He did extremely well. He was on the soccer (or football, as he called it) team and began studying the piano again. I didn't have one but he was able to practice at school every day. Simon seemed to be adjusting very, very well to his new life in America, and I was adjusting fabulously to having Simon living with me and being part of my life. Simon made friends very quickly and many of them would come to the loft to play and study together. Most of the boys were older than Simon because he had been placed in a higher grade than his age warranted. We spoke about these friends often because Simon noticed that one of the boys, a good looking redheaded kid name Farrell (I don't know if this was his first name or last name) seemed to be making a play for my Simon. I told him that if he thought Farrell's advances were honest and meaningful he could return them if he wished. He thought about this long and hard before telling me a few days later that he decided that I was to be his only lover - at least for now. He loved our relationship and did not want to do anything to jeopardize it. I was so very pleased with his decision. Every evening he would pose for me between study sessions. The works being created were enormous and, to my sight, magnificent. However, one thing still bothered me about every work I produced of Simon - I could not exactly capture the unbounded "boyness" of Simon in these canvases. I even tried sculpture, I tried photography - yet these still did not capture the incredible boyhood enthusiasm, the phenomenal spirit and passion of this most magnificent time of life - this time of unbounded youth - this time of learning and growing and maturation. I was frustrated with the outcome of many of the works and I painted over several of the canvases. I needed to do this to save money. Still I continued to try to capture the essence of my Simon. We continued to be lovers in the most wonderful, fulfilling ways. We always slept together and it was wonderful having this loving and beautiful child in my bed every night - and sometimes during the day. It was always an enlightening experience. I always learned something new about Simon and/or me during our times of lovemaking. If only I could transfer these experiences - these feelings - these incredibly high emotions - to my work. What was stopping me from making the breakthrough I craved? Was I trying to obtain the unobtainable? Was what I wanted an impossibility? Or was it just simply beyond my meager capabilities. Was there no way to capture the essence...the depth...the true nature of this boy? Years of frustration would be my future if I did not make a breakthrough - and make it rather soon! The End of Chapter 3 Please Look for Chapter 4, the conclusion of the story, shortly.