FOR MONEY OR LOVE (man/boy) by Ganymede (Copyright 1995) WARNING: This story will contain graphic descriptions of a variety of sexual acts between men and a MINOR boy, and his special problems as he grows to realize who and what he is. Generally, relationships are mutual and are based on informed consent. If the subject of man/boy sex offends you, if this material is illegal in your place of residence, or if you are under the legal age for such material, do not read further! You have been warned! Read at your own risk! The story is fiction. Any resemblance to any individual, alive or dead, is unfortunate. WHY ISN'T THE STORY POSTED TO ALT.SEX.STORIES I have little interest in presenting my work to a newsgroup whose primary interests are in other areas. If you want to send this story to alt.sex.stories, other newsgroup, or post it elsewhere, I ask only that this header remains in place and that the text is unchanged. Each chapter provides a convenient place for posting sections, should you wish to place the story elsewhere. This is the first part of a story that will eventually exceed several hundred pages. The second part will take some time before it is finished. Because of my desire for privacy and security I cannot accept comments or criticisms by email. If you wish to provide support and suggestions please post to alt.sex.stories.d, and, if necessary, I will email you from there. FINAL WARNING: If you are under the age of 18, if this material is illegal in your place of residence, or if man-boy relationships aren't your thing, then exit now! FOR MONEY OR LOVE -- Ganymede. Introduction "Well, what do you think, Casey?" I asked. I handed over the sheet of paper. Casey studied my handwritten scribble, deciphering my notes slowly. I grinned and took it back. "Let me read it. We don't have all day. Okay, here goes. "Gay Times in the Caribbean. "Eros, a luxury, 70-foot motor-yacht departs weekly from St. Thomas in the U.S. Virgin Islands on a 7-day cruise of the wonderful islands of the Caribbean. We cater for unique life-styles with 4 cabins, each with private bath and queen-sized berths for couples seeking fun and excitement in tropical ports or the most romantic and secluded anchorages. Explore the depths of the coral reefs, dive on Spanish galleons and search for gold doubloons, wind-surf, or take one of our two inflatables to the beach for a romantic evening. Our four-star chef prepares superb meals. Local and French cuisine are specialities. "Basic rate per person is $1,500 per week (air fare not included). Discounts are available for advanced purchases and off-season travel. A gay time is a way of life aboard Eros. Reply to xxx 345-2919." Casey giggled and cuddled closer to me, entwining smooth slender legs with mine. A small, suntanned hand circled over my belly, inching slowly over my swim-shorts and towards my penis until fingertips brushed against my penis and squeezed my glans gently. "Yeah! I like it." "The advertisement or my dick?" I asked crudely. Casey giggled. "Both!" A few seconds later. "Do you want to do it?" I smiled. I needed to fax the advertisement to several gay newspapers in the U.S. But they had waited this long and they could wait another half hour or so. "Yeah! I always want to do it." I laughed. "You got anything on under that sun-dress?" Casey's head shook slowly. "Nothing? Not even panties?" Casey's head shook again. This time with playful eagerness and a smile of anticipation that threatened to become a lewd grin. I reached for the small, suntanned hand and pulled it towards me. Casey came with it, grinning cheekily and straddling my hips with accustomed ease, finding a natural position directly over my stiffening penis. We were sheltered from prying eyes on the foredeck. During the last two weeks it had become our favorite place on Eros. There, we could enjoy the heat from the afternoon sun on our bare bodies as we suntanned, or engaged in other more active pursuits, because while the sun was hot, the temperature was still comfortable. The breeze kept the yacht swinging lazily at anchor. Beyond the port bow, the palms came right down to the beach. The glare from the white sand and the sparkling, azure-blue water was dazzling, but we were oblivious to it. My attention was riveted on Casey fumbling with the cord to my shorts. "You want to go diving again afterwards?" Casey asked coyly. I nodded, remembering what had happened in twenty feet of water the day before. "I never would have thought that diving in the raw could be so much fun? It must be the company I keep." "What do you think they'd say if they knew who paid for our boat?" Casey asked as the cord finally came untied. I felt my shorts being tugged downward by small, strong hands. No longer patient, Casey wanted me naked, immediately. "Who's they?" "Anyone I guess. Like the guys who read our ad?" "I expect they'd be surprised to know how their tax dollars are being spent." "But it was our money. Well,... it was kind of ours," Casey giggled. "It depends how you look at it. I doubt if anyone would believe us, anyway." I grinned as my shorts came past my knees and my erect penis felt the life-giving warmth of the sun and Casey's small, sweat-moistened hand. I picked the hem of Casey's sundress up and lifted the brightly colored material, exposing lean brown legs and a diminutive sex organ. I liked the floral pattern of Casey's dress but I liked him naked even more. Now undressed, Casey smiled shyly and lay down over me. Chapter 1. The Client Nearly twelve years old, just two weeks to his birthday, and Juan Fernando awoke once more to the noise of sex. The sounds were loud and insistent. It was as if the sounds were stealing his innocence as they pounded relentlessly through the thin wall. He fingered his penis with precise and meticulous stokes on the sensitive skin that enclosed his tiny glans. As he concentrated on the delight that this gave him, he listened. Minutes passed and he began to squeeze and rub the bulbous tip that he felt beneath his foreskin, pinching it until he squirmed with pleasure. The sounds were unmistakable, a staccato beat from the movements of two bodies locked in passion. There was a rhythmic endless noise, the squeaking of bedsprings and the frenzied knocking of the headboard of the heavy brass bed frame against the wall. The staccato was accompanied with strained breathing that came in gasps, and frequent, drawn-out moans that were almost painful. He listened even as he tried to bury his head into his pillow and submerge himself back into the peacefulness of sleep. But like most mornings, sleep would not come back to him again. Juan lay still, wanting only for the noise to end, to hear the groan of orgasm in the adjoining room. And then silence would return. Against the white of the pillowcase and in the darkness before dawn, his tousled, chestnut-colored hair was almost black. One wisp, lighter than the rest brushed his forehead. It was a curling gold-hued lock that, in the light, would have glistened with a hint of red. Though summer had long since ended, his hair still evidenced long hours spent in the Californian sun and chlorine from the municipal swimming pool. His hair was long, far too long for a boy in the mid 1990's. His features were exquisite, a sublime mix of two races with skin of a color that would evoke a poet to call honey-colored. He was neither dark like an Asian nor pale like a European--he was a delicate blend of a Philippine mother and an American father. His father existed only as a few pictures in a shoebox. They were dog-eared pictures that showed signs of endless handling as much by himself, his mother, or by his younger brother. One picture was of a U.S. Navy lieutenant, a carrier pilot, that was taken on the flight deck of the USS Enterprise at the base at Subic Bay. The others were taken at various locations along the west coast of Luzon in the Phillipines. The boy did not need to be told that the girl in most of the pictures was a Philippine hooker who was probably no older that he was. Even though the photos were twelve years old, he easily recognized his mother. Despite his questions, Juan never learned much more than the fact that soon after the eruption of Mount Pinatubo, his father had brought his mother and the two children to the U.S. on the promise of marriage. John James Hunter disappeared shortly afterwards. For the next three years they had been illegal immigrants and she had continued to ply her trade in order to survive. She had not stopped. "Ohhh! God! Do it deeper! Ohhh, fuck! Faster!" The anguished scream of his mother's passion penetrated the wall and seared a cry of ecstasy into his mind. The boy twisted onto his side and pulled half of the pillow over his head to drown out the noise that followed. He held the pillow tightly and pressed it hard against his ear. He knew what happened now. He knew the noises became even louder. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the shame he felt within him. A single thought struggled free inside him and built into a crescendo until it screamed louder than his mother's passion and he could no longer avoid its presence. In his imagination, the man's thick penis entered his body. He could feel it pushing, piercing, pumping, pounding inside him. It penetrated him like his mother was penetrated and it forced a vagina inside him where there was none. Unable to resist, it turned him onto his back. He lay breathing with fractured gasps until he heard his mother's grunt of orgasm. But the noise went on and on, still striving for relief and instinctively he pressed his slender, smooth legs wide apart. Now splayed out on the bed like a frog ready for dissection, his hips contorted and lifted upwards to meet imaginary downward thrusts. The movements of his thighs were slight at first, in synchronized jerks with the knocking against the wall, but the tempo increased until he was thrusting upward in unison. His body and mind yielded to it, wanting it deeper and faster. Not male, not female, he struggled in a lonely confusion as the red-hot shaft merged into him, never realizing that his own small appendage was every bit as hot and hard as the one in the room next door, as hard as the one that existed in his mind. More grunts from the room next door, then the final desperate slamming of the bed against the wall with the dying throes of ejaculation. He felt the man's seed squirting out as it sprayed his virgin womb with a torrent of sperm. Not even twelve years old and he knew what happened. He knew from the silence that the man had slumped down over his mother's inert body, the rigid penis now softening as the excess semen dribbled out of her and onto the sheet. His dream, if that was what it was, began to fade. His body relaxed as he suddenly realized that he was tensed. It was as if an overwhelming pressure existed within him. In the final moments his back had arched and his legs had strained with the force of slender muscles pulled taut until he was lifted off the mattress. His firm buttocks had squeezed tight as if to resist, or to open his vagina wider. But there was no vagina between his legs just as there was no semen inside him. Again Juan turned onto his side. Now he rubbed at his genitals, pretending that his hand became wet as his fingers dragged through the folds of his labia. But he felt the silken skin between his legs, the wrinkles of his retracted scrotum, and the residual hardness of his penis. The accelerated growth of his scrotum and its precious cargo passed unnoticed. He was beginning to ripen but his testicular growth had been slow and was easily denied or overlooked. Six months ago, in the heat of summer, his scrotal sac fell short of the length of his penis when he stood before a mirror. Now, with winter approaching, his testicles were bigger and heavier and dropped below the puckered tip of his foreskin, but there was nothing else to indicate that puberty was approaching with stubborn persistence. Juan sighed tiredly. His eyes closed again. This time he brought forth memories of his mother. He remembered easily because the memory he sought was an incident that had occurred less than a week earlier. It was a vivid memory. She was lying on her back and a stranger, a client, was half kneeling, half lying over her. There was more than enough light from the lamp beside the bed to see the man's penis. The man's reddened tumescent shaft was clearly illuminated. It was enormous compared to his own. He watched in a silent jealous rage as the man ejaculated over his mother. The massive shaft was engorged with blood and it glistened with the slick juices from inside her as spurts of semen rained down over her dark flesh. It was only one time of many times that he had watched from the doorway. He cupped his hand over his genitals and pulled his small penis and testicles upward to stretch the scrotal skin taut. Though a little painful, there was now a soft furrow between his thigh and groin, and he pressed his fingers against his urethra to make a fold of flesh that stretched down between his legs. For a few all-too- brief seconds he pretended that it was his clitoris. Unlike most mornings, this time it gave him no pleasure. He released his captive sex organs and opened his eyes. Even in the dim light through the curtains he could see that his younger brother was still asleep. His lips tightened and he breathed out with a sigh of relief. He pushed the comforter way and sat up. He was almost naked. Juan wore underpants but they had been pushed off hurriedly during the night and now they were only on one leg, just below the knee. The white of the cloth contrasted sharply with his amber skin. He leaned forward and pushed the warm cloth the rest of the way down to his foot. He put the other foot through the empty hole and pulled them upward again as he came to his feet. The underpants had a high waist that reached past his navel and were at least one size too small for him. They were tight on his buttocks and served to accentuate the cleft between his round cheeks. It emphasized the roundness of his small genital bulge, his boyhood clearly evident. For a moment he contemplated tossing his pillow at his ten-year-old brother but the temptation was overcome by an even more pressing need to urinate. He left the room. The door to his mother's room was still closed. He went into the bathroom, tugging his underpants down even before the door was closed behind him. Like a girl, Juan sat down on the toilet. He directed his stubby penis downward between his legs with two fingers, not bothering to retract his foreskin. Within seconds, the hot stream splattered into the water beneath him. Once started, he did what he did every morning-- in fact just about every time he urinated. He pressed his knees together and slipped his hand away from his groin. He looked downward and smiled shyly. Now he looked like a girl, or rather, there was no visible manifestation of his gender. He was sexless and it was more than enough to satisfy him. His bladder emptied quickly and the pressured stream changed to a trickle. He stood up, pulled his underpants back up. A small dark spot formed in the cloth before the pointed tip of his tiny uncircumcised penis but it went unnoticed. Juan was just about to leave the bathroom when the door opened. The first thing he realized was that he had not seen this man before. The next thing he realized was that the man was naked. From the color of his skin and dark hair, the man appeared to be Mexican or Cuban. It came as no surprise to Juan for increasingly, his mother's clients were foreigners. The man stood before him with a knowing smirk. Without the pretense of modesty, he grasped his genitals meaningfully. "I gotta piss, kid. Get the fuck outta here!" the man said crudely. The boy was transfixed, his eyes riveted on the man's penis. It was the first time Juan had seen a man's penis so close before. He stared at it in awe, blocking the way to the toilet. The penis was flaccid but the purplish veins were still distended. He could see that a glistening wetness coated it. Juan swallowed. The man's other hand reached out, cuffing the boy on the shoulder. He stumbled as he was shoved to one side. "I said, get the fuck outta here you little queer. I ain't pissin' with no audience." Louder this time. The boy looked up, startled. Juan tried to back away but he came to the half-open door and stopped against it. He was mesmerized more by the sheer size of the man's penis than by the flood of yellow urine that abruptly burst forth and drummed loudly into the toilet. The thought that gripped him and prevented him from moving was that this penis had been inside his mother. Again he was envious. But it wasn't the penis he coveted. He was envious of his mother. Without knowing why, the boy yearned for it to be inside him. Juan wanted it, not with the same grudging desire he saw in his mother as she serviced her clients, but with a greedy longing that emerged from somewhere deep within him. He stared, enthralled, preoccupied with the images that easy sprung up from the imagination of a boy. The man looked back at the boy. "I always gotta piss bad after I fuck. Your mother's a great fuck. You know I just got through fucking her, don't you kid?" The boy looked at him in dumb fascination. So absorbed was he by sight of the man's penis and his own fantasy that he didn't realize the man had stopped and was now standing before him shaking away the last droplets. As one splattered against his bare leg his spell vanished and he looked up. "What are you looking at, queer? You want my cock? Is that want you want kid? I ain't no queer but I bet you'd make a good fuck. I bet you fuck just like your momma." The boy swallowed. His eyes were still cast downward, still focused on the man's genitals, still engrossed. "You want to suck me off, kid? You want me to fuck your face, don't you?" Juan shook his head and tried to back away. His movement was stopped by the bathroom door behind him. The man reached up over the boy's head and pushed the door roughly. For an instant it was restrained by the flesh of the boy's buttocks and then it closed with a loud slam. Finally, Juan looked up. He shifted his feet nervously, thought for a few seconds, and slowly shook his head in denial. The man laughed as he reached forward. Both hands settled on the boy's shoulders possessively. Juan shook his head again, this time vehemently. "I don't want to do that, man," Juan whined That he was ashamed was clearly revealed in the bright crimson flush in his face. But the excitement that Juan thought was well hidden was also revealed. He trembled visibly and swallowed. Just the thought of it, of having the man's penis in his mouth was enough to make his throat dry. Only it wasn't dry, he realized. He wasn't afraid. The strange feeling in his mouth came from the undeniable knowledge that he wanted it there, that he could already taste it. Again his mind sprang free, recollecting another time, another night, and another man. How many times had he witnessed his mother doing the same thing that this man was now offering to him. And she had, she had taken the penis offered to her. She had taken it into her mouth and sucked. Juan had watched from the shadows. He had watched and wanted, just like he wanted now. "Of course you do. It's written all over you. Vistoso! Maricon" the man taunted. "Huh? What is?" Juan asked. "I don't understand Spanish," he added nervously. "You want to suck me, queer boy? I bet you suck cocks really good too, just like your momma. You sure got the mouth for it." "What do you mean, it's written all over me?" Juan asked again. "Look at you, boy. Your dick is standin' out hard. You can't take your eyes off me. If you not queer, I sure don't know what straight is." "I, I, I'm not," Juan stammered uncertainly. But he glanced downward and saw the white cloth of his underpants stretched outward into a little pointed tent over his groin. Again he tried to shake his head, to pull away and leave the room, but the man's hands held his shoulders firmly and slowly pushed downward. Not with a lot of force, but enough to let the boy know what was expected of him. Juan knew who was in control. There was little that he could do to resist. He tried to shake his head one more time in futile resistance. His opposition was ineffectual. Juan submitted. His knees buckled and his legs seemed to collapse under him so that he sank to the vinyl floor. When he stopped he was kneeling before the naked man. The big, hungry penis swayed just inches before his eyes. "No," he countered. It was little more than a whisper from his lips as he succumbed and slowly leaned forward to bring his mouth even closer. But even as he had tried to resist he had wanted not to. As he stared at the living pendulum before him he could think only of his mother. In vain he tried to block out the sight of it. He closed his eyes but still his only thoughts were of her. Through closed eyelids he could see her clearly, kneeling in the same position, reaching up, caressing it, fondling the lengthening shaft with slender fingers, soothing the hardening flesh with warm soft lips, tantalizing the very tip of it with the pliant, wetness of her tongue. The hot softness of the man's now swollen glans pushed between Juan's lips even before he tasted the saltiness of it. The man's hands moved from the boy's shoulders to cradle his head, restraining it as the inward pressure increased. The boy gagged after an inch had gone inside. As soon as the bitter taste of urine, semen, and his mother's vaginal fluids filled his mouth he wanted to pull away. Bile rose upward in his throat as the man forced another inch into the small mouth. Juan's tongue was depressed and his jaw ached as he forced his mouth wide open. The one thing he knew that he could not do was to bite. Juan gagged again, now fighting the urge to vomit as the intruder bulged into his mouth and swelled his cheeks. He reached upward and as he remembered his mother doing and cupped the man's testicles. He held the huge, hair-covered sack in the palm of his right hand, intrigued by the sheer weight of its contents. Then with the fingers of the other, Juan stroked the long wiry strands of pubic hair that covered the man's groin, just as she had done. The man pushed forward and gripped the boy's head. He pushed his fingers into the delicate ears and twisted them into the soft locks of Juan's hair to restrain his movement. Another inch of thick, engorged penis pushed between the boy's perfectly shaped lips. "That's good, kid. Real good! Now suck it!" The man pulled back, paused momentarily, then pushed forward again. "Suck it! Go on! Suck it right inside, you little queer!" Juan sucked. He sucked with all his might. He opened his mouth as far as it could go and then he sucked as if his life depended upon it. It seemed to slide into him until it could go no further. The onslaught of the man's penis was stopped in the back of his mouth as it rammed hard into his throat. To Juan, it felt as if the entire length of the adult penis was inside him. He dared not even try to breath. It was not the memory of his shame or the shock upon being discovered but the sound of laughter that stayed with him from his first time. Not the man's laughter but his mother's laughter. The door swung open without warning. She stood there and glared down at him as she took it all in. And then she started to laugh. The man pushed Juan back viciously so that his penis was yanked free from the confinement of the boy's mouth. There was a resonant, sucking pop. He turned sideways and smirked at Juan's mother. "He was just cleanin' me off. Your kid sucks cocks better than you do," he teased. The woman's laughter seemed raucous in the bathroom. Juan cowered. He breathed in quick short gasps, suddenly aware that he needed air now that the huge penis no longer plugged his airway. "Well, you didn't pay for my boy to suck you off, Leon. Besides, he only had about a third of you in there, didn't he? I'd hardly call that sucking your cock." For the first time, Juan saw the man's aroused penis. Fully erect, it was easily nine inches long, easily three times the length of his own penis. It was many times larger. The shaft was swollen thicker than his wrist. The glans was rounded and as big and purple as a ripe plum. It was almost absurd to believe that it had gone inside his mouth. Even a third of its length was a remarkable achievement for a twelve-year-old boy. As he cringed and waited for his mother's wrath, he felt a strange satisfaction. "Get your ass out of here, Juan." She continued to laugh. The young boy shuddered even as he wondered why she was laughing. "Mom? Mom please? Please don't be angry with me. I didn't mean to. Mom?" "Just get out of here. Get out, child! This is no place for a boy." The man laughed harshly. "He did okay for a kid. He sure wanted to suck my cock. I think you better have a talk with him. A boy like him could get into a world of hurt with the wrong dick." "Well he's not suckin' on this one. This here is woman's work," she laughed. "You can go find your own cock to suck, if that's what you want Juan. Only next time find something that's more your size." She stepped closer to the man. Juan came to his feet precariously. He saw his mother's hand clasp the man's penis possessively. He saw her bright-red finger nails squeeze into the ruddy flesh, still moistened from his saliva. He looked away indignantly, irritated by his own helplessness. For the first time in his almost twelve-year-old life Juan recognized his mother as a rival. This time there was no dispute about who was the victor. "See! I told you he wanted to suck my cock," the man observed crudely. He pointed at the dark, wet spot on the front of the boy's underpants. "He pissed himself just suckin' on it. Your kid's a born cocksucker!" "Maybe, Leon, but he sure ain't suckin' on yours. If he wants to, well he can find his own. I told you to get out, didn't I," she added as she glanced at her nearly naked son. "Get your ass out of here, now!" Juan turned and ran back to his room. Nearly two days passed before the incident in the bathroom was mentioned again and then it was not with his mother. Chapter 2. Home Alone It was two days later that Juan and his brother, Jamie, came home from school to an empty apartment. It was just like every afternoon for as long he could remember. It was not unusual for his mother not to be home when they arrived. She worked at a bar, beginning in the early afternoon and going long into the evening. Her client for the night, if she found one, was almost always a customer. The two boys would be by themselves again. Juan found his key in the bottom of his jacket pocket. "I want to go down to Brian's place, Juan," Jamie stated as he hesitated in the corridor. "You're supposed to do your homework," Juan countered as he opened the lock. He turned back to his brother. "I can do my homework there. His mom said it was okay for me to stay for dinner. Besides Juan, there's nothing you can do to stop me." "Did you ask mom this morning?" The younger boy, some two years younger than Juan shook his head. The two boys were a lot alike. Unknown to either boy was the fact that Jamie, with his slower temper and greater wit was more like his father. Both boys had names whose origins were to be found in the man who sired them. Other than a slight physical resemblance, it was their only link with a man who had died almost ten years earlier. Juan Cassidy, age 28, had died in aborted takeoff from the U.S.S. Enterprise barely a month before Jamie had been born. "Mom was still in bed. She was with that same guy, you know, the fat Mexican creep who was here last week. I sure wasn't going to ask her," Jamie added defiantly. "They were fucking, man! You could hear them doing it, Juan." Juan shrugged but inside he felt his frustration blossom. He was also angry. He had heard the same noises during the night. It started again before sunrise. Even though the two boys had grown up with it, the f-word from the mouth of what appeared on the surface to be an innocent ten-year-old was particularly obscene. "Yeah, he was the same guy. He's usually with Mom on Fridays," he acknowledged. "I heard it too. I guess it's okay. But you gotta be back here by ten, Jamie." "Yeah, yeah, yeah," Jamie chimed. He grinned and shoved his backpack towards his brother. "What about your homework?" "I don't have any," Jamie answered swiftly. The lie went undetected for several seconds and then it no longer mattered. The younger boy had already turned and run down the corridor towards the stairs. Juan started his homework as soon as he had changed his clothes and prepared his snack. He settled down in the living room where the late afternoon sun still penetrated the otherwise gloomy confines of the apartment. He spread his math book on the floor beside him, slurped his milk and began. Math was his least favorite subject, it took the longest, and he wanted it out of the way. Nearly two hours passed before Juan put the math book away. He stretched his legs. The sun had long since left the room and now he was sitting in near darkness. The track suit he wore had come from the Goodwill store. At one time it had been expensive and it still bore the signs of quality. The plush cloth was velvety and warm and had a fuzzy softness that felt nice against his bare skin. He stretched back and lifted his arms behind his head so that the top was pulled upward. He yawned in boredom. The firm flesh and lithe form of his lower belly was revealed and as soon as he felt the cool air he glanced downward. He was slender and his waist narrowed more than most boys. Freed from the mental struggle with his math homework, his thoughts shifted. He wondered how much different his body looked compared to that of a girl of his own age. There was the obvious difference, of course, but if he overlooked that he decided that he came close. Some of the girls in his sixth-grade class already had breasts, or what purported to be breasts but were still the ripening mounds that heralded things to come. But breasts did not interest him in the same way and he grinned to himself and lifted his hips up from the floor. The elastic in the waistband offered no resistance and he quickly shoved his sweat pants downward to his feet. As usual, he wore no underpants. He pushed his penis and testicles between his thighs and clamped his legs tightly together. He continued to look downward but now he smiled in satisfaction. The hairlessness of his groin was accentuated by the absence of his genitals. The smooth skin was stretched over what remained from the puppy fat of his pre-teen years: a v-shaped mound of soft flesh that would eventually disappear and become his pubis. There was a small dip at the junction of his invisible penis and a thin, dark line at the point of attachment. As his penis started to become erect the dip increased in size, becoming ever more prominent and in the darkness, more like a vagina but not enough to really please him. The doorbell had broken six months earlier and had never been fixed by the landlord. But then the landlord was a faceless corporation whose only goal was to accept the rent checks and send out warnings when they were received late. He was startled out of his reverie by the sound of someone knocking on the door. For a moment he thought it was his brother but the knocking was insistent and stronger. Hurriedly, Juan sprang to his feet. He tugged his pants upward as he ran into the hall. It took only a single glance through the peephole to determine the visitor. Without hesitation, he opened the door. "Hi Bruce," he said. The note of eagerness in his voice was not missed by the man that stood before him. "Hi yourself, mate," the young man returned. "Is your mom home, Juan?" The boy shook his head. "She's at work. She won't be home until late." He studied the man with obvious affection. Over the last three years he had come to like his mother's pimp. "You can phone her from here, if you have to. I don't think my mom wants to work tonight anyway," Juan added. "She was kind of sick last night after dinner. I guess she has a cold or something like that. She usually comes back here alone if she doesn't feel good." The inflection in his voice revealed his growing disgust. His mother was a whore and they both knew it. Bruce only visited the apartment when he was bringing a client to her or collecting his commission. "I don't have to call her, mate. That's not why I'm here." They glared at each other. "Don't be angry with her. It's a job, Juan. It's better that welfare." "Yeah. That's what she says too. She only does it for the money. But it still doesn't change what she does with them. And she doesn't even need the money, at least she wouldn't if she didn't spend it on crack." Bruce nodded understandingly. "Are you going to invite me in or am I going to have to stand out here in the hall." Juan grinned and backed away, leading the way into the darkened apartment. "Where's Jamie?" Bruce asked quietly. "He's with a friend from school, a kid called Brian. He lives downstairs. Jamie's staying there for dinner," Juan volunteered. Bruce nodded. "Home Alone, huh?" Juan smiled. "Yeah, only I'm not rich like that Culkin kid." The man returned the smile. "You're much better looking than he is." "Yeah, sure I am. What do you want my mom for, mate?" Juan asked playfully. He mimicked the man with a feigned accent that left a lot to be desired. Bruce smiled at the boy. "I don't want her, mate." He paused as he closed the door behind him. He locked it. "She asked me to stop by today and have a talk with you." "Huh? Talk with me about what?" Juan asked quickly. "Oh, this and that." Another pause as he looked steadily at the boy. Juan was not tall for his age. The top of his head was still several inches lower than the man's shoulder. He looked young, barely old enough to understand. "Mostly about sex," he added quietly. Juan smiled at the man he almost adored. He loved the accent. Bruce was Australian, or had been until a few years ago when he finally decided to live in the 'States,' as he called it. The boy shrugged. "I know some of that stuff already. From school," he added. Bruce leaned against the wall. "Sure you do, mate. With you mom being, well being what she is, you probably know more already than most guys your age." He hesitated. "She told me about yesterday morning." Juan reddened. He stared at the floor as the last two days of shame and guilt boiled to the surface. He had not expected this. He had always thought of Bruce as his best grown-up friend. And now even Bruce knew what he had done. He silently hated his mother even more than when she had laughed at him. Bruce led the way back along the hall and into the living room. "Let's talk about it, okay mate? So you sucked a guy's dick? Her john, right? I bet she was pissed." He dropped down onto the sofa. The boy remained standing, his silhouette framed in the doorway. Juan did not answer. Bruce spoke quietly, without condemnation, with reassurance, with open acceptance. "You have to be careful doing that. Sex is dangerous for a youngster, especially for a boy who's as good looking as you are." "You really think I'm cute?" Juan asked awkwardly. "Very! Come over here and sit down. That's better, mate. Now, sit down. Be honest with me Juan, do you really think you're gay?" Juan pondered the one question that frightened him more than anything else in his life. It was a question that he had considered time and time again. It was a question he had never answered. "I like being around girls," the boy admitted quietly. He wondered whether he had lied and slowly decided that he had not. He did like being with the girls in his class. It was as if he had more in common with them than he had with other boys his age. He had known that for a long time, for as long as he could remember. "Yeah, sure you do," Bruce said dubiously. "There's nothing wrong with being gay," he added. He reached around the boy's head. His arm rested gently against the slender shoulders and he stroked a thin upper arm. He leaned toward Juan. "Being gay is okay, Juan," he whispered into the boy's ear. "There's nothing to be scared of," he added as Juan shivered and tensed as if he was about to pull away. The boy nodded and pushed his tousled hair back from his forehead. It was an instinctive move but as his fingers combed the long locks it quickly became a feminine gesture. "You think I'm gay, don't you Bruce?" he asked nervously. "I know you are. I think I've known from the first time I saw you." "Shit!" Bruce smiled reassuringly. "I know how you feel. I know I was really pissed. I expect I felt the same way that you do right now. I guess I was about your age the first time I did it, mate. I'd been in the States all of three weeks." "So, how do I feel?" Juan asked arrogantly. Bruce answered sincerely. "Ashamed for one thing. You'll get over it. I remember I felt cheated. I didn't want to be gay." "Why me?" Juan asked plaintively. "Hell! I don't know. It just happens. Maybe we were always this way." "My mom knows, doesn't she?" Juan sighed dolorously. "That's why she asked you to talk with me." The man nodded patiently. "So, what happens to me now?" "That's up to you Juan." The boy's lips compressed tightly. He sniffed wretchedly and slowly swiped at his eyes. His distress heartbreaking to the man. "You can, if you want to," he whispered. "If I want to what?" "You can do it to me if you want to. I don't care," Juan said crudely. Bruce laughed. "You can forget something like that. But if I was into boys it would be a different story. You're incredibly sexy, even for a kid." "Yeah?" Juan asked. He clung to the man's words, desperate to find security and stability in his turmoil. Finally, he vacillated. "What do you mean?" he added curiously. "Not all men like young boys that's all. In fact, most gays don't go after kids. They like older guys. Besides, you're a lot better off with someone your own age," he added sincerely. "Oh!" Juan paused. "So, why not? Why can't a boy do it with an older guy like you?" "Well I guess there are a lot of reasons why not. It's against the law for one thing, mate. Until you turn eighteen you're jail bait. But besides that, well you're still a kid and there are a few things you can't do until you're older." Juan giggled. "Like make that white stuff come out of my dick?" Bruce nodded as he chuckled. "That's one of the things," he acknowledged. "Some of the guys at school say they can do it, you know, make stuff come out when they jack off." Juan leaned back against the man's muscular torso and nestled under his arm. "Is that what I have to do to before I, well you know, do it?" "No, it's not essential," Bruce acknowledged with a grin. "But it helps if you've got some spunk." It was almost dark in the room now and Juan snuggled closer into the man's warmth. He could smell the strong scent of after-shave and he liked it. There was also a musky odor, not as strong, but far more enjoyable. Then he remembered that the man in the bathroom had a similar smell only he hadn't noticed it at the time as being pleasant. He liked Bruce. "Bruce?" he asked quietly. "Can I ask you a question?" "Sure, mate. What is it?" "Will you do it with me?" Juan asked nervously. His voice became quieter, almost conspiratorial as he added, "You know, when I'm older?" Bruce nodded and gently squeezed the boy's thin arm. It served to draw them even closer together. "There's plenty of time left for you to have sex, mate. First thing is for you to grow up a bit." "Yeah, but, well,... Why not now? Why do I have to wait until I'm older?" Juan interrupted. "There's no rush, mate. You'll only get hurt if you rush into it at your age. Any way you look at it, you're still just a kid. Give it a couple of years. Don't be an idiot and end up like your mom or me. Believe me it's no fun. Have some fun first with your own friends." Juan twisted away and glared back at Bruce, suddenly distrustful of the man he liked so much. "You said what she did wasn't so bad," he countered angrily. Then the ugly thought struck him. "You do it too, don't you?" he demanded. "What?" "You do it for money, just like she does, don't you? WELL? DON'T YOU?" he shouted. Bruce nodded diffidently. He was a long way past caring. During his teenage years he had carried more guilt than most people knew in a lifetime. Twice he had attempted suicide and twice he had failed. He had tried booze, then pot, then cocaine. Nothing worked for him, except sex. No longer caring to hold anything back, he answered honestly. "Sometimes. I'm getting too old for the trade if you know what I mean. When I was younger, most of the times I did it was for money. That's how I met your mom. We were both working downtown. I guess you were about seven or eight at the time." Juan settled back down next to the man as the next question came to him. "So, if some guys even younger than me can make sperm, why can't I?" "Some guys just start sooner, that's all. Just be patient, you're probably closer to it than you realize." "Huh? How can you tell when I'll be able to cum," Juan asked innocently. Bruce smirked. "The best way if for you to pull your pants down and show me, mate." Juan giggled childishly. "Here? In front of you?" Bruce did not reply. He looked at the boy reclining beside him, not believing what he had just said. He shrugged nonchalantly as if seeing Juan's naked body was of no interest to him. He had always believed that a naked boy would hold no interest for him, even a boy who was as beautiful as this one. But he was interested, very interested indeed. His throat was suddenly dry and he swallowed. He felt a thrill of excitement and he could not help but smile at the boy. He had never this way before when he looked at a young boy. Juan seemed like a forbidden fruit, a delicacy that could easily become addictive. "Yeah. Why not, mate?" the man answered eagerly. "You got to promise you won't tell anyone, especially my Mom,?" Juan said with a sly smirk. Both man and boy silently regarded the other. The clock ticked loudly, the hands moving interminably onwards as it pursued an unknown destiny. Juan did not wait for Bruce's answer. He stood up and stepped back from the couch. With clumsily attempted seduction and a slowness that revealed his lack of expertise, his hands moved to his waist. Like a stripper he wriggled his hips sensuously as he pushed downward. His sweat pants were almost to his knees before he stopped. He straightened up, unsure of how far he should go. Bruce regarded him in silent fascination. In the dim light from the street lamp outside the window, the boy's body was little more than an outline in the darkness. He reached over and switched on the lamp next to the couch. "So?" Juan inquired. There was a note of urgency in his voice. It was a demand for acceptance, hopeful even for appreciation. Bruce said nothing. "I don't have hair down there yet," Juan added, still desiring admiration. "So I see." Bruce took a deep breath as if to quell his rising disquietude and gazed at the half-naked youthful body before him. The sight of the boy's bare thighs made his heart surge. Juan's loose-fitting top sagged down beyond his navel, covering his lower belly. His genitals seemed to peek out from underneath. He looked in awe at the proudly displayed body, his eyes focusing on the boy's diminutive sex organs with an intensity that disturbed him. The child, for that was what Juan was, was absolutely perfect. Unblemished by even the slightest trace of hair, his penis projected outward as if cushioned by his rounded scrotum. Unlike himself, the boy was uncircumcised. It gave the youth a mystery that had always seemed to elude him. "Like I said, you're sexy," Bruce breathed out. He hesitated as he examined the boy carefully. "I bet you're going to be cummin' sometime next summer, mate. Your balls have already started getting bigger." "What about my balls?" Juan asked uncertainly. "A kid's balls have to get bigger before he can cum. It looks like your's have just started. I reckon your cock will start getting bigger soon too. In fact, if I'm not mistaken, you'll probably start sprouting hair in a few months or so." It was Juan's turn to grin and he beamed back happily. Bruce extended his hand and their fingers touched, then clasped, and finally locked together. They watched each other silently, each afraid that any sound might break the fragile bond between them. "Take your pants all the way off," Bruce demanded. His voice was husky though gentle and it reassured the boy that his nudity would not go unappreciated. Still holding Bruce's hand, Juan shoved his pants down to the floor, lifted one foot and then the other until they were off, and kicked them off. "Do you want me to take everything off?" the boy asked shamelessly. "I don't want you to get cold, mate. You'd better leave your top on." Gently he pulled on the boy's warm hand, feeling a clammy moistness between the thin fingers. Juan took a single step until his legs brushed against the man's jeans. "You're beautiful," Bruce said. His voice trembled like a teenager on his first date. "God, you're beautiful." With his other hand he reached forward and lightly caressed the smooth, bare thigh that was nearest to him. His hand flowed along the lithe form. He felt the quiver of young muscles as they tensed and then relaxed slowly. He felt the swelling as the boy's small buttocks began, then the full roundness of the firm flesh of his cheek. His fingers traced a line parallel the boy's crevice, barely an inch from entering a darker, hotter zone. Resisting the temptation to go further, Bruce looked upward and met Juan's eyes. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked quietly. "If you don't want to do it, I want you to tell me, mate." Juan's head moved slightly, nodding his acquiescence. Like any boy on the precipice of discovering his sexuality, he lacked confidence. Unsure even of his own desires, but primarily afraid of what lay before him, he equivocated. "Can we stop if I want to?" he asked. "Whenever you want to stop, just say so." The boy considered his options momentarily. "Are you going to do it to me?" he whispered urgently. It was unknown, a vague undefined territory that somehow encompassed his body and focused on his genitals. It was what his mother did with her clients. At the most fundamental level, it involved sucking Bruce's penis, a thought that was not unattractive to the boy. Bruce shook his head slowly. "Not now. You're not ready for that yet." He exerted just enough downward pressure to bring the boy gently onto him. Juan sat in man's lap. Oblivious to the coarse cloth beneath his buttocks, he was aware only of the warmth that seemed to flow between them, from the man's groin into his thighs and buttocks. More content than he had ever been, he reclined into a strong embrace and sighed quietly as the arms enclosed him and held him tightly. "Are you scared?" Bruce asked quietly. Juan sighed again. "No. You make me feel good all over. I like being here with you." Bruce playfully squeezed the young boy. It was a strong tender hug of affection. "You feel like a big bear," Juan said dreamily. "I like you holding me." The man smiled to himself. Unseen by the boy, he leaned forward and nuzzled the silky head that barely came up to his chin. Like Juan, his feelings were foreign to him. They were very confusing. Was it simply a matter of the boy's age? If that was the only difference then it did not seem to be enough to account for what he felt. No, it definitely was not the same, Bruce decided. There was more to it than mere maturity or the lack thereof. With a man there was a sense of equality, even if he usually was the passive partner. With Juan came the roles of coach, teacher, and mentor. It was not a task that he immediately relished though the opportunity to enlighten the youngster offered interesting possibilities. His thoughts were interrupted as Juan stirred against him with a playful wriggle. "What happens now?" "What do you want to happen?" "I don't know. I'm the kid and you're the grown-up, remember. You're supposed to teach me." "No shit!" "So teach me!" They both laughed. It interrupted the stress of the moment. Laughter turned to tickles as Bruce slid his hand under Juan's top and jabbed his fingers into the boy's ribs. "Yyyoouuch," Juan screeched. His voice, still unbroken, hit a soprano high. "No! Don't you dare! I hate being tickled. Stop it! Bruce, don't! Please!" Bruce jabbed again and then transferred his squabbling, grasping fingers to the boy's lower belly. He stopped barely an inch from Juan's penis. Frantically Juan tried to protect his exposed groin. He realized too late that it was a trap and Bruce's fingers poked and prodded into his armpits. The boy writhed above the man, squealing and yelling and enjoying every wonderful second of it. He fought back but with decreasing resistance as his strength ebbed with his raucous laughter and lack of breath. "Stop it! Oh God. Not my dick again! No! Shit! Don't Bruce! Please." "Say you'll do whatever I want!" Bruce commanded in mock sternness. "Say it! Now!" "Fuck you," Juan swore as he giggled hysterically. He tried to grab at the man's groin but his attack was easily fended off. Bruce tossed him onto the couch and pressed him down into the cushion. He dragged the Juan's dark blue top upwards so that it was gathered under his shoulders. The boy's bare, lightly tanned torso was heaving as he struggled to regain himself. He had lost the battle but he had won the prize he wanted. Bruce leaned over him. "Say it, you little cocksucker," he demanded as he pressed his thumbs into the tiny indentations of the boy's nipples. "Say you'll do whatever I want!" "You want me to suck your cock, don't you?" Juan gasped amid continuing giggles. "I can suck you off just like I did to my mom's john." "Maybe. I haven't decided what I want you to do yet, mate." "I bet his cock is way bigger than yours is," Juan taunted. "Maybe," Bruce replied. The excitement he felt was unlike any he had known. The beautiful boy lying on the couch had an incredible effect on him. His heart was pounding so hard that it felt as though he would explode any second. "I could barely fit his cock in my mouth, it was so big," Juan added in a sing-song teasing voice. "It was AWE...SOME." Bruce gazed down on the inert, nearly naked boy, his eyes drawn to the small genitals. Juan was not fully erect but he was not far from it. His penis had stiffened more than enough to reveal his excitement. Compared to the massive organs of his previous partners, the boy's penis was tiny. Its small size made it appear delicate, like a fragile jewel that adorned the center of the young body. It served only to increase the man's arousal. "What if I want to suck yours instead?" Bruce countered. He tried to imagine the taste of the juvenile sex organs but he could not. He had always wondered how his own penis had tasted when he was still immature. Bruce reached for the small penis and smirked. Juan responded like a child who was denied the pleasure it sought. He pouted, half in jest, half serious. "I'll suck you, okay," Juan said quickly. Then without warning he changed his mind. "I'll do what ever you want, mate," he mocked. He shivered as Bruce's fingers brushed lightly against his belly and descended slowly down his hip and onto his thigh. Then back again, leaving a tingling trail of excited nerves as it travelled ever closer to his groin. The man's fingers stroked into the moist furrow between leg and scrotum and then continued back to the junction of belly and thigh. Their eyes met knowingly and Bruce's fingers enclosed the stubby shaft of an almost rigid penis. They breathed out in unison. Juan's penis jumped as it flexed instinctively in the endless search for even greater stimulation. His testicles had tightened into a small inflexible knot that was as wrinkled and large as a walnut shell. "That feels real good, doesn't it?" Bruce inquired as his fingers massaged the small glans that was hidden under the boy's foreskin "It's great," Juan sighed. Two fingers and a thumb enclosed his penis and gripped the satin- smooth skin. Bruce's hand began to move imperceptibly but it instantly evoked another sigh. "Yeahhh," the boy breathed out in immediate response. Surprisingly, the response was born of instinct for Juan had never masturbated properly. In six months of self-pleasuring he had never discovered more than the delight that came from fingering and squeezing the sensitive skin of his penis. "That's nice," he murmured. Bruce's finger's gripped the small shaft harder and expertly pushed down the length of it. The foreskin easily retracted and the tiny glans appeared. Sheltered from the irritation of clothing, its delicate membrane was blue-purple in color with a crimson slit on the underside, what was now the upper side. It was the first time that Bruce had seen an opening displaced and he stared in fascination. The slit was where the glans merged with the shaft. It was not an unusual birth defect and was less serious that most, merely one of inconvenience when urinating, rather than requiring surgical correction. If Juan had been circumcised, the position of his orifice and the appearance of his glans would have been disturbing. As it was, the opening occurred at the point where the corona began to flare so that it was well hidden by his foreskin when it was not retracted. From the urethral opening, to the tip of Juan's penis was a deep depression that made a prominent groove in the boy's glans. That single defect marred the absolute perfection of the young body but at the same time it served to establish an almost mystical aura about him. "It must be hard to piss straight," Bruce mused aloud. "Huh? What are you talking about?" the boy asked. His response came too quickly, his ignorance feigned. "Oh! Sorry! Nothing, mate." "You were talking about my dick. I'm not a complete idiot. I know I pee from underneath instead of from the end." The boy shrugged. "I was born like this. It's some kind of birth defect. They told me at the clinic once, you know, the place where Mom goes for her tests, only I forgot what it's called." Bruce nodded sagely. "It makes you look different. I kind of like it. You're special." Juan smiled awkwardly. "It's not like I have six fingers or something like that. Most of the time you can't even see it. It's only when it gets stiff like this and the skin pulls back." He reached down and touched Bruce's fingers with his own. "If you don't like it you can pull the skin back over it." Bruce's hand moved away. "I didn't say to stop," Juan complained. "It feels really great. I've never rubbed it up and down like that before. Keep on doing it," he added excitedly. Bruce grinned back at the boy. "I don't believe you've never jerked off before. You do play with yourself, don't you?" Juan shook his head. "I play with it all the time, only I don't do it like this. I don't know why, I suppose I never thought you could it like that. It feels much nicer like this. I guess I just found out how to do it properly." He looked down and studied the rhythmic movement of the man's hand as if to commit every action to memory. He giggled. "You're making it really stiff by doing it like that. It feels like it's going to explode any second." Bruce raised his eyebrows and then gasped in mock horror. "Blood and bits of boy-dick all over the room. What is you mom going to say?" he teased. "That's how it's supposed to feel, mate." His fingers slid along the short shaft, moving with surprising speed. He concentrated on the now-very-swollen glans. The small penis appeared even darker in color than it had been only a few minutes earlier. Tiny blue veins swelled up on the underside and the minute meatus opened up with each upward motion. The boy wriggled uncomfortably as the tension began to grow exponentially. His leg muscles ached. His breathing became erratic until he was gasping for each lung full. Bruce's hand moved expertly, taking the boy to ever increasing heights with every variation that he tried. Then without warning, Juan grasped the pillow beside him and buried his face as he cried out for mercy. His orgasm came and went in a flash as the lower half of his body jerked quickly with a passing spasm. His first time was gone before he realized it had even happened. He groaned from deep in his chest and pushed his face harder into the pillow. Bruce grinned and released the captive penis. Juan's orgasm had been dry as he expected but the short rigid organ had quaked under his fingers as if to expel its fluid. He reached up and gently brushed the hair back from Juan's forehead as he lifted away the pillow. The boy looked at him dumbly. There was a sense of wonder in the dark eyes, of bewilderment, of pleasure, of gratitude, and of embarrassment. "What happened?" he murmured. "Did you like it?" "Yeah I liked it. But what happened? I felt like I was going to die for a second. I felt great until then. Shit! What did you do to me? There was this weird feeling down there. It was awesome, like I was going to explode or something." "You had an orgasm, that's all." Bruce caressed the smooth cheek. "That was the first time it happened to you, wasn't it?" "I never felt anything like that before," Juan replied. "Never!" he added adamantly. They gazed at each other. "Is that how it feels when you do it? When you have sex?" the boy asked curiously. Bruce nodded and the boy sighed in contentment. His satisfaction lasted until the next question came to him. He tried to postpone the inevitable. "Bruce, if I ask you a question, will you promise not to laugh?" he queried nervously. "I'll try," the man answered. "Are you afraid you hurt something? You didn't. You'll feel better in a couple of minutes." "No! I feel okay now, just tired." The boy summoned his courage and blurted it out. "When you were my age, well did you want to be a girl?" "A girl? What? Instead of a boy?" Bruce answered in surprise. He glanced down at the boy before him. There was something about the question that frightened him. It went far beyond an attraction to his own sex. He sensed the boy's confusion as he watched the dark eyes try to avoid his own. He answered honestly as he gently stroked the warm softness of the inside of Juan's thigh. He marvelled at smoothness-- there was no hair, not even a faint dusting of peach-fuzz. "No! I always wanted to be with a man. I didn't want that. Why? Is that what you want?" "Oh! No! Well, I guess not. I mean, well,... sometimes I think about it, you know that I'd kind of like to be a girl. I think that I'd be happier if I was, instead of being a boy." "If you were a girl, you know we couldn't have done what we just did?" Bruce added placatingly. "There's nothing to hold onto with a girl." "Yeah, I guess not." The boy smiled slightly and then paused thoughtfully. "But you could fuck me," he responded. "You don't have to be a girl to be able to do that," Bruce observed. "I don't understand." His heart leaped with immediate joy and his slender body quivered with a surge of adrenaline. His mouth remained opened in awe. "You're kidding me, Bruce," he denied momentarily. "Guys can fuck each other, you dummy. What do you think gays do together?" "Uh? I thought,..." The boy blushed visibly embarrassed by his own ignorance. "I thought,... well that they sucked and did other stuff like that. But!... How do they fuck then?" Juan asked slowly as he pondered the mechanics. "How do you think, mate?" "I don't know. If I knew I wouldn't be asking you, would I?" the boy chided. "I thought you were supposed to be the teacher. Some teacher you turned out to be." "It goes in your backside." Bruce laughed. "You don't have a cunt so you use your butt instead." "Liar! You're kidding me." "Hardly mate. Why do you think they call it butt-fucking for? I'm sure you've heard the expression from kids at school." "I guess. Yeah, I suppose so. But, well,... I didn't think it meant anything. It really goes in my bottom?" Juan asked in astonishment. "It really does." "But the guys at school, they make dirty jokes about doing it back there. I always thought they were making it up. I thought that was what made the jokes funny, doing it where you poop from. Besides my mom doesn't do it like that." "She doesn't have to." Juan shrugged and slowly smiled as he realized the extent of his ignorance. "No, I guess not. But isn't it dirty? That is where I poop from," he admitted. "I guess it depends on how you think about it. I don't think it is, but then I that's because I do it. Not everyone thinks like me. You and I are part of a ten percent minority." Juan nodded and as he did so, Bruce's hand gradually crept from the boy's bare thigh closer to his now relaxed penis. Juan grinned in willing assent to the continued invasion of his private parts. But this time instead of enclosing his penis, the man's fingers moved to his testicles. They began to rub, gently massaging the tender eggs back and forth as they rolled within their silken purse. "Bruce, but I don't understand. Well how do guys do it, then? Does it go inside? I guess it has to if you fuck, doesn't it?" "Of course it goes inside your butt." The boy's mouth opened again in awe. "The whole way in?" he choked. "Sometimes. It depends. Some guys don't like it all the way in." The boy's astonishment did not abate. Juan remembered the size of the man's penis from only two days earlier. "There's no way it could fit," he thought aloud. Then he realized that he had spoken and he looked sheepishly at Bruce. "I was just thinking about the guy who my mom caught me with. I never saw one big as his before. There's no way he could fit in me." Bruce chuckled. "Well mate, if you can suck it, you can probably fuck it." Juan grinned back at the man. "Well you didn't see it. Man, it was huge," he retorted. "There's no way it could fit in my butt-hole," he added with emphasis as he continued to dispute the truth of Bruce's claims. But even as the boy examined the anatomical difficulties of engaging in anal sex he began to appreciate the possibilities. Though gradually accepting that there was no logic to it, there did appear to be a peculiar thrill that accompanied the notion of having a man's penis inside his bowel; if it was indeed possible. The man shrugged. "You'll find out in your own good time, mate. There's no rush to get your arse stuffed. You'll probably hate it the first few times anyway. It hurts like hell until you get used to having it in there." In response, Juan pouted. With his bottom lip pushed forward, Juan was irresistible. The urge to kiss the boy came suddenly. Bruce leaned forward and over Juan but as he neared the young mouth he sensed the beautiful body below him become tense. At the last moment, Juan's head turned to the side, instinctively resisting the intimate contact that the man proffered. The unwelcome kiss landed on his cheek and immediately, the boy's hand wiped defensively across his face. Bruce pulled back. "Sorry, mate," he muttered awkwardly as the boy turned back to look at him uncertainly. Too late Bruce remembered his own boyhood and the first time that he had been kissed. He had been repulsed at the time. He had just been much more intimate than Juan had been and he had felt nauseated as the man's lips engaged his, sickened as the man's tongue penetrated his mouth. He wondered why a boy could engage in oral sex with apparent impunity and then become chaste and squeamish when a single kiss was exchanged. From the outset he had not been revolted when the man had sucked his penis or when he returned the favor. With that in mind, Bruce lowered his head over the boy's genitals. This time there was no rejection as his lips brushed against the small penis. His tongue touched the warm skin and he licked it thoroughly, going back and forth across the sensitive flesh. He nibbled on the tiny glans, placing his teeth behind the corona, and expertly massaging the rounded end with his tongue as hard as he could. He brought his right hand back to the boy's small testicles. Again he squeezed them, this time harder than before, palpitating them with deliberate though carefully applied pressure. Under Bruce's ministrations the boy's penis began to stiffen again. It took less than a minute to shrug of its stupor and resume its former rigidity. As he felt the hardness return Bruce remembered his own youth. The frequency with which he had erections was still there, but the ability to recover so quickly from orgasm was only a dim memory. There had been but a few times with his first lover before he had become sexually mature. It had lasted all of three or four months. Fully erect, but stiller smaller than the man's thumb, Juan's penis was easily engorged. Bruce sucked with a vacuum that threatened to detach the small shaft. Then seeking more of the boy's delicious body, Bruce pressed the testicles forward and into his mouth. Juan gasped. The sensation was unlike anything he had known. At once very hot and wet, it pulled him inwards with a force that threatened to tear him apart. A wonderful glow rose through him and his blood rushed to fill the vacuum that was his genitals. He groaned and his hips lifted up urgently to meet the insistent suction, to give all of himself. His entire body seemed to be focused in three short, very hard inches of his penis. His knees drew up, higher and higher until his heels were digging into the couch and his thighs gripped the man's head resolutely. "Oh God," Juan whimpered. "Oh!" With his fingers covered in the saliva that drooled from his mouth and its imperfect seal around the young boy's genitals, there was ample lubrication for what naturally followed. Bruce's hand pushed under Juan's buttocks, easily finding the boy's anus several inches beyond the tapered end of his scrotum. The tip of one finger pressed into the heat that emanated from the tiny depression. The puckered flesh yielded as Bruce's finger began to push inward. For a moment Juan's hips lifted up in an instinctive response to protect himself. He had never been touched there and his reaction was a natural escape to avoid the violation of his privacy. But Bruce's finger moved with him, squeezing forward and penetrating the tight band. He entered the boy's anus only as far as the first joint and then the onslaught stopped. Juan had struggled only for a few seconds, his anus tightening in a vain effort to eliminate the intruder. He relaxed slowly and breathed out as he realized that he liked it. And then the finger began to move in a circle, loosening him as it began a cautious probing of his rectum. As the finger wriggled and squirmed so did Juan. It was impossible not to like it. A strange and wonderful feeling surged through him. It began where Bruce's finger was, where his mouth was, but it ran through his body like wild fire. He writhed in ecstasy and his anus began to dilate as Bruce's finger stabbed deeper and faster into him. He felt the pressure building inside him again and the sense that he was about to explode returned. Chapter 3. Cherry Stains That was how Juan's mother found them. After five more minutes the boy still had not orgasmed even though he had been at the brink most of the time. His aching body glistened with sweat. Even though his frenzied jerks had faded as he became accustomed to its presence, his hips continued to move as Bruce's finger pumped into the loose flesh that had once been a tight virgin anus.She stood in the doorway and watched for several seconds before they became aware of her presence. Startled, they parted instantly. She smirked as she looked first at Juan and then Bruce, and then she sneezed loudly. "Well just look at you two queers. Goddamn fucking cold!" she swore angrily. "Coleman sent me home, the fuckin' asshole. Didn't want me snottin' over the customers, he said." She dug into her open purse, extracted a tissue, and wiped her nose. She looked back at them with contempt, her disgust clearly visible. "And what do I fuckin' find when I get home? I find two queers getting it off on my couch. God, Bruce, I asked you to talk to him about sex, not screw his goddamned ass," she shouted. Bruce shrugged unconcernedly. "Sorry, Julia. Things kind of got out of control. But really, what did you expect? A little father-son talk with your son?" "Not this, that's for sure." She wiped at her nose again and pushed the tissue back in her handbag. "Yeah, I bet things got out of control. I thought you had a thing for young men, Bruce. Not some piss- ant kid who hasn't even got hair on his cock yet." "That's what I thought up till now," Bruce acknowledged with a smile. "Juan is something else," he added as he glanced down at the boy. Juan's face had reddened in embarrassment and he looked away as he tried to hide his shame. "Yeah, I'm sure he is, for a faggot." "So what if he's a wonk, he sure is sexy," Bruce smirked. "It's about time he started getting his rocks off." She started to laugh. "If you're saying that blowing my john was only the start for the little faggot, well I guess you're right, Bruce." Juan's teeth clenched and then he screamed in frustration. "I hate you. I don't like what I am but I can't help it." His mother turned on him viciously as she released her pent-up anger. "Just get out of my sight, damn you. Go to your room and stay there." There was a long resentful silence for the time it took Juan to gather his sweat pants and socks and leave the room. As the boy passed through the doorway next to his mother she grasped his shoulder. "Where the fuck is your brother?" "He's downstairs with Brian. He's staying for dinner. I told him to be home by ten, okay," Juan retorted. He walked awkwardly as pushed past his mother. He wanted only to escape to the privacy of his own room. They waited until they heard the door to his bedroom close. "Well?" Julia asked. "I'm sorry. Like I said, things went a bit further than I expected." Bruce paused and sighed thoughtfully. "You already knew he was queer, didn't you. So, what did you expect?" "Well not this, that's for sure. Did you really think I wanted you to screw him?" Julia asked. "Probably not," Bruce acknowledged. "But he's sitting on a gold mine, so to speak." "Meaning what exactly?" Bruce smiled and stroked his upper lip thoughtfully. "He's as cute as they come. And he's as gay as any kid I've ever seen." "So what?" "He could easily make two hundred a trick, if he wanted to that is. Maybe even double that with the right people." "Get real. The kids hustling downtown make nothing like that. Forty bucks, sixty tops," she retorted. "I'm lucky to make a couple of hundred on a good night and you really think he could make it on a single trick. Get real." "I'm not talking about him working Vaseline Valley, Julia. And even if I was, the kids who are making forty or fifty a trick are a lot older than he is. Anyway, mostly they're only doing blow jobs for that," Bruce explained patiently. "They're drugged out of their minds and not one of them have his looks. The kids that don't have Aids are rotten with the clap." He stood up and took several steps towards her. "Besides Julia, he wouldn't last more than a week. The first time the cops pulled him in, they'd keep him locked up. Just one look at your rap-sheet and he's on his way to Juvenile Court." "Great idea!" Julia snorted. "So, smart ass, then why don't you tell me exactly how he's sitting on a gold mine." Bruce smiled patiently. "That's easy. I know some guys who'd pay big bucks for a boy like yours. It's kind of a kiddie fuck club. A boy like Juan would fit right in and do real good. There are five or six men with more money than you or I'll ever know. Juan is the kind of boy they'd be interested in recruiting, even though he's younger than most of the kids they get. He could bring home three, maybe four hundred bucks every weekend." Julia's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "What's the catch?" "There isn't any. Juan would spend weekends with them and a few other boys. They have a farm back in the San Gabriel mountains. It's a nice place. There's a big old hacienda with a pool, even some horses, and unless things have changed there's a chef whose cooking is out of this world. He'd have to be discreet, of course." Julia nodded, thought for a moment and then nodded again. She smirked. "Sounds like Juan would have himself a lot of fun." "He'd be a lot safer with them than flogging his arse on the street," Bruce added. "How come you know so much?" Julia sneered. "I spent a couple of years with them. I started going out there when I was fourteen. They used to pick me up after school on Friday. I'd stay there until Sunday." "Five or six men," she mused. Her interest was piqued. There was a little hesitance as her anticipation of additional wealth was confronted by a mother's reluctance to involve her son in such depravity. "You mean he'd be fucked by all of them?" Bruce nodded. "Most likely. Not at the same time, of course," he added as an after thought. "Of course, Juan would be better off with one guy I know. He's got more money than Croesus, but he's very particular about his young friends. Still, I think he would be very interested in making young Juan's acquaintance. Juan's more than cute enough to interest him and he's at the right age, too. The guy is into young boys." "So what's the catch this time?" she inquired. "None. Same kind of deal if Juan makes the cut. He spends Friday nights with him and comes home with six hundred bucks for his trouble. It might even be more. I've heard about one kid who pulled in a grand every time." "You're kidding, Bruce. You say he'll make twice what he'd get with the other guys. What's he have to do with this weirdo for that kind of money?" "Same thing! He gets laid a few times every Friday night. The guy is okay. He's good with boys though you probably wouldn't expect it if you knew him. But you do know Paul Luchiano, don't you?" Bruce queried. "You're joking. Luchiano?" Julia asked in surprise. She started to laugh. "This is unreal. I'm getting screwed every Friday night by Testa and my friggin' kid is gonna get his ass humped by Luchiano. I don't believe it! Testa would have a fit if he found out!" Bruce lifted his hand deprecatingly. "Between Testa and Luchiano they must control half of the crack in the city. I don't think anyone knows that Luchiano is into little boys? You better make real sure your Mexican boyfriend doesn't find out. They'd kill each other as soon as spit." Julia nodded. "But isn't Luchiano married?" she continued suspiciously. "Yes, but so what? It only means he has to be more careful. Juan's going to be the luckiest kid in LA if Luchiano takes him to bed. He couldn't do better if he was getting knocked off by Jacko." "Who?" "Jacko. You know, Mikey," Bruce laughed. "How come you know about Luchiano? Don't tell me you got it off with him too," Julia snickered. "Not wrong! From the time I was about Juan's age, right up to my fourteenth birthday. Of course, that's the problem with Luchiano. He only likes young boys, the pre-pube kind. Once Juan starts to fill out and mature he'll get the boot. He's got maybe two years left until that happens. Still, he ought to make at least seventy or eighty grand out of his ass by then, maybe even a whole lot more if he really hits it off with Luchiano." "You really think that he could get more than if he went out to this farm place you mentioned?" "At least twice the bucks I guess. Luchiano always takes good care of his little friends. Once Luchiano's finished with him, then Juan can always hike his little butt out to the mountains. If he plays his cards right he might even make enough for college," Bruce grinned. "I don't believe the boy can make that much workin' tricks," Julia said arrogantly. "Juan's only a kid. He doesn't even know what his cock's for yet." "That's exactly why he can make. Bloody hell, it's just a matter of demand and supply," Bruce interrupted. "With his looks he'll learn his dick's worth more with a guy like Luchiano than just wanking if by himself. And if I'm right, it'll happen quickly enough. There's a lot of pervs out there ready to teach him what his dick's for, and a lot more besides." He looked at Julia quizzically. "So, what do you think?" "About what? About turning my son into a whore? What's in it for you?" "My usual cut because I'll set it up. I'll take a third of whatever the kid brings home." "Two hundred bucks or more for just setting it up? You must be crazy!" Julia snorted. "Okay! Okay! So I'll pick him up from here and take him to wherever Luchiano wants him. I'll even bring the kid back here when he's done." "If I was to say yes, why would Juan want to go through with it?" Julia asked cautiously. "Let me put it this way. Like I said, he'll have more fun than sitting around here wanking his tool by himself. Luchiano will take him to some real nice places. All Juan's got to do is get his heels up a few times a week and he's in clover." Julia shook her head. "I didn't mean that. Would he do it? I don't want him running off to some counsellor at his school as soon as he gets scared. Do you think he'd want to do it?" Bruce shrugged. "He's a smart kid, plus he's a faggot. I'll need to have a talk with him beforehand, of course Julia. I wasn't kidding earlier when I said he was sexy. I think he'll go along for the ride, so to speak." The man chuckled. "He'll figure out the benefits pretty quickly." "All right! If you can talk him into it, I won't say no." Julia started to walk into the kitchen. Bruce followed close behind her. She went to the refrigerator, opened it and took out two cans of beer. They popped them simultaneously and clinked the cans together before drinking. It sealed the deal. "So if Juan's interested, what happens next?" Julia asked. "I need to get a few photos of the boy first, in the raw. I need something I can show to Luchiano, enough to see if he's interested." "How soon before you can set it up with Luchiano? There's only a few days until Friday. I want to know what's coming down." "Yeah, sure yer do! What's the sweat for? Christ! I expect it'll take a day or two at most. But if Luchiano wants him, well it'd be a good idea for Juan to have a bit of practice first, if you know what I mean. If he's still a virgin the first time, God only knows what he'll do when Luchiano tries to screw him." "Does it hurt?" Julia asked. She took another long sip, savoring the coldness in her sore throat. "Do you really care?" Bruce returned. "How much do you plan on letting Juan keep for himself?" he countered. She gave him a dismissive glance. "You want to break him in for Luchiano?" "Do you have anyone else in mind for the job?" Julia laughed. "Well my darling son tried to suck off one of mine a couple of days ago. I thought maybe I'd bring the guy back to finish the job." Bruce shook his head as he smiled. "Juan told me about the monster dong. Do you want to kill the poor bugger or break him in? No way, Julia. This has got to be done with finesse. We don't want to damage the merchandise, do we?" "So why don't you do it? He likes you. Why not right now? " "Now? Tonight?" "Why not, Bruce? It's as good a time as any. Besides his brother is out of the way and you can use his room. How long will it take anyway? Do you have somewhere else to go?" she teased. "Not all that long," Bruce answered. The proposal was interesting and he considered it with growing fascination. "It'll be over before Jamie gets home. What about you?" "I'm going to bed. It must be the damned flu, I think. I feel like shit." Bruce nodded. He remembered the beautiful boy lying almost naked on the couch. The softness of the warm young flesh was unforgettable. At the time the desire had been there for both of them although he had dared not admit it, not even to himself, especially not to himself, he corrected. "You got a frog in here?" Bruce asked as he reached for Julia's handbag. "A what?" "A frog! You know, a frenchie. I nor just flippin' his dick, you know. I'm gonna need a rubber for him." "What the hell do you need that for? He sure ain't going to get pregnant, now is he?" she taunted. "Are you afraid of getting his shit on you cock, is that it?" For a moment Bruce ignored her jibe and then he smiled. "You know why as well as I do. Now-a-days a kid like Juan better start out learning properly. At his age you can just about guarantee Juan's going to bleed like a stuck pig. He might not get a second chance." She passed her worn leather handbag over silently and Bruce expertly searched the side pocket. He extracted a single condom in its cellophane packet and then removed a tube of K-Y. It was half finished. The end of it was rolled up clumsily and the top was smeared with clear ooze. "Why does the little fucker need that for? I guess his little ass must be too dry to fuck, is that it?" Julia taunted as she leaned forward to recover her handbag. "Just give it back to me when you're done, okay." Her eyes followed Bruce as he turned and left the kitchen. There was no question in her mind that she had done the right thing. Even conservatively, she counted on six hundred dollars, less three hundred after overhead and expenses. Bruce's two hundred dollars for delivery and a hundred for Juan, still left more money than she needed for crack. The only problem was that the money wouldn't last for more than a few years. And then she smiled as she wondered whether Jamie would follow in his big brother's footsteps. That raised an interesting possibility. Chapter 4. Used Merchandise It was nearly eight o'clock before Bruce came back into the kitchen. He had wrapped a towel around his waist to cover his body. Julia glanced up from her slumped position at the kitchen table. Four empty beer cans were lined up like soldiers and a fifth can was within easy reach. She wiped her mouth as Bruce sat down in the seat before her. "Where's Juan? You finished fuckin' the little brat's ass didn't you?" she slurred loudly. Bruce breathed out. "He's asleep." He reached for the can of beer. "If you're interested, he's okay. Just worn out, that's all. He'll get over it soon enough." "You been up his ass all this time? Christ, it's been over two hours," she demanded hotly. "Hardly, Julia. Mostly we were talking. He has a lot to learn. He's a good kid," the man acknowledged as much to himself as to Juan's mother. "Did you tell him about Luchiano? He's gonna do it, ain't he? The little fucker, I can tell from your face that he said he would." "Yeah, he's going to do, Julia. At least he's going to try it once or twice with Luchiano and see if he likes it." "He fucked with you okay, didn't he?" she demanded. "He liked I bet. He's a goddamn queer just like his father was. Just as soon as I was pregnant with him, the bastard goes off and starts screwing my little brother." "Yeah, Juan's okay." Bruce drank slowly and then opened his other hand. He dropped a wadded-up handkerchief onto the table and spread it out. The cloth was no longer white. The center of it was smeared and streaked with red blood. It was still wet. "What's that?" Julia belched. "You might say they're cherry stains. What did you expect?" "Cherry stains? Christ, what did you do to him?" Julia asked. She coughed and reached out for the beer can. "I think you've had enough booze for tonight," Bruce answered as he refused to hand it over. "I told you Juan was a virgin. You know Julia, I forgot how tight a kid's spink was before it got stretched out," he teased. "He's okay. There's always some blood the first few times. He'll bleed a bit till he gets used to it." "So did he like it?" Julia persisted. "Did he like having your cock up his ass?" Bruce shrugged. For a moment he wondered whether Juan had derived any enjoyment at all from it. He wasn't sure whether any boy actually liked it the first time. He tried to think back, wondering whether he had. Mostly for a boy of Juan's age it was a matter of tolerating the pain until it ended, of trying not to cry as a man-sized penis pounded into his gut. That Juan had cried at first had come as no surprise to him, but after the initial penetration and his anus had relaxed, it had seemed to get better for the boy. His wailing had slowly turned to a quiet puppy-dog whine that was almost of pleasure. And at the end, as he pumped faster and deeper into the loose, sucking hole, increasingly desperate lunges that heralded the approach of his own orgasm, it had seemed that the boy was pushing back at him as he grunted. Had Juan enjoyed it? It was more than likely. He nodded cautiously as he watched for her response but there was none. "He was as horny as a bitch in heat," Bruce stated flatly and then added sincerely, "Yeah, I guess he liked it by the end. I don't imagine young Juan will have too many problems by the time Luchiano takes him to bed." Even though it was true, his answer shocked him. Juan had been reluctant at first and it had taken a long while to coax him into it. It was not seduction. Though the nearly twelve-year-old boy had ever been with another male, he was eager to explore. What had held him back was neither innocence nor immaturity. It was simply a deep-rooted fear of his mother. Once Juan had understood that Bruce was in his room with his mother's approval, his fear began to dissipate. As he learned that his mother actually sanctioned what Bruce wanted him to do, his inhibitions began to crumble. Not much more than an hour after Bruce had closed the door behind him, he began to insert his penis into the boy's small anus. In the beginning there had been little pleasure in it for either of them. Long accustomed to accepting a passive role, Bruce was reluctant to do what was expected of him. His diffidence was exacerbated by the fact that he had never been attracted to young boys. He had been mechanical, avoiding the boy's eyes as he took on the role of instructor and carefully probed into the tight orifice. There had been no passion, at least none that Bruce had experienced. Bruce drank again, now finding solace for his guilt in the cold beer. "Is the kid ready for Luchiano?" Julia asked. Bruce looked up suddenly. "Uh? Is he ready? Yeah, I guess he is. It wouldn't hurt for him to do it a few more times first. He's still got a lot to learn but mostly the kid needs to get used to having a man's dong stuffed up his brownie." "What did he say when you told him about Luchiano?" "Nothing much. He sulked a bit. I guess he expected he was gonna get if off with me from now on," Bruce replied. "Maybe I will in a few more years. Right now it would be a goddamned waste." "It's a pity you're queer, Brucie," Julia taunted loudly. "I could do with a man about now. I always knew you were into guys, but I hardly expected you to take on a little kid. You must be a great fuck, especially for a kid like him. Yes, I can just imagine how much little Juan liked you humping against his ass." "I do okay. Your son can hold his own too for that matter, Julia. I guess he's just like his mom in that respect." Bruce smiled slyly. The last two hours with Juan had been as close as he would ever come to copulating with a member of the opposite sex. "Anyway, a few weeks from now and he'll bang like a shit-house door." "Then it's a pity he only has a few years left to spend with Luchiano, isn't it." Julia belched again and reached under the table to scratch her crotch. "He's nearly twelve now. He isn't going to be a cute little boy much longer." Bruce regarded her curiously. "Well short of putting his balls on the chopping block there's not much either of us can do about that, now is there? Talk about damaged goods, the little poofter wouldn't be worth shit without his nuts." That was a lie but Julia would never know it. There something he could do but only he and Juan would ever know about it. Juan lay on the bed, still naked and exposed to the cool air of the evening. He was not asleep, though he had drifted off only a few minutes earlier in a restless escape from the pain in his lower abdomen. For a while his thoughts wandered aimlessly, eventually coming back to the problem that now confronted him. He had never been so confused about his feelings, about who he was. And he hurt inside. The pain was dull but relentless, an ever present burning ache of tortured and bruised flesh. The tender lining of his rectum had been abraded. His once-tight anus had been forced open as he was impaled. Bruce's penis rammed into him. The muscular band of his anus had been stretched beyond it's limit as it endeavored to accommodate the man's organ and a small fissure had formed. Juan turned uncomfortably onto his side and carefully drew his knees upward until they were against his chest. In that position the pain was bearable. It slowly faded to a sensation of fullness, a continuing feeling that the man's penis was still enclosed inside him. He wiped the wetness from his cheeks with the corner of his pillow and sniffed loudly. A strange, though not unpleasant aroma lingered in the room. It was tinged with the pungent odor of feces, Juan could not determine its origin, though it was a smell that was reminiscent of the yeasty dough that came from the bakery he passed on his way to school. He lay quietly, thinking to himself and remembering what had happened on his bed. With each minute the fullness inside him seemed to increase until it felt like it was bulging into his belly. He cramped and he groaned as the pressure increased. For one awful moment he thought that his bowels had released. He farted and air gurgled wetly as it gushed in a wheezing expulsion through his dilated anus. Absently, his right hand felt his buttocks and he cautiously examined the cleft between his cheeks for the feces he expected to find. He felt wetness only as his fingers pushed into the cleft and brushed against the swollen node of his anus. Bruce had wiped him clean afterwards. Bruce had carefully turned him onto his belly and placed his legs apart. Then with meticulous care and gentle dabs with his handkerchief, the man had removed the sloppy mess that had formed between Juan's thighs. It was done with such thoroughness that it was as if the man was expunging any sign of what had transpired on the boy's bed. He wiped away the evidence of his guilt. Juan's fingers felt the heat that now oozed out of him. It was slippery, like snot. It was just like the stuff that Bruce had used to 'lube' him. His deft fingers pressed into the slime, sliding in the film between them. He gently tested his anus with a light pressure. It did not hurt the way he expected it to, in fact the coolness of his fingers felt nice. He probed it again and felt the it give way. The openness surprised him. His anus appeared to be wide open, a gaping hole into the dark depths of his body. That frightened him and for a long time he wondered whether he had been permanently damaged. He realized that he had been injured for he had seen the blood on the handkerchief and knew that it could only have come from one place. His panic had been quickly squelched as Bruce explained that it was normal, that it would stop quickly, that he would bleed until he got used to it. Without even thinking, the boy continued his process of discovery. Two of Juan's fingers penetrated the puffy opening, gliding on the residual of gel that had remained inside him. His anus offered to no resistance and within seconds both fingers could go no further. His knuckles squeezed into his crack as he pushed as hard as he could. He sighed as he felt his own fingers and the delicious sensation returned. It easily overwhelmed the pain he felt. He moved them back and forth, simulating the motion of Bruce's penis. The sensation changed and immediately became more intense, more demanding, more enjoyable. The pain vanished. "Oh man," he muttered to himself in disbelief. His fingers squirmed, twisting like two squirrels in playful combat. He gasped as his nerves began to tingle and without warning the feeling became infinitely better than anything he had felt with Bruce. For the nearly twelve-year-old boy it was impossible to believe that his body could feel so wonderful. As before, the pressure in his lower abdomen began to increase. He stopped only when it became painful to continue. He felt as if he would burst if he continued a moment longer. With reluctance, Juan pulled his fingers free of the sucking, mushy tissue that held them. Air burst out him. The explosion of gas was violent and it frightened the boy. Again he examined his buttocks, this time less cautious than before. He found nothing and he breathed out in relief. He lifted his right hand up and inspected his fingers. He had expected to find feces on his fingers but there was none, not even a trace of brown. He brought his fingers closer to his face and curiously smelled the glistening streaks that coated them. He immediately identified the source of the strange aroma. It was a nice smell he decided. He wiped his fingers clean on a corner of his pillow. Slowly he straightened his legs out, moved them to one side, and sat up on the edge of the bed. Three thin folds of skin formed at his waist. He glanced downward and studied his small, wilted genitals. Although his erection had disappeared as soon as Bruce's penis had started into him, he still felt drained. His exhaustion showed in his shrivelled penis and scrotum. Juan was no longer oblivious to the soreness inside him. It had returned as soon as he had started to move in a sitting position. He shifted uncomfortably and looked around his room, barely recognizing the familiar surroundings that his been his home for five years. Suddenly he felt very tired, as if the strength in his body had been suctioned out and he existed only as a shell. Every movement was now an effort for him. He sat quietly. His mind was in turmoil, even thinking in any logical way was impossible, but he knew that he should not try to stand. Juan looked at the night-stand between the two beds and hesitantly reached for the evidence. It was the proof of what he had done. He fingered the rubber sheath of the condom tentatively, first prodding it with his forefinger as if it might bite him before cautiously rubbing it. He could see the white fluid inside the translucent membrane. It was a slippery gooey fluid, similar to, though thicker than cream. He examined the yellowish membrane carefully, mystified by the change in its appearance. When Bruce had shown him how to put it on it had looked very different. No longer a tightly coiled band, the used contraceptive had become stretched out into a long, thin tube that was soggy and cold. Once Juan had agreed to do it, things had happened quickly. There was, in the urgency of the moment, a rush of uncertainty but Bruce was adamant. By that time, the man was also naked and they were lying on the bed together. Even though Bruce had insisted that they would stop whenever Juan wanted, upon reflection the boy knew that it would have happened no matter what he said. In the privacy of his own room, Juan had been confronted for the first time by his own desires and a man who was as gay as he was. His decision was both instinctive and impulsive. Juan had gradually become more and more excited until it seemed that every part of his body was tingling with the thrill of contacting the man's bare flesh. His penis had become very hard, considerably harder than Bruce's penis. It had stiffened until it was so rigid that it might even snap off if mistreated. When the time came he had straddled the man's legs and followed the directions he was given. He had been surprised as his unrolled the pliable skin down the man's penis for it had not looked as though it was big enough to cover the swollen six-inch shaft. But it stretched over the bulging veins and made them less prominent and unrolled all the way to the hairy pubis. And then he had smiled eagerly. He realized what would happen next and he greeted the knowledge with enthusiasm. Presently he picked it up by holding the slimy film between two fingers. The outside of it was still wet. The wetness came from him, and from the stuff that Bruce had squeezed into his anus. He mused quietly as he examined the contents again, closer and more carefully. Though as well informed as any twelve-year old boy, Juan had never seen semen before, at least not like this. He had seen the telltale dark spots on his mother's sheets, the crumpled moist tissues on the night-stand, even the starchy cloth of her clothes, but never the real thing. There was a lot more of it than he had expected. It was funny to think that the stuff inside could make babies and kill at the same time but he knew enough about Aids to know its deadly consequences. For a few seconds Juan wondered how it would have felt if it had gone inside his bottom instead. He smiled as he remembered the feeling of Bruce's penis jerking inside him right at the end, only moments before he had stopped moving. It seemed as though he could feel something squirting into him, a distinct pressure and then a sloppy, hot sensation deep inside him about where the man's penis ended. At the time it had frightened him because Bruce had become increasingly frantic. By then the man's hips had come tightly against his thighs with each inward thrust. Even as Bruce had started the long process of inserting his penis into the virgin boy, Juan's position had been uncomfortable. He could not move. His legs were lifted up and pushed into his chest and held there so that he could not offer even the slightest resistance. His bare feet felt cold. He had only wanted for it to end but he needed it go on and on forever. He sighed, remembering how it seemed to get looser once Bruce's penis was inside him. It felt terrible at first. There was an immense pressure concentrated in a very small spot. It came in waves, each stronger than the last. After several minutes Bruce had stopped and hugged him. The worst was over, he said. It would only get better. He was shaking, quivering with fear that his agony would get worse until he died. Like a huge stake, the man's penis was being driven into him. His body tried to resist but each tightening spasm on the invading penis caused cruel tremors. It was as if every motion tore him further apart. Stretched to the limit, the young body relinquished its innocence and finally accepted defeat. Bruce's penis slid the rest of the way into his rectum. The worst was over, the onslaught for this time at least, was finished. When Bruce resumed, it was with gentle thrusts that went back and forth as he rocked against Juan's buttocks. As the young body loosened the good feelings began. They became stronger and stronger until his earlier pain was only a dim memory. But those first joys were only a precursor for what followed. The sensation became ever more enjoyable. With every minute the delight intensified, becoming better and better until Juan's body began to move in unison. With every forward thrust that slammed into his, his narrow hips braced and his slender belly muscles became taut, resisting its power so that he felt the full force. He wanted to lift up to meet it but movement was impossible. Each thrust came into his belly with a rush that pushed the air from his lungs. He grunted as he exhaled and then sucked for air frantically as Bruce's penis pulled back. Juan stood up gingerly. He winced as the pain seared his fragile body and he braced his legs against the bed as he tottered weakly. He closed his eyes and tried to focus his effort on not falling down. He breathed deeply. He was aware of a void inside him, an unpleasant hollow feeling that now existed where Bruce's penis had been. He concentrated on trying to remove the emptiness in his bowel, squeezing unseen muscles of his lower abdomen that pulled his testicles fractionally higher. He winced again as a small spasm came quickly and more air gurgled from his anus. Still carrying the dirtied condom daintily, he shuffled to the bathroom. The urge to defecate was upon him without warning and he slumped down onto the toilet seat. There was another painful cramp, another spasm, and another explosion from his exhausted bowel. It was wetter than before and it felt as though muddy ooze had squirted out. Tiredly, Juan's head dropped down to his knees and he cried softly as he wished the pain would go away. It took ten more minutes before Juan considered trying to stand up again and he did so carefully. He wiped the tears from his face and realized that he was okay. The pain had abated to an uncomfortable rawness that necessarily accompanied his bruised flesh and slightly torn anus. He moved with deliberate slowness to the vanity and splashed refreshingly cold water over his face. Feeling better, he dampened a wash cloth and cautiously sponged between the small cheeks of his buttocks. Juan quickly decided that the coldness was nice and he wet the wash cloth again after meticulously rinsing out the dark fecal stains. His anus was swollen and bulged outward to form a sensitive lump between his cheeks. Each gentle dab he applied with the wash cloth was soothing to him. Satisfied that he could do all that he could to relieve his discomfort, Juan rinsed out the wash cloth and flushed the toilet. The fluid that had been expelled from his bowel disappeared in a brown swirl as the boy watched curiously. With it went his shame and guilt. Both Julia and Bruce were surprised when Juan walked into the kitchen. For his mother, it was the first time in several years that she had seen her son with nothing on. Not since he had started the third grade, when he entered a period of modesty, had she looked upon his exposed body. Since then, he seldom disrobed even as far as his underpants in her presence. Now denuded before her, she did not look away from the boy, but studied him carefully. She had always known that both of her sons were like their father, both exceedingly handsome, but even in her drunken confusion she realized that without his clothes, Juan was astoundingly beautiful. She wondered when he changed from an awkwardly proportioned boy with the softness of baby fat to the lithe slender youth who now stood shamelessly before her. Though still immature, her son was beguiling. The color of his skin was not only much lighter than hers but he was hairless. There was a softness to his smooth, nearly translucent skin that made her jealous. Her son stood close to Bruce as if seeking his protection while he flaunted his newly discovered sexuality. The boy's genitals were distracting to his mother. The small appendage between Juan's slender legs that should have been easily dismissed as impotent and ineffective, could not be avoided. It was as if the child's sex was misleading. "You okay?" Bruce asked quietly. Juan nodded silently and glanced down to meet the man's eyes. Before he looked up again they had formed a secret bond. Then, for a moment Juan stared at his mother impudently, boldly challenging her to acknowledge his presence. She simpered back at him. "Get some clothes on," she commanded. "Go cover yourself up," she added. Juan smirked. "Why? Bruce has seen it, Mom In fact he's already done a lot more than just see me naked, hasn't he?" He looked at his mother, a reprehensible stare, of reproach and blame. Juan tensed and breathed deeply. "You let him fuck me," he said quietly. There was silence in the kitchen. "Well didn't you?" he screamed angrily. The woman glared back at the boy. "You want me to fuck his friend too, don't you?" Juan spat out. "You do what you want to do," Julia spattered. "You're old enough to decide what you want up your ass." "What if I don't want to fuck this guy?" "That's up to you but it's about time you did something to help out. I've worked hard to keep you and your brother. I've gone without things. Besides, you might as well sell it as give it away." Juan sobbed. "You want me to be a whore like you, don't you?" He paused and wiped his eyes with the back of hand. "All you want is money for more drugs," he added hotly. "For money or love?" Bruce said. "That's the big question, isn't it mate? You either do it because you love the guy or because you want the money. You can take your pick but any way you look at it, well it's still fun, isn't it?" "Don't worry, Mom. I'll do it," Juan said plaintively. "I'll do it with Bruce's friend. He can fuck my butt and you can have your damned money. I don't care. I hate you!" he shouted as he ran from the kitchen back into his own bedroom. Julia and Bruce looked at each other. "Don't worry, he'll get over it," Bruce said apologetically. "He's just angry right now because he doesn't understand. I better go have a chat with him." Chapter 5. Dressing Up On this Friday, as he had for the previous Friday, Juan came straight home from school. Already a routine had been established and he had no time to waste talking with his friends. He unlocked the door to the apartment and then locked it again once he was inside. He did not need to call out to know that no one was there. His mother would soon come back with a client, the Mexican who had become a Friday regular, but not for another hour or two. Jamie would spend the night at Brian's place and Juan would be long gone by the time the two boys came home from school. He dropped his Rams-jacket on the table next to the door. Juan went directly into the bathroom, unfastening the buttons on his new Levis shirt as he went. Not bothering to close the door behind him, he reached into the shower and turned on the water. He continued to undress, dropping his shirt on the floor as he unfastened the clasp on his new Guess jeans and opened the zipper. He kicked off his new Nike sneakers as he went over to the toilet. He pushed his jeans downward until they were almost at his knees and sat down. He removed his socks and then tugged the still-stiff denim together with his new briefs down his slender legs and past his feet. His clothes, now-discarded on the bathroom floor, were the spoils of his first time with Paul Luchiano. They had purchased the clothes in the morning, after breakfast, after Mister Luchiano had entered him for the third time. The Rams-jacket had come later. The jacket and his new Nike sneakers had cost a hundred dollars, the first money that Juan had ever made by himself. Juan sat quietly. He waited patiently, it always took time. He had never been able to defecate on demand. He looked around the room, taking in the decrepid and fungus-stained fixtures, the stained vinyl floor, the perpetual damp odor that seemed to emanate from every corner of the apartment. After several minutes he stood up again and glanced down into the toilet bowl. Bruce had been adamant that Luchiano wanted him clean, both inside as well as outside, but there wasn't much that he could do about it. He stepped across the low threshold and into the shower. "Youuchh," he squealed. "Goddamn fucking shit!" he cursed loudly. He darted back from the scalding water. The water was never that hot in the morning when he showered. It was hard to get the temperature adjusted and he stood with his back pressed into the wall as he waited amidst clouds of steam. The boy began to soap himself. He cautiously wet the soap under the spray of water and went to work. He built up a good lather on his chest and belly as he enjoyed the slipperiness of his soap-covered body. He lifted up one foot, and then the other, as he painstakingly cleaned between each toe. If nowhere else, Juan washed with religious care as he cleansed his genitals, groin, buttocks, and lower abdomen. If Mister Luchiano wanted him clean, then he would be clean, spotlessly clean. He returned to his buttocks and used his left hand to spread his firm cheeks apart. He washed the crevice between the two globes with particular emphasis before pushing one soapy finger into the small depression of his anus. His movement was precise, a deliberate pressure that increased until the muscle gave way and his finger pierced and became an unyielding knife of sinew and bone as it stabbed into his rectum. Juan began to move his finger back and forth, then around and around, as if testing his elasticity. Satisfied, a second thin finger joined the first, pushing much harder to go into him. As his hand and outstretched fingers bore forward, he endeavored to relax, even to push back. He gasped, not in pain but in surprise as his anus submitted. He felt the sudden ingress of his fingers, revelling in the warm comfortable feeling. That feeling was totally unlike a man's penis inside him, an evisceration he had quickly come to accept and finally to enjoy. After testing the water temperature and finding it satisfactory, Juan rinsed off and began to shampoo. Everything, every part of his young body had to be spotlessly clean for Paul Luchiano. Before he had finished in the bathroom, he had washed his entire body again. He had even brushed his teeth twice. The boy dried off thoroughly, rubbing the large, well-worn towel over his body vigorously until his bare skin was tingling and several shades pinker than normal. Finally, he wiped the mirror clean of steam and inspected himself. Gratified that he was as clean as he had ever been, Juan left the bathroom and headed back towards his bedroom to get dressed. Juan stopped at the door to his mother's bedroom. The afternoon sun streamed in through the partially open blinds. Her bed was unmade and the sheets were pulled to one side. The boy smiled as he saw the lonely pillow in the center of the bed. He wondered and then smiled again as he dismissed the thought that had first come to him. There was no way that his mother would do what he did. She would never do that with any man. But if there was another explanation he did not know it. He knew only that Mister Luchiano had used a pillow under him to lift his hips higher, to position his buttocks so that the angle was right. Some of her clothes lay on the dresser, others spilled from the drawers or had fallen to the floor. Invitingly, a pair of glistening black panties hung over the corner of one open drawer. The boy stared at it, feeling a strange temptation. He shivered involuntarily as he stepped forward and entered into his mother's room. He was drawn with irrational magnetism to the dresser. He stopped before it, reached down and brushed the black nylon with his finger tips. The material was iridescent and as soft as silk, so flimsy and delicate that by contrast, the soft cotton of his own underpants was rough. He stroked it again in silent thought, paused for a moment, and then slowly picked it up. The desire seemed to rise up inside him, challenging him to dare to wear it. For only a few seconds he resisted but he wanted to feel it against him. He touched the satin sheen against his cheek and he quivered with excitement. It was a sensation that the young boy had never known. It exuded a feminine mystery, an aura that magically made his heart beat faster. Juan's breathing accelerated. He stared at it, knowing that he wanted to feel it on his body, but he dared not. Twelve years of conditioned inhibitions stood before him and the inviolate glossy cloth that offered what he wanted more than anything else. He swallowed as the temptation became ever stronger. There was no one to see him. No one else in the world would ever know what he had done. Juan shuddered as a sudden thrill rocketed through his lean body. His mind was made up and he sat down on his mother's bed. He moved slowly. His lingering pace was not from hesitation but nervous excitement. Juan trembled with every breath as he placed his feet through the lace-trimmed holes. The black nylon crept inch by inch up his legs to his knees before he stood up. Even his hands shook as he felt the coolness if the slick silk against the warmth of his bare thighs. He breathed heavily, trying to control his racing heart. It pounded inside his chest. In less than a minute his penis had become painfully stiff so that it jutted outwards into the flimsy garment as a cruel reminder of his male sex. The boy quaked as he walked toward the mirror that hung behind the dresser. Before him, he saw the slender form of a beautiful girl. She was still without breasts and her waist was boyish, but a girl nonetheless. He gazed in awe at his own reflection, as much in disbelief as in fascination at his own transformation. Although his mother's panties were several sizes too large for the boy they were designed to stretch. The waist band clung to Juan's narrow hips, following a line across his belly about an inch below his navel. He twisted around and with some difficulty, examined his behind. There, the difference in size and shape between a twelve-year-old boy and a grown woman, size five, was considerably more apparent. The cloth was loose over the firm flesh of his small buttocks. It was unappealing, even though it felt very nice. He turned back to the mirror and examined himself again. This time he noticed the incongruity of his rigid penis. "Damn!" he swore loudly. He pushed it downward angrily but it sprang back inflexibly. Juan yelped loudly. "Goddamn shit!" he cried in a combination of pain, anger, and frustration as his maleness reasserted itself. But there was little the boy could do about his penis. His now familiar erection, had never been this stiff before. Not even with Bruce had the boy's now-throbbing penis ached like this. Unknown to the boy, tiny blue veins made ripples on the tightly stretched skin as it pulled back against his glans. Although his penis was uncomfortably hard Juan was not further distracted by it. He turned back to his mother's dresser, driven by a primal instinct that quickly prevailed over taboo. His natural inclinations, no longer curbed by fear of his mother, triumphed. Hurriedly he searched through the top drawer. Uncertain of what he was looking for, he roughly pushed more underwear and a nightgown to the side. His excitement had reached the stage of panic as he pulled a bra from the tangled mess. For a moment he held it up to his chest and then dropped in to the floor. Without breasts, it had no value to him. A camisole of thin black nylon caught his attention next. Juan held it against himself and studied the mirror. In the last minute his temperature had risen quickly and his hot skin revelled in the coldness of the sleek fabric. It was as smooth and delicate as the briefs that covered his genitals. It covered even more of his fevered, naked body. Even though he had watched his mother dress before this, he was now unsure of how she got into it. Juan contemplated the garment as he tried to resist again. But the fight against his desire could have only one outcome. He lifted his thin arms up over his head, and let the camisole enclothe his slight frame. Again, his mother's camisole was too large for him but this time its size accentuated his figure. The folds of glossy black fabric draped over his torso, suspended from a ring of intricately patterned lace. It reached almost to his knees. "Awesome!" he murmured as he surveyed himself again. His bare skin tingled. The heightened titillation of his already stimulated flesh electrified the twelve-year-old boy. The thrill was unimaginable. It could be a dress, a ball gown, or even a nightie. Again he rummaged through his mother's dresser. Each piece of new apparel was both fascinating and exciting to him. In the second drawer he found the photographs and for a brief moment wondered why his mother had kept them there as he picked them up. In its own way, the discovery of the photographs was as much a revelation on that Friday afternoon as anything else. Little more than a week earlier he had posed for Bruce. Only six polaroid photographs remained because two had been given to Luchiano the next day. In each photograph, his unattired body confronted him in increasingly lewd positions. Stripped of his innocence, Juan had cavorted stark-naked. Before the camera he was unnaturally aggressive. In the first picture Juan lay back in the pillows, his legs wide apart as he flaunted his genitals. It was not the first picture that Bruce had taken, that picture was gone forever. Still distrustful and shy before the camera, Juan had turned away, giving only a glimpse of his face. Yet there had been the mischievous smile of a self-conscious boy whose perfect body was modestly revealed. Juan reluctantly admired the boy in the picture, reserving his judgement that he was actually as beautiful as he appeared. By the time the next picture was taken Juan's apprehension had begun to fade. He had turned to face the camera. His head was bent forward and his long hair cascaded over his forehead and partially concealed his face but little else was hidden from view. His hands were on his hips with one finger from each lying in the crease between his thigh and belly as if pointing downward to his genitals. By the time the next photo was taken his inhibitions had all but dissipated. On Bruce's instigation he had begun to fondle himself and he saw a close-up of his lower belly and groin. In the very center was his small penis, held precariously with one finger and his thumb. At first his feelings were ambiguous as he gazed at the picture. Then, for nearly minute he grappled with the undeniable image of his sex as he tried to avoid what now confronted him. Though barely realized, what he felt was resentment. He found no pleasure in the photograph. His genitals had suddenly become a loathsome, misshapen appendage on his body. Juan placed the photograph at the back of the pile and looked at the last one. He was immediately drawn to this photograph. Unlike the previous photograph that had captured his deformity in its entirety, there was no sign of his sex--though the picture was anything but sexless. Again, upon Bruce's suggestion and after some cajoling, he had turned onto his belly and positioned himself in a frog-like crouch. However, unlike a frog, he reached behind himself to expose his posterior in a welcoming spectacle of parted buttocks and a small orifice that appeared, upon closer scrutiny to be abnormally large. Although he had been embarrassed at the time the photograph was taken, he was now awed. For Juan, the image that he now confronted was neither aberrant nor unnatural. The picture, and its consequences, were so exciting that it alarmed him. He gazed at it uncertainly as his dilemma gathered momentum. As he remembered the feelings he had discovered during the last week he shivered. He shivered with the same anxious thrill that he had experienced only a few minutes earlier as he stepped into his mother's underwear. He shivered as he remembered the pain that had become so pleasurable that it seemed as if he existed only for a single purpose. It no longer mattered to him that it hurt terribly at first, his delight at being held by a man and becoming the receptacle for his penis was reward enough. Juan's young body tensed as his sphincter tightened instinctively. It squeezed on the special place that he had discovered and he sighed quietly. His attention turned back to the dresser and he dropped the photographs into the drawer, unconcerned whether they were in the same place. He picked up the tube of lipstick and leaned towards the mirror. Juan had watched his mother often enough to imitate her make-up. His hand began to shake as he removed the metallic-gold cap and slowly brought the vivid-red point up to his perfectly shaped lips. His first attempt was clumsy and he smeared his upper lip but he persisted. The end result of his endeavor was crude and distorted, a parody of his mother's expert application. He studied his ungainly reshaped mouth in the mirror curiously. The effect was inelegant but he was not disconcerted. He picked up the shallow pan of eye-shadow and the plastic brush that lay beside it. The hue was a vibrant mix of purple and brown, a color that suited his mother's darker complexion but one which was too intense for his own skin and softer features. That did not stop him however and he brushed heavy-handed and inept strokes under his eyebrows. His face became a caricature as he imitated his mother, concealing his natural beauty with a graceless and inexpert embellishment. It was only after he had stepped back from the mirror to examine the complete transformation that he saw the clock and realized how late it was. He had five minutes before Bruce arrived to pick him up. Jolted, Juan hurriedly tugged his mother's underwear from his body and ran naked back to the bathroom. He soaped his face thoroughly to remove all traces of cosmetic before he picked up his clothes and went back to his own room. He dressed quickly, choosing to wear his aged track-suit over his new sport-briefs and pack his jeans and shirt in his gym bag just in case Mister Luchiano took him to dinner. The door bell rang once, paused a few seconds and then rang again with a strident impatience. Juan ran from his bedroom back into the bathroom, grabbed his toothbrush, and brushed his now-dry hair again. He dashed for the front door as the bell began to ring continuously, collected his Rams jacket, and ran for the stairs as the door slammed behind him. "What took so long, mate?" Bruce demanded as Juan got into the car. Bruce accelerated and the Camaro leaped forward, its wheels spinning on the gravel that had broken away from the edges of the parking lot. "Sorry," Juan acknowledged. "I had to do somethin' first," he added. "Yeah, sure you did. You showered didn't you?" Bruce asked angrily. "Goddamn, we're going to be late. What were you doing up there?" he smirked. "I bet you were wanking yourself, you little poofter." Juan shook his head vigorously. "You've been getting that cute little ass of yours ready for action like I told you, haven't you?" Bruce challenged. He smiled at Juan as he pulled onto the street. "How's ya jack, mate?" "My jack?" Juan asked uncertainly as he stuffed the gym-bag between his legs. "Yer ass kiddo. You know, your bung-hole, dopey! Does your butt still hurt?" Juan shook his head again and looked away. He turned his head to watch his apartment building disappear. As he wondered whether Jamie was home from school, he felt a strange sense of deja-vu and a cold chill came with a feeling that he would never see his home or his brother again. "It's okay," the boy muttered. "It doesn't hurt anymore. I did what you said. You know, with my fingers back there." "Great, mate. Now listen, Luchiano wants things a bit different this time, okay. You were all right last time, but not great. He told me you cried. When he wants to stuff you, damn, you don't say no again, do you understand?" "But Bruce, it hurt really bad. I told you it was the middle of the night when he wanted to. I did it the next morning when he wanted to," Juan complained. "Don't whine, boy. Luchiano's paying big bucks for you and he expects to get his money's worth. There's any number of kids willing to get knocked off for what you're getting. If he wants to fuck your ass twenty-four hours a day, then you let him. You don't cry about it again, understand?" Juan tried to block out what Bruce was saying and he stared at the passing cars. He watched with resentment as they went past a van with a woman and two children in it. The boy in the back seat was about his age. Inwardly he sighed and wondered why life had been so unfair to him. Slowly he turned his head, bringing his attention back to the car he sat in. "Okay," Juan answered glumly. "You don't know how bad it hurts afterwards. He's bigger than you are." "Yeah I know how it feels. It doesn't hurt all that much and he's not that much bigger than me. I was screwin' with him before you were born, remember?" Bruce glanced at the pretty though pitiful boy beside him. "It'll feel better in a few weeks, mate," he added quietly. "Once you get used to it, it doesn't hurt that bad." "Yeah, sure," Juan replied. "I guess," he added without conviction. "Are we going to the same place in Venice again?" "Nope! Luchiano wants you out at some fancy hotel in San Bernadino this time." "That's miles away. Why do we have to go all the way out there for?" Juan asked. "It was kind of fun at the beach," he admitted as an afterthought. "Don't ask me, mate! I'm just the chauffeur, aren't I. Now listen. This time it's going to be different," Bruce said as he reached the on- ramp to the Harbor Freeway. "Different? How?" the boy asked curiously. "You're going to do a bit of acting for tonight," Bruce replied. "Luchiano wants to get you on video. I guess so he can watch you on telly during the rest of the week. I think he's got the hots for you, mate," he teased. Bruce stabbed at the brakes as an old Pontiac swerved into his lane. "Fuckin' hell, these wogs can't drive," he swore angrily. Bruce leaned on the horn in futile protest and then glanced back at the demure boy beside him. "What's the matter, mate? You're not afraid of flashing your gorgeous little bum on the boob-box, are you?" "Uh? No, I guess not," Juan responded. He blushed immediately. Bruce chuckled at the boy's embarrassment. "Get used to it, Juan. Luchiano always gets what he wants. All you have to remember is to do what I tell you." "Yeah, sure. Just tell me what I have to do." Juan paused thoughtfully. "He wants to watch me get fucked doesn't he?" he asked. "You're not wrong, and I bet it'll be worth watching too, mate. But then I've seen you get your arse filled before, haven't I? Still, I won't mind seeing it again. Oh! Oh! Mister Luchiano, do it harder! Oh! Oh! Faster, man!" the man taunted as his pelvis bucked in a rude imitation of intercourse. "You're going to be there?" "I'm the photographer," Bruce added. He licked his lips suggestively. Juan looked at the man with contempt and shrugged dismissively. Bruce grinned triumphantly. "You're a real creep sometimes," the boy retorted. Bruce laughed and put his hand into a paper bag that lay between the front seats. He pulled a small carton and tossed it into Juan's lap. "Here, you're going to need these tonight." Juan studied the box for the few seconds it took to realize its contents. "I've still got two rubbers from the last time," he said. "So? There's ten more in there. I'm sure you and Luchiano can find a use for them. Just remember what I said." "Yeah, I know," Juan interrupted. "I gotta use one every time I do it, no matter who it is. Except you said that if I love the guy, then it's okay." "That's not what I said, mate. You want to die young, is that it? I said if you do it without using a rubber on his bloody cock, then you better love him enough to trust him with your life, because that's exactly what you're doing. Don't be a stupid little bugger," Bruce said angrily. "Every time a guy's tool goes up your arse, you're playing Commie Craps." "What?" "Russian Roulette! You know what that is, don't you?" Bruce replied. "Yeah, I know" Juan answered impatiently. "And I'm not stupid!" "I know you're not, but kids can still do stupid things at your age. Just remember what I said! Every fuckin' time, mate! It doesn't matter whether the dick belongs to one of your little buddies from school, a guy like Luchiano, or even me. You use a rubber no matter what, understand? No rubber, no dick gets in your arse, or your mouth, for that matter. You can jerk off all you want, but nothing goes inside you, either front or back!" "There's no need to shout at me," Juan answered. "Sorry, mate. I didn't mean to get angry. You've still got plenty of K-Y left, haven't you?" "Yeah," the boy responded sullenly. "We didn't use all that much last week." "That's probably why it hurt so much. Try putting some inside yourself first," Bruce explained patiently. "Luchiano never was much for lubin' the tube before hand. I guess he likes some fuckin' friction." They sat quietly for several minutes as Bruce concentrated on manoeuvering through the fast-moving traffic. They were just past the Santa Monica Freeway before Bruce spoke again. He reached back into the paper bag and removed a large bottle full of small white-colored pills. "I've got something else for you, mate," Bruce said quietly as he passed the bottle to Juan. "These will help, if you want them?" "Shit, man, I don't do drugs. I told you I'm not stupid," Juan retorted angrily. He twisted away and pushed the bottle towards Bruce. There was a interminable silence as he stared out of the window. "Only dummies do drugs," he added righteously as he repeated the standard phrase from school. "They're not that kind of drug," Bruce expounded. "Don't worry, you won't get high from taking them. You said you wanted to be a girl,... if you really want to, well then, these will help." Juan turned swiftly with his mouth wide open in surprise. "These will make me into a girl?" he asked breathlessly. "I didn't say that, mate. I said they will help, that's all. No pill is going to make your dick and balls drop off. You're stuck with a dick, but it hasn't got to be a big one." "I don't understand," Juan questioned as he picked up the bottle with growing enthusiasm. "What use are they? What do they do then? What's this Des-junk mean?" he added as he pointed to the typed label, 'Deslorelin'. "These little dudes will put the brakes on your balls, so to speak. They'll stop you from getting bigger down there. Hell, you might even get tits after a while. But believe me, these pills are fuckin' expensive, even when they're brought in from Mexico like these were. If you don't want them, I'll take them back and save the fuckin' money." Bruce reached out as if to take the bottle back. Instantly, Juan moved the bottle out of reach and held it tightly. He studied the bottle silently as he breathed deeply. "You mean I just take these pills and my dick doesn't get any bigger. I stay just like I am now?" he asked and then added suspiciously, "For how long?" "I dunno mate. Let's say you take all of the pills in this bottle. How old are you now?" "Twelve," Juan grinned happily. "Today's my birthday." "Well, fuck me with a fence post. Why didn't you say something, mate? Happy birthday! Remind me to tell Luchiano and he'll give you a birthday prezzie," Bruce laughed as he gyrated his hips obscenely. "Hmmm, so if you're twelve now, and there's s'posed to be a thousand in there, well they should last you about three years. Maybe even enough for four years if you start out taking one every couple of days." "What should I tell my mom?" Juan asked anxiously. "She'll find out real fast and I know she'll think I'm doing drugs or something like that." "Not that she'd care," Bruce finished. "Don't worry about her. Just take the label off and tell her you're taking vitamins. You can tell her you're taking extra iron so you can get a harder dick for Luchiano. She'll understand. Not that your cock could get much stiffer." Juan nodded uncertainly, not sharing in Bruce's crude humor. "You really think I'll stay like this?" he asked hopefully. The boy's voice wavered as he wondered about his future and Bruce shrugged vaguely. "Maybe! You know, you can't be a girl no matter how much you might want to be, mate, but it'd be the next best thing for you. Of course, there may be some side effects," he added hesitantly. "Side effects? Like what?" "Jesus, I'm not a doctor. I guess you might stunt your growth. I mean from the look of you, you probably not going to be that big when you grow up. It'll probably stunt the growth of your dick too. The side effects are your problem, mate. Maybe the pills will even make you sterile, who knows?" the man laughed. "But then I guess that's not much of problem for you, is it? A poofter like you? You don't plan to get married and be a daddy, do you?" Juan shook his head and gazed curiously at the bottle of pills. Bruce chuckled as he answered for the boy. "No I guess you don't. Hell, then I guess the worst thing that might happen is you get turned off sex for a while. You might even have trouble getting a hard-on." "Mister Luchiano will be pissed," Juan giggled frivolously. "Don't bet on it, kid. Luchiano doesn't much care whether you're turned on or turned off, just so long as you pull your cheeks apart for him when he wants to stick his dong up you. Just pretend you're horny when he wants to stuff you, okay?" The man stretched back in his seat, straightened his arms like a racecar driver, and smiled at Juan. The boy fumbled as he scratched the white, sticky label of the bottle using his thumb. Within a minute there was nothing left other than a smear of adhesive on the glass. "Yeah, just pretend you like to do it." Bruce chortled. "You won't have a problem anyway. He'll like you a lot more without hair on your dick." It was pleasantly warm in the afternoon sun that streamed through the side window as they headed east. Juan yawned and settled back in his seat. "How far to where we're going?" he asked sleepily. "Depends on the traffic," Bruce answered. "At least an hour at the speed we're going now. God, how I hate the afternoon traffic. It's a lot worse on Fridays. Must be all those damn Mexo's heading south for the weekend." "I'm going to sleep," Juan murmured. "You might as well because you aren't going to sleep much tonight," Bruce chortled. "Not on your birthday, that's for sure." He reached towards the boy and playfully squeezed the small soft mound of the youngster's groin. "Ooooh Juan! Let me put it up you, birthday-boy. Let me do it again," he snickered in a vulgar simulation of what awaited his small companion in San Bernadino. "Fuck you," Juan cursed mischievously.'You're not putting anything up me again." He grinned evilly. "Not unless you pay me first." "That's what you think. You've got to pay for my pills first. Hey, maybe I'll take it out in fucks. What do you reckon? Every time you pop one of those dudes, I'll pop you," Bruce gibed. The boy tensed angrily as he clutched the bottle possessively. "The hell you will. I'm not paying anything for these. You only want me to take them so Mister Luchiano will keep me around longer and you and my mom can get more money." "Believe what you want. Anyway, I didn't think you were that interested in old men. Luchiano is old enough to be your daddy. Hell, with your mother, he could even be your grandfather, mate. I'm surprised you wouldn't rather have a young guy like me humping your arse." Juan shrugged as he curled up in the bucket seat of the Camaro. "You said before, last week when you drove me to Venice, that there's nothing wrong with me doing it with him. He's okay, I guess. Anyway, I don't care that he's older than you." Juan closed his eyes. It was only a momentary pause. "He's okay!" he repeated with conviction. Chapter 6. The Luckiest Boy in LA By the time they arrived in San Bernadino, dark clouds were racing across the sky from the west. Long plumes of ragged cloud heralded the strength of the wind and the rain that was on the way. The first last drops splattered onto the windscreen as Bruce pulled into the driveway of the ElDorado Resort Hotel. There was a bustle of activity at the porte cochere, crowded with the arrival of weekend vacationers and golfers. Bruce parked the car as close as he could get to the main entrance to the hotel but it was still several rows back. He reached over and shook the sleeping boy's shoulder roughly. "Wake up mate, it's time to go to work." Juan struggled awake, rubbed his eyes blearily and looked around him. "Huh? Are we there?" He yawned sleepily and arched his back in a graceful, feline motion. "It's raining," he observed. "No shit! Looks like you're going to spend your birthday getting humped," Bruce guffawed. "No golf for you this weekend." "I don't play golf," the boy said flatly. "Why does he want me all the way out here, anyway?" "I already told you I don't know. Maybe Luchiano likes to play golf. Let's get on with it. You're already a half-hour late." Bruce opened his door and went to the rear of the car as Juan slowly placed the bottle of pills and the box of condoms in his gym bag. He was stiff from his sleep and he stretched his legs while he waited for Bruce to get a grey nylon bag containing the video camera from the trunk. He followed the man across the parking lot, swinging his bag in wide oscillations that came close to the ground. The boy went up the front stairs, not reluctantly, but with a dawdling pace that reflected his interest in the people milling about in the foyer. He watched with interest as two boys, obviously twins, about ten or eleven years old romped with an older man, who Juan guessed to be their father. The boys cavorted in, on, and over a large couch as they giggled and tickled each other and the man. For an instant, Juan felt strange. He did not recognize it as jealousy. "Stop dawdling, mate," Bruce said angrily. "I told you we were late." "Do we have to check in or something?" Juan asked as he saw the line of people ahead of them. His head swivelled as he glanced back at the twins and wondered why he did not have a father of his own. "No! Just follow me and shut up." Bruce whispered. You're staying in Luchiano's room and the last thing he wants is for people to know he's got a hot little boy-hooker up there tonight." Juan followed Bruce past the registration desk until they came to the elevators. Again he glanced back at the good looking boys frolicking on the couch. They were barely visible through the crowd in the foyer. As the elevator door opened, he realized that he was intensely envious. With a father of his own, he imagined he would not be standing where he was at that moment. He would not be dominated by his mother to the point where he was powerless, but mostly, he would not be uncertain about his desires, his sexuality, or even who he was. It was a slow ride to the top floor of the hotel. The elevator stopped at every floor as people got on and off. Only Juan and Bruce were left on board by the time the doors finally slid open on the roof- garden level. It was a very different place to the hustle and bustle in the foyer. Thick carpet sponged under their feet as they stepped out. Bruce looked one way and then the other as he endeavored to get his bearings. Juan looked around him with astonishment. He had never seen anything as beautiful as what lay before him. Before the elevator was a garden full of luxuriant plants but the centerpiece was a sparking fountain that cascaded in a azure-blue swimming pool. "Wow," he gasped. "This place is awesome, man." "Yeah. Luchiano likes his boys to be happy," Bruce replied. "Come on! maybe he'll let you go for a swim if you behave yourself." Now excited, Juan followed the man along the corridor. They passed several doors before Bruce stopped. He knocked gently and then stepped back. The door opened into a darkened room. Juan could discern the outline of a man standing silently beside the door as if seeking anonymity. He followed Bruce into the room. The door closed and locked securely behind him and he shivered impulsively as he turned around. The hall light came on and as it did Juan recognized the man beside him. Paul Luchiano studied him quietly as if inspecting merchandise before making a decision. He was attired in a bathrobe and from the open front it was apparent that he was otherwise naked. In those first few awkward seconds, Juan shivered again. On the way home the previous Saturday Bruce had made him was well aware of the man's power. Despite the passion that Paul Luchiano had for young boys, Juan was exposed to considerable danger. The boy smiled shyly at the man who demanded his young body for unnatural acts. "Hi Mister Luchiano," Juan said in voice that was barely above a whisper. "Hi kid. You found the place okay Bruce?" "I'm sorry about the delay, Mister Luchiano. The traffic was terrible," Bruce explained quickly. He walked several steps further into the room and turned around. "Nice place for a skin-flick," he added. Though Juan would never know, the room he stood in was in fact a part of the Christobel, a suite of rooms that doubled as honeymoon, executive, and even gubernatorial accommodation. Luchiano placed his arm around the boy's shoulder and guided him forward towards the open door of the bathroom with a gentle, though firm push. "Do you want to use the bathroom, kid? What's his name?" Luchiano asked as he glanced sideways at Bruce. "It's Carlo or Jamie or something like that. No, it's Juan isn't it?" Juan nodded diffidently. He was only momentarily disappointed that Mister Luchiano was unsure of his name. It seemed illogical that a man could have intercourse with him and still forget who he was. He did not think that he would ever forget the name of man who did that to him. He stopped in the doorway. "I don't need to use the bathroom, Mister Luchiano," he said. "I showered before I came." Luchiano turned quickly. "I didn't ask if you showered, kid. I told you to use the bathroom. I don't want shit on me again, understand. Go clean yourself out," he added angrily. Juan reddened and bolted into the bathroom. Shame swelled up inside him, matching the tears that immediately formed in his eyes. He swore silently to himself, pulled his sweat pants and briefs down, and sat on the toilet. Through the open door he could hear Bruce and Mister Luchiano talking in muted tones. "I brought the camera like you asked," Bruce said and then added apologetically, "You should lighten up on him. He's only just started doing this. Give him some time to learn." "Yeah, sure. Just don't ever bring me a kid who craps on my cock. And I don't want him crying again either. If he doesn't like it this time, he's finished as far as I'm concerned." There was a long silence. Juan strained, trying frantically to empty his bowel. Nothing came. His fists clenched in impotent rage as his frustration grew. He had followed Bruce's advice exactly, even skipping breakfast and lunch that day. Now he was hungry. He squeezed down again, exerting every muscle in his abdomen in a fruitless attempt to excrete. Then without warning, tiny hard beads of feces were eliminated and dropped like marbles into the water. The water splashed up, wetting his buttocks with cold droplets. Now relieved, his attention turned back to the conversation in the adjoining room. "I didn't say he wasn't good looking," Luchiano interrupted. "He's a beautiful kid. I haven't seen a body that gorgeous for years. You're right, okay!" "Just give him a few weeks, Mister Luchiano. He's a good kid." "Yeah, he seems to be," Luchiano added innocuously. "I guess I shouldn't have yelled at him. It's just that I'm under a lot of pressure right now. The fucking FBI is running my stuff off the street and what they don't get, the fucking Mexicans are taking. Then there's the goddamned blacks. I thought I had a deal put together with the Crips and they ripped me off for sixty thou'." "Just go a bit easy on the kid." Luchiano paused for a moment. "You know, I didn't intend to say that to the kid. I'm sorry about the long drive out here. I've got some action going down today and I need an alibi. Does the kid know about the video?" "Yeah, I told him. I don't think he's all that keen on getting his ass on the tube but I know he'll do whatever you want," Bruce said. "I hope so! He's a smart kid. If he does what he's told, he'll work out great. I know last time was an accident. Actually, you know, I like him a lot. Even without his weird dick, he's a lot different to the other kids." "He fucks pretty good too, doesn't he?" Bruce laughed. "So, is he worth the six hundred bucks?" Luchiano laughed. "Yeah, he's worth every cent. If he does whatever I want, I up it to a grand. But there's got to be no more tears." "Sure thing. His mom will be happy," Bruce replied. "Did you know it's his birthday today. It'll make a nice prezzie." "Yeah? The kid is what, ten, eleven?" "No! He's twelve." "Well, he looks a lot younger. I think he's the skinniest kid I've ever been with, but you know, that boy's got the cutest goddamn bubble- butt I've ever seen. Have you got that camera ready, yet?" Juan could barely believe what he had heard. Bruce had told him there was a lot of money to be made, but a thousand dollars. That was more than a lot of money. He would do anything the man wanted and he would never cry again. He stood up and wiped his hindquarters carefully, but that was only the first step. He walked to the vanity and turned on the hot water, adjusted the temperature, and rinsed out a wash cloth. He used soap and warm water, working the soap bar along the entire length of his crevice before wrestling one and then two of his slippery fingers into his anus. He dried himself off thoroughly with a large, fluffy towel. He was ready to leave the bathroom when he remembered Bruce's caution about lubricating himself. He opened his gym bag, removed the top from the K-Y tube and squeezed some over his fingers. The crystalline ooze was cold on that highly sensitive part of his body and he barely suppressed a yelp of surprise. Still, it felt good on his tender flesh as he massaged the gel into his small opening. Satisfied, he searched among his clothes in the bag to find one of the two condoms that were loose inside it. "Get a move on in there, Juan," Bruce commanded. Juan pulled his briefs and sweat pants up, slipped the condom into the pocket of his sweat pants, and walked back into the room. Luchiano sat on the side of the vast king-sized bed while Bruce reclined against the table as he fiddled with the video camera. Juan glanced at the two men, instinctively recognizing that he was the center of attention. Their eyes followed his every movement, absorbed in the seductive sway of his slender body and his alluring face. That he could beguile a grown man with an almost mesmeric power was something that Juan had realized only in the last week. He turned on his captivating charm. The boy smiled at Luchiano provocatively. From somewhere inside the twelve- year-old boy, a prepossessing maturity awoke. He closed the gap as he walked slowly across the room, not stopping until he stood only a few tantalizing inches away from the older man. From the corner of his eye he watched Bruce lift the video camera to his eye. He grinned with the most tempting smile he could manage, his dark eyes flashing as he entrapped his prey. "Do you want me to take my clothes off now?" Juan asked in a muted though audibly excited voice. He casually dropped his gym bag beside the bed. Luchiano and Bruce shared a quick, knowing look. There was no doubt that the boy was a fast learner. "Maybe you should undress the kid, Mister Luchiano," Bruce suggested. "Let's see him in his birthday suit." Luchiano's hands lifted up with deliberate slowness as the small red light on the top of the video camera began to flicker. His hands went to the boy's narrow hips and rested momentarily on the bony pelvis. His thumbs crooked inward and looped into the waist band of Juan's sweat pants. He stopped briefly as he felt the warmth emanating from the firm smooth flesh underneath and gently caressed the boy's belly. Juan smiled shyly and pressed forward. However, what appeared to be a visible indication of his willingness to go further was initially little more than a juvenile attempt to make Bruce jealous. Unseen and unrealized, the video camera recorded a time of 17:54:33, the precise instant at which Juan's pants were tugged down. What started as a teasing game quickly became increasing obscene. Within a few minutes he was totally naked, his clothes, socks and shoes discarded wantonly like a stripper. The last thing to come off was his briefs. He danced before the camera, swinging his hips languidly and he twirled the last vestige of his modesty in the air. As his erect penis bobbed proudly up and down, he balled the small soft clothe and tossed it towards the camera and climbed onto the bed. The time was 17:58:40. Before the camera, Juan's inhibition diminished rapidly and he became ever more intoxicated with the freedom of his naked body and the satisfaction of its effect on the two men. By 18:02:00, he no longer needed gentle prompting from either man. He cavorted with crude but immature lust, no longer afraid or ashamed of recording his sensual movements as he straddled Luchiano and thrust his thighs in a depraved simulation of intercourse. The faint whirring sound of the camera was barely heard, even by Bruce as he gazed at the monochrome image of the twelve-year-old boy. He zoomed in, focusing on the small, rigid penis and taut scrotum until it completely filled the viewfinder. Up close, the boy's still-unripened genitals were unbelievably beautiful in their hairless state. He watched as Luchiano's hand enclosed the small penis and after carefully retracting the foreskin, began to masturbate it. Juan's penis danced with a life of its own, throbbing with the vibrant energy of youth as the foreskin pulled back and forth over the flawed glans. Whether the blemish on the boy's otherwise perfect body caused Luchiano any consternation was unknown to him. He suspected it added to the boy's charisma. He zoomed back, keeping the camera centered at the object of his interest, until he could see both the man and the boy. At 18:10:30, Luchiano removed his robe with some assistance from his willing assistant. Juan grinned cheekily as he romped shamelessly about on the bed. That he was stark-naked before the camera was no longer of concern to him. He relished every touch on his bare flesh, his penis rampart and rock-hard as his heart pounded with unrelenting excitement. He straddled the man's thighs and brought their genitals together in an awkward embrace. Then like a jockey, he rode triumphantly as he rubbed back and forth with an urgent motion of his hips and thighs. "Hey Mister Luchiano, let me get some shots of his butt," Bruce suggested. "Kind of before and after, if you know what I mean." Luchiano laughed and tossed the boy onto his back. He held the youngster down with little effort. "God, he's horny, isn't he? Yeah, you better before it's too late." Both men laughed as Juan struggled playfully to escape. The older man grasped his ankles and pushed back, forcing his legs apart and against his belly. Bruce moved forward, zooming in as he approached the bed. "Now that's what I call a cherry," Bruce laughed. "Stick a finger in him, Mister Luchiano. He'll like that. Whoa boy! Take it easy!" Juan bucked as he felt his orifice penetrated. Other than the K-Y inside his rectum and the slight wetness that had escaped during his exertions, there was no lubrication. He yelped and tried to pull away from the finger that wanted to violate his inner sanctum, but his feeble struggles and pleas for mercy served only to further excite both men. Luchiano's finger jabbed at him and broke through the resistance of his sphincter. It was 18:15:45 when Luchiano's finger could go no further into the young body and his knuckles ground into Juan's crevice. Within ten minutes, Juan's anus was sufficiently dilated to easily accept two adult fingers. Every second was recorded. It began with the first minutes of his torture as he was forced open and his body resisted with painful spasms and continued through the gradual loosening of his small orifice and stretching of the hot tight tube of his rectum, to the writhing, frenzied ecstasy as his still-undeveloped prostate was prodded, stabbed, and massaged. At 18:25:40 he lay on his back, gasping for each breath and shuddering as his bowel sucked noisily on Luchiano's expert fingers. His penis became soft and partially withdrew into his abdomen and his scrotum became taut and wrinkled until it was little more than a shallow mound that emerged from his soft puppy fat. "He's not going to get much looser. His fuck hole is wide open," Luchiano observed as he looked towards the video camera. He noticed the large bulge in Bruce's jeans and laughed. "It certainly looks like you're ready. How's it look so far?" "Yeah, I'm all set," Bruce acknowledged with a smirk. "It looks great, Mister Luchiano. You could sell this. Why don't you get him on the edge of the bed, that way I be able to get it all on tape?" Luchiano responded by withdrawing his fingers. The suction was broken with a loud wet, pop and Juan grunted as his pleasure was interrupted. He glanced at the camera, frustration clearly visible on his face as much as an expression of 'look what you're missing, mate'. He felt himself being dragged across the bed, coming closer to the end until his buttocks hung out over the edge. The boy gazed up at the man who now stood before him. Luchiano's penis was engorged and reddened with the pressure of his erection. It was threatening and powerful and Juan wanted it. Releasing his ankles, the boy grasped his cheeks and pulled them apart as wide as he could. At the same time he lifted his buttocks upward, presenting himself for the man's pleasure. Juan's desire reigned supreme, all caution was gone and Bruce's warnings about always using a condom were forgotten. Luchiano moved and expertly directed his penis downward as he came into position. The tip of his penis was directly aimed at the boy's dilated orifice. Juan grinned, drawing his legs closer to his chest as he breathed quickly. His heart was pumping frantically and his bowel ached. He longed to feel the man's penis inside him. He felt the warm, hard fullness of it as it touched his anus and he quivered with anticipation. Even though it would hurt terribly at first, what came later was more than enough compensation for the pain. Even the bleeding didn't bother him, though he hoped it would not happen again. He felt the man's penis swelling against him, the pressure increasing as it sought entry through the narrow opening. He took a deep breath and pushed back as he tried to relax his body at the same time. He could feel it expanding, stretching, forcing its way inside. "You better put a rubber on, Mister Luchiano," Bruce said in a gentle reminder. "You can't be too careful these days, even with a boy like Juan. It just ain't worth the risk." Luchiano turned around. "Goddamn," he said resentfully. "I almost had the head in there too. Yeah, I guess you're right." Luchiano stepped back. His penis, released from it's appointed task, sprang upward and slapped loudly against the his belly. "You got one?" he demanded of the boy's pimp. "Juan's got them." "Well boy, don't just lay there. Go get one so we can start fuckin'," Luchiano ordered in rude jest. His desire thwarted momentarily, Juan twisted away and climbed off the bed. He found his sweat pants and removed the tiny cellophane packet. He held it out to Luchiano who smirked at the boy. "Well boy, put the darn thing on." Juan grinned back at the man and dropped to his knees. Luchiano's raging penis bounced before him. The huge, loose scrotal sac was swollen with the man's massive testicles. Unlike his own, they were covered with thick, dark hair. He remembered the man in the bathroom and it suddenly seemed like a long time ago. Silently, the boy leaned forward and brushed the red, hot glans with his lips. It was wet at the very tip and his tongue touched it, adding his own moisture as he tasted the sweet saltiness of the man's juices. Impulsively, his mouth opened wide and his head came forward to swallow it. "Put the bloody rubber on first, mate," Bruce interrupted. "Then you can suck and fuck it as much as you want." Juan glanced upward and smiled shyly, embarrassed at his own enthusiasm. He brought the package to his mouth and nipped the clear cellophane with his teeth before it tore it open and extracted the cream-colored rubber ring. Awkwardly he placed it on the blunt tip of the man's penis and tried to push it downward. His efforts were clumsy from inexperience but were exacerbated by his eagerness. He tried again and finally succeeded in getting it unrolled over the flared corona. After that, the going was much easier. At 18:31:30 the man's penis was suitably sheathed and ready for action. Juan stood up immediately, no longer as excited by the thought of having it in his mouth as filling the persistent void that seemed to exist inside his abdomen. He removed the tube of K-Y from his gym bag, climbed back on the bed, and resumed his previous position. Again Luchiano moved forward, depressing the end of his penis until it came to its target and with ease, the head began to burrow into the boy's opening. Again Juan took a deep breath and pushed back. He felt a sharp pain but it paled against the terror of deliberate and protracted force that was necessary to enlarge his anus enough to accept the man's penis. He waited for the suffering to end. The boy's agony was abruptly abbreviated only a second or two before the glans would have pierced him. The knocking on the door was loud and insistent and both men were startled. "Fuck! Who in the hell is that?" Luchiano swore loudly, his question directed at no one in particular. "I told them downstairs that I wanted no interruptions tonight." "It's probably the maid or someone," Bruce suggested. "You want me to get it, Mister Luchiano?" "Yeah! She's probably here to turn down the bed and collect her tip. Why don't you let her in so she can see me fuckin' the boy. Shit!" he added angrily. He stepped back and glanced around the room, quickly deciding that there was no hiding place. "Get in the bathroom, boy," he ordered. His desire circumvented again, the boy balked. He stared back at the man in disbelief. "Get moving! And take your clothes with you," Luchiano added as he reached for his own robe that lay on the other side of the bed. Juan hesitated, then realizing the urgency of his predicament leaped from the bed, his arousal vanquished. He grabbed his sweat pants and top, looked swiftly around the room for his briefs but did not find them, picked up his sneakers and socks, and ran into the bathroom as Luchiano finished putting on his bath robe. Luchiano started towards the door but stopped halfway and looked back. Other than the tube of K-Y lying on the bed, there was nothing to show what was happening only seconds earlier. "Get that lube out of sight," he said as he pulled the bathroom door closed. Bruce moved quickly. He placed the video camera on its side, grabbed the white and blue tube, stuffed it into Juan's gym bag and looked around the room again to make certain that all the evidence of depravity was gone. He listened to the sounds of a strained conversation in the hall. "What in the hell?" Luchiano demanded. "I told you to keep miles away from me." "Yeah I know. No one followed us. We checked the whole way. Donnie even got off the friggin' freeway four times. I thought we better come here, Mister Luchiano. I was sure that you'd want to know." "What's so dammed important that you couldn't tell me on the phone. You got Testa right?" Luchiano asked. "Of course we got him. Romano Testa is not going to be a problem again, boss. I got good three shots at him. I put two in his head for good measure, just about blew him to kingdom come, took out the back of his head and half of his face. A 45 magnum will do that." Luchiano laughed. "Good work, Eddie. That'll send a message to the fuckin' Mexicans to keep off my turf. No problems, right?" "Not really Mister Luchiano. We followed him to that apartment, the same one he always goes to on Fridays. It was just like you said, he had some hooker with him. They was fuckin' at the time when Donnie and me came through the door. He died with his cock hard and hot. She was kind of Asian-looking, a really pretty bitch for a whore. Kind of shame, actually. She couldn't have been more than twenty-five." "Did you kill her too? I don't want any witnesses, Eddie." "Of course. I think the first slug went right through Testa and got her as well. I made sure she was gone. There ain't no witnesses, Mister Luchiano." "You're not gonna guess what we found there, boss," Donnie guffawed. "You're going to be happy, Mister Luchiano," Eddie interrupted. He held out a briefcase. "There must be a coupla hundred grand in here. That's why we came out here. I knew you'd want to see it." Luchiano led the way back into the bedroom. He carried the briefcase. Thunder roared in the distance only seconds after the corner of the room flashed with the added illumination of lightening. The men were startled and Eddie's hand instinctively moved towards his breast. "What in the hell?" Luchiano swore. "I just knew it was going to fuckin' rain. I come all the way out here for some golf tomorrow and now it fucking rains. Still, this makes up for missing my tee-off." Another flash, closer than the last. Thunder boomed ominously. It was close enough to rattle the sliding door that opened onto the terrace. The first big drops of rain began to splatter against the door. "It must be for their next run to Columbia," Luchiano observed as he placed the briefcase on the bed, opened the metal locks, and lifted the lid. The briefcase was full of oblong packages wrapped in white plastic and taped securely. On one package the plastic had been ripped apart and the grey-grey engraving of a one-hundred dollar bill was visible. Luchiano counted rapidly in his head. There were two rows of six making twelve packages in all, each about two to three inches high. The briefcase was almost filled completely. "There must be $50,000 in each one," Luchiano mused. "That'd be six hundred grand. Those Mexican bastards are doing better than I expected. This doesn't make up for what they took from for the last few years but it sure helps." He grinned at the two other men and then glanced around, finally realizing that Bruce was still in the room. The boy's pimp was silent, regarding the men as he listened carefully. He leaned against the table, unaware that the red light on the video camera was still flickering. "You did real good guys. Maybe now I can afford my young friend," he added jocularly. Luchiano stared down at the money, still surprised at his good fortune, though gradually becoming suspicious. It seemed much too easy somehow. He lifted the briefcase up and dropped the packages onto the bed cover. His lips pursed thoughtfully as he examined the opened package. "The money looks okay," he thought aloud. "Old notes from all over the place, maybe its dyed, numbers aren't consecutive. It looks good," he repeated. Luchiano turned his attention to the now-empty briefcase. He had survived when others had failed simply because he depended on raw instinct and suspicion at such times. Getting the money as well as a successful hit made him cautious to the point of becoming irrational. He studied the briefcase carefully. It was an imitation designer model, labeled 'Coach', but made in any number of 'knock-off' shops in Mexico or even in L.A. It appeared harmless enough. Except for the inside lining. He felt a sudden despair as he began to pull at the inside corner of the lining where it had lifted away slightly from the side. It had been glued down, though not thoroughly enough. Angrily Luchiano ripped it away. Under the lid was a flat, grey box. It was wafer thin. He jerked it free, studied it for a moment and then savagely crushed it by slamming in hard into the edge of the table. It folded into a v- shape, splitting at the rear to expose two small batteries. "Fuck!" Luchiano swore. "You stupid, fucking idiots." "What is it Mister Luchiano," Eddie asked instantly. "It's not a wire, Mister Luchiano," Donnie added. "I can't see no mike or nothing." "Of course it's not a fuckin' wire, dumb-ass. There's no mike because it's a fuckin' FBI beamer. It only transmits location. Damn! You stupid bastards. They're are probably coming up the elevator right now," Luchiano said in growing panic. "Jesus! I'm sorry Mister Luchiano," Eddie grovelled. "I can get rid of it." "Too damned late for that." Luchiano took a deep breath to control his panic and steady his thoughts. He needed to act fast. "Okay, here's the plan. Eddie, you stick the money in the bottom of that gym bag over there. We'll send my young friend out with it. The cops probably won't stop a kid. And you Donnie, get out in the corridor and watch the elevators. I'll go talk to him. Now move!" Eddie and Donnie jumped, knowing that their lives depended on the speed at which they moved. Bruce watched, uncertain as to what he should do. He realized that he had just become an accessory after the fact to murder in the first degree. He was also a witness and his life also depended on his actions during the next few minutes. He thought quickly, evaluating his options. It was highly unlikely that Luchiano would let him leave with Juan and the money, but if he stayed it was likely that he would be dead by the next morning as Luchiano cleaned up the loose ends. "Mister Luchiano? What about the video?" Bruce asked nervously. "We should get rid of it as well, shouldn't we," he added hopefully. Luchiano spun around. "What? Oh, the video? Yeah, get rid of it. Stick it in the kid's bag as well. It'd be really dumb to get busted for kiddie porn." "I don't think it will fit. Besides it's pretty heavy." "Not the fucking camera you dope. Just the damned tape," Luchiano shouted as he opened the bathroom door. He did not need to turn the door handle. The door was partially open with several inches between the edge and the frame. He wondered how much the boy had heard. Juan had heard every word. When the men had talked about Testa's murder they had been right next to the bathroom. He felt no sorrow, no remorse, just a miserable wretchedness about what he had heard. There was no reason for him to lament the deaths of a man and a woman he never knew but he was distressed. He tasted bile in his mouth. Juan was more scared than he had ever been. He cowered against the vanity, still partially undressed as Luchiano came into the room. Juan wore his sweat pants, socks, and shoes and he sobbed uncontrollably as he tried to insert his arms into the top to locate the sleeves. He didn't know why he cried. He was just very frightened. "Stop bawling and listen," Luchiano said as he roughly shook the youngster's small shoulder. Juan nodded, wiping the tears from his face with the soft fleece of the top. "What did you hear?" he demanded. The boy stared at him dumbly as tears trickled down his cheeks. He shook his head in denial. "You heard, didn't you?" Luchiano asked again. Juan quavered and his eyes flickered in recognition. His head shook again as if he had no control over it. "It's none of your business, okay? Whatever you heard, you're going to forget. It never happened and you never tell anyone. If you do, you'll end up the same way." "Yes, Mister Luchiano. Whatever you say," Juan whimpered. "You're leaving here in a minute, kid. I'm asking a lot from you but I know you'll do fine. You're going to go to the fire escape at the end of the hall," he explained. The boy nodded obediently. "Okay, you go down three or four floors and then go out and take the elevator back down to the ground floor." Again Juan nodded as he sniffed loudly. "Good boy. Now I want you to wait there for fifteen minutes. If I don't come down and get you by then I want you to leave the hotel. You go out the front door. You should find a taxi somewhere around there. I want you to take it to this address and wait there for me to come get you. Here's some money for the taxi. You're a smart boy so you shouldn't have any problem." Luchiano passed a business card to the boy and watched as he read it and placed it in the rear pocket of his sweat pants. Juan swallowed, his throat was dry and his breathing was strained. Something was very wrong but he did not know what. "Okay, Mister Luchiano," he whispered nervously. "Good! Now here's five hundred bucks for today. I'll give you another five the next time I see you and we finish off what we started tonight. Now listen carefully. I've put something in your bag. It's something that's very important to me, understand. I don't want you to even open your bag. You give it to no one, you never put it down, okay? You keep it with you at all times." "What is it?" Juan asked uncertainly. "What it is, is none of your damned business, boy. You just keep it a secret and you don't tell anyone,... especially the cops, okay?" "Okay," Juan mumbled as he finally retrieved the sleeve that had been causing the major problem. "You're a beautiful boy," Luchiano said quietly as he observed the lithe body before him. His eyes were attracted first to the tiny nipples. They were soft and only slightly darker than the rest of the boy's smooth, sleek skin. There was very little muscle on the slender body, barely the slightest fullness to indicate his breast line. Juan's shoulders sloped downwards and accentuated the narrowness of his chest. His ribs were defined by upward curving lines that ended in the shallow depression of his sternum. His waist was tapered with a tiny navel that was slighted extruded. It made a delicately sculpted bulge in an otherwise flat belly before it disappeared under the sweat pants. He was perfectly proportioned. It was only with the greatest difficulty that Luchiano dragged his eyes up and cleared his mind of the anticipated ecstasy that come so close. "Once this is over, you and me are going to have ourselves some great times," the man acknowledged quietly. "I think we're going to become very close friends, you and I." "Yes, Mister Luchiano. I know we are," Juan mumbled again. He glanced up at the man just before he lifted his top over his tousled head. He smiled shyly as he also remembered what had almost happened in the adjoining room. "Yeah, and I'm really looking forward to it," he added softly. They left the bathroom together. As they came back into the bedroom Luchiano's arm was around Juan's shoulders. It was both comforting and reassuring to the boy. He smiled at Bruce. Eddie closed the zipper of Juan's gym bag and handed it to Luchiano. "Hey boss, what should I do with the gun?" he asked. "What?" Luchiano growled. "Don't tell me you brought the fucking gun here as well. I told you to lose it." "We didn't have time, Mister Luchiano. We came straight here," Eddie explained anxiously. He scratched his head nervously. "I'm sorry, boss." "Give it to me, you idiot," Luchiano demanded savagely. He reached for the proffered weapon. As he took possession, he glared at it. The 45 caliber Smith and Wesson Magnum was a heavy gun but one whose balance was honed to a high degree. "I ought to blow your fucking brains out Eddie." Luchiano sighed and opened the zipper of the gym bag just far enough to slip the revolver inside. He slid the zipper back and passed the bag to its owner. "You take good care of this bag, boy, and I'll always take good care of you." Juan nodded obediently. Yes, Mister Luchiano. I promise." Again he smiled docilely at his benefactor. "What are we gonna do about the briefcase, Mister Luchiano? And this here camera?" Eddie asked as he picked up the video camera. "Put the friggin' camera in the fucking case. He's taking them out of here when the kid leaves," Luchiano said as he pointed to Bruce. "Now get the hell out of here. Use the stairs at the other end of the building," Luchiano added as he shoved Bruce towards the door. "I'll call you tomorrow morning to arrange for someone to pick it up again. Otherwise, you're dead!" At precisely 18:36:43 Juan and Bruce left the Christobel and headed quickly for the fire stairs located at either end of the building. There was no time for farewells. As Juan turned the corner in the corridor he could hear the elevator opening a hundred feet behind him. There were muted voices of several men. He started to run. He turned the handle and opened the door into stairwell. As the door started to close behind him, he grabbed it and carefully eased into the jamb. In less than fifteen seconds his pulse had rocketed and he was panting. He listened carefully, trying to slow his breathing so that he could hear. Nothing. He started down the stairs. He placed his feet on each metal tread as lightly as possible but still the noise seemed deafening. One flight of stairs, then the next. He felt his hands shaking and he clenched them tightly, locking the strap of his gym bag in death grip. He paused on the next landing and tried fruitlessly to slow his breathing and frantic heartbeat. A door slammed, one story, maybe two above him. He panicked and began to run, leaping from one stair to another, finding the next step several risers lower. He pivoted at the landing and nearly slipped as he started down again. Another flight of stairs and then another. "I think someone's on the stairs," a voice shouted from above him. He stopped and pressed back against the exit door. He could hear footsteps clattering loudly as his pursuer took up the chase. He turned the door handle and the door swung open behind him. For a second he stood there thinking. Mister Luchiano had said go down five floors. Was this five floor? What if he was on the wrong floor? No, Mister Luchiano said three or floor floors so it probably didn't matter. He had to get to the elevator. Although the loud cracks, unmistakable sounds of gunfire coming from a 38 caliber S&W Police Special, echoed resoundingly against the bare concrete walls of the other stairwell, Juan didn't hear them and even to the Eldorado guests, it sounded like more thunder. As the door closed automatically behind him, Bruce Denman died. Juan started back along the corridor at a jog but stopped at the corner. This floor was laid out similarly to the top floor where he had come from except that there was no garden or swimming pool. There also seemed to be a lot more doors. Concealed behind the corner, he carefully peaked out keeping his eyes as close to the wall as possible. His head darted back. There was a man standing at the front of the elevator. He wore a dark grey suit. Juan peeked again. The man was pushing the button, stabbing at it impatiently. Was he a cop? He could be but Juan didn't think so. Maybe he was a detective? Maybe he was with the FBI? The boy felt his terror building as he waited for the door at the end of the corridor behind him to open. He was trapped. Why Juan Fernando chose to knock on the door of room 737 remains a mystery, but of the 635 rooms in the Eldorado hotel he chose the right one. Chapter 7. The Man in Room 635 By six-thirty I had gulped down my dinner and returned to my room to continue my preparation for the next day. There few things that I like less than to dine by myself in a restaurant. However, this time was my own fault and a result of my own choosing. My research is one thing that I really enjoy, though it comes at a cost. Once or twice a year, my sponsors require a formal presentation and my participation in one of their confounded conferences. God how I hate conferences, and networking, and presenting papers, and listening to endless streams of other academic papers. I always dine by myself when I go to conferences. Frankly, I hate the people who go to conferences. They go to drink, talk about women, and deride other participants who are drinking elsewhere. There is one thing I like even less than people who go to conferences and dining alone; public speaking. At six-thirty, I had less than fifteen hours to go and a lot of work to complete before I took my turn at the overhead projector and lectern. My presentation was scheduled for the next morning at nine o'clock. Nine long months of work and God-only-knows how many hours of computer time would be presented in a twenty-page summary entitled, 'Laminar Flow on Synthetic Airfoils: A New Perspective Using Burton's Method of Simulation'. I was Burton. I picked up my highlighter and commenced underlining my notes for the third or fourth time. I wondered whether I should have had transparencies made of the definitions of the variables. There were too many equations. There were too many dependencies. I should have brought my lap-top. Maybe I could have demonstrated the results better than using graphs and an overhead projector. I wondered whether the audience would be interested to know that I could get a theoretical ten-to-twenty percent decrease in the drag coefficient just by using ______ [deleted in the interest of national security]. I smiled to myself. They would be. Twenty percent less drag corresponded to,... God, had I left the data on the aerodynamic implications behind in Galveston. I riffled through my notes and then breathed a long sigh of relief. I could imagine the excitement of the 'techies' from the USAF. Even the generals would be interested once it had been explained to them. Hell, I might even get some applause at the end of my halting and inarticulate presentation. I turned the page just as I heard someone knocking on my door. I did not expect any visitors simply because I had chosen to stay at the Eldorado. It was a deliberate decision to stay some distance from the Norton Air Force Base, well away from the other participants. As I walked to the door I wondered who it could be. Room service probably, I guessed. The child who greeted me was of indeterminate sex and race, though I estimated its age to be close to that of my youngest daughter, somewhere around eleven. However there was no uncertainty about one thing, the child was beautiful. In fact, the child was very beautiful, the kind of memorable beauty that carves out a place in your mind and can never be forgotten, or for that matter never fully reconstructed from memory. For several long seconds I studied the young person before me. The face was feminine with delicate features that were framed by a long, glistening, brown mane. Not Caucasian, not Asian, just very beautiful. But the child's hair was unkempt and in that respect more male than female. The child's clothes were also those of a boy--faded dark-blue sweat pants and top and ubiquitous, though expensive sneakers. "Yes?" I asked abruptly. "I think you have the wrong room," I added quickly. "Mister, I'm sorry." There was a long pause as the child struggled to catch its breath. The voice was high-pitched, almost soprano though scratchy as it continued to gasp for air. "You gotta help me, Mister." Now the child was more boy than girl. What was it that had resolved the ambiguity? I studied him again and realized that he was more beautiful than either of my daughters. I wondered again whether I was mistaken, perhaps the child was a girl. The hair was far too long for a boy. The soft lips and dancing eyes also bespoke of a gentleness that was unnatural in a male. He had been crying, that much was very evident. His reddened eyes were large with dark, liquid pupils, still moistened with his recent tears. He swallowed and I watched the small mound of his Adam's apple bob in his slender throat. I smiled at him. The child was most definitely a boy. He trembled, physically shivering as he waited for my response. "Please, Mister, you gotta help me," he begged. Perhaps it was the urgency in his plea for help that got my attention. "What's the problem?" I asked cautiously. I studied him carefully. I was not by nature, suspicious, but there was something about him that I found strangely threatening. "They're after me. Some men are chasing me," he answered breathlessly. He glanced over his shoulder and looked around behind him as if expecting someone in pursuit. He trembled suddenly and I watched his face become pale. "I think I'm going to be sick," he gasped. He shuddered and his slender body seemed to heave as he lunged forward. I stepped back and he rushed past me. I heard him gagging as he choked back his rising vomit. I started to follow the boy into my bathroom but for some reason unknown to me, what I can only describe as the strangest sense of deja vu, I turned around and closed the door behind me. By the time I entered the bathroom I discovered the boy leaned forward over the vanity basin. He was still shaking as I approached him. Irrationally, I placed my arm around his fragile shoulders and steadied him. We stood side by side for more than a minute as he slowly regained his composure and his breathing became less frenetic. Finally he straightened up, visibly exhausted. "I'm sorry, Mister," he murmured, "Really I am. I feel okay now." "Are you sure? You don't look too good. I think you better take it easy for a while. Maybe even sit down," I answered. Even as I heard myself speak, I was aware of the tenderness in my voice. I had intended to be the voice of authority and escort him back to the door so that I could return to the more immediate demands of my work. Instead, I had just invited him to stay. I wondered what on earth was happening to me. All I could do was gently caress his shoulder as I gazed down at the soft, brown waves of his hair. "I'm really okay," he said quietly. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smeared saliva across his cheek. His hand came back and made another swipe, this time across his upper lip and past his nose as he sniffed loudly. I released him and pulled a towel from the coils of the metal rack attached to the tiled wall. "Here, I'll do it." I dabbed at his face with the dry, abrasive cloth for a moment before I realized that was not enough. His gym bag was lying on its side and was between me and the basin. I reached forward to move it to one side and the boy's hand darted out. For an instant he panicked as he dragged the gym bag away from me and closer to him. His hand shook unsteadily, still gripping the strap as I turned on the water, wet the corner of the towel, and proceeded to elaborate on my task. I took my time, wiping his forehead and cheeks and finally his small, slightly upturned nose. It must have tickled because he smiled weakly at me. It was a delightful smile, his dark eyes glistened and his trauma seemed to disappear. "That's better," I acknowledged as I dried his face. His closeness was exhilarating. I felt the warmth of his breath on my hands and the very life of his body seemed to brush against mine and stir something deep within me. I stepped backward hastily. "Thanks, Mister. Thanks for letting me use the bathroom, and everything," he said apologetically. Again the high-pitched voice pierced my mind and I was reminded again that he was far more like my youngest daughter than a young boy. I nodded gracefully as I accepted his all-encompassing appreciation. "No problem. But can you do me a big favor and stop calling me 'mister'. It makes me feel like an old man. Why don't you call me Matt?" I grinned at the boy reassuringly. "What's your name, anyway?" He hesitated guiltily and looked away. For a long time he seemed to forget who he was and then he shrugged as if he no longer cared. "Juan, I guess." "Hi Juan," I said and then added, "Why don't you come into the other room and sit down. If you want to, you can tell me what the problem is. Maybe I can help." I suspected that the boy had fabricated his story about men being after him, but in L.A., or at least being so close to L.A., who knew. His story seemed very unlikely however I had to admit that something had definitely upset him. He was still very scared. He nodded his acquiescence and followed me into the bedroom. He gripped his gym bag so tightly that I imagined that I could see the white of his knuckles. I sat on the edge of the bed and gestured for him to take the seat beside the small table that was next to the window. He flopped down and stared at the floor sulkily. "Now, what's the problem?" I asked. "There's no problem, Mister. Sorry!... Matt." He glanced up at me and our eyes met for an instant as he corrected himself and then he resumed his sorrowful stare downward. I smiled and shrugged. "Okay. It's just that you come barging into my room with some story about people chasing you, you're scared stiff, and you threaten to puke all over my bathroom, and now you say there's nothing wrong. Do you really expect me to believe that?" "I don't care what you believe," Juan mumbled ungraciously. "I already said thanks." "Maybe I can help, Juan. If you tell me what the problem is, I'll do whatever I can," I prompted unsuccessfully. He ignored me. I tried again. "A boy your age shouldn't be going into a stranger's room alone. Man, who knows what could happen to you. I could have been an axe murderer." That got a feeble laugh from him and he looked up again. "But you're not, Mister. Sorry, Matt. It's okay, really it is. As soon as I feel better, I'll leave, okay. I just need a few more minutes." I nodded sympathetically. "Do you want to call someone to come and pick you up? Like your father?" I suggested. That got a response but hardly the one I expected. He snarled angrily as he came quickly to his feet. He moved with remarkable agility. "I don't have a father!" "Oh! Well I'm sorry. How about your mother or someone else?" That was the wrong question again. He started towards the door, raising his voice as he went. Each word seemed to be torn out of him. "Get real, Man! She doesn't care where I am. She's a total, fucking bitch!" "Sit the hell down!" I shouted back at him, hoping that the adjoining rooms were unoccupied. My response was automatic. I had always had a short temper and my wife and two step-children had done little to improve it. The boy stopped and glared at me furiously. At this, I was more than confused about what to do next. I decide to placate him. I wanted to reason with him but above all, I wanted him to stay, even if only for a few more minutes. "I'm sorry, Juan. I shouldn't have yelled at you. Please sit down. I really would like to help you if I can." That was the right approach. I watched his expression soften. The distress that had contorted his expression into one of utter contempt and rage seemed to fade and he slowly relaxed. He smiled faintly. "My mom is a bitch," he said haltingly. His voice was little more than a pained whisper. "I hate her." I was stunned by the sound of loathing in his young voice. I wondered about my own voice, it was both surprisingly sincere and affectionate. It was as if I wanted this boy to trust me more than anything else in the world. All thoughts of my morning presentation and the trauma that accompanied it had gone. I wanted to help Juan. "I'm sorry, Juan." I rasped my fingers into the palm of hand as I tried to find the words that would break through what still appeared to be an impenetrable barrier. "That's okay." "Why are they after you?" I asked gently. "I don't know." "Did you steal something?" Given the way he continued to clench it, the gym bag looked very suspicious and was a likely contender as the hiding place for stolen property. The boy shook his head in denial. I believed him. There was something about the sensitive face and the tousled hair that made me believe in him. "Then what?" I continued helpfully. "Nothing. I don't know why." "Okay! Are they trying to hurt you?" "I don't know." "What happened?" Silence. I studied the boy closely and began to sense the enormity of the problem within him. He was fighting me. He was fighting himself. He was scared stiff. "I think a man was chasing me." "Chasing you? Where? Here in the hotel?" "In the stairway." "Oh!... Do you want me to call the police?" "No!" Juan bit his bottom lip He breathed out with a long, painful sigh. "You've got to help me to help you, Juan. Why shouldn't I call the police?" Silence again. "Were the police chasing you?" Juan trembled and started to move towards the door. "What did you do?" "Nothing! I didn't do anything! I don't know." "Okay! Come back and sit down." Juan shuffled hesitatingly back to chair and flopped down again. For a moment I wondered why pre-teen boys and girls insist on dropping inelegantly from a standing position into a sitting position. "Do you feel all right? You look very pale." "I'm okay. I guess I'm just hungry, that's all." "Do you need some money for food?" Juan shook his head and dug in his back pocket. My eyes opened wide as he flashed five one-hundred dollar bills before me. "I guess that answers that question," I laughed. "But it's never a good idea to go around flashing money in front of strangers. Especially that much money." "I figure I can trust you, Mister,... Matt." He grinned back at me. "If you can afford to stay in this place, you aren't going to steal money from a kid like me." I laughed again. Little did the boy know that my hotel room was paid for the US Department of Defense. "Well it's still not a good idea. Do you want me to order you up some food?" His eyes opened further and he grinned again in anticipation of filling his hungry stomach. It had been twenty-four hours since his last meal of any magnitude. "I can eat here?" he queried. "I don't want to go downstairs, at least not yet." "Room service will bring it up here. What would you like?" "I can pay, Mist,...Matt," he suggested and then smiled. "Anything would be great. I'm starving. A hamburger?" he added hopefully. "Don't worry about it. Uncle Sam will pick up the tab," I said as I walked towards the telephone. I ordered too much food, at least according to Juan. But he was obviously hungry and his arguments to the contrary, I went ahead and ordered two 'El Toro specials', also known as a cheeseburger and fries, a large coke, and an apple pie and ice-cream. I walked back to the bed and resumed my place. Juan's face was expressionless but I could sense his consternation. Among his other pressing though unspoken problems, he was appreciative and he could not find a way to tell me. He brooded silently and I returned to my work although my attention was split between trying to memorize the major points of my presentation and the boy who had now curled up in my lounge chair. His question interrupted my train of thought, which was somewhere between the drag dynamics of high altitude reconnaissance aircraft and the repetitive distraction offered by a very slender young boy. At 75,000 feet and Mach 2 and above, drag could still be as much a problem as it was at low altitudes and fighter-interceptors like the F-16. Every few seconds my eyes flickered as my attention was diverted to Juan. "What are you doing?" "Huh? Oh! I'm working on a paper that I have to present tomorrow morning," I answered absently as I endeavored to refocus my thoughts. "Are you from L.A.?" His soprano voice sang in my ears with reedy though musical disruption. "Me? From L.A.? No! I live in Galveston. Do you know where that is?" I replied as I shoved the papers to one side and looked at him. He smiled sheepily. "It's in Texas, like it's on the Gulf of Mexico, right?" I nodded with surprise. So much for the propaganda put out by the National Geographic Society that today's kids have no knowledge of geography. He followed up immediately with another question. "What are you doing here? Are you on holidays?" "I already told you. Well kind of," I corrected. "I'm here for two days. I came to present a paper at a conference tomorrow morning." Juan grinned and shifted into an even more comfortable position in his chair. His legs draped over one armrest while his back was against the other, he was the image of absolute indolence and very unlike the frightened boy who had pushed his way into my room. I began to sense that this was one very complex boy. Again I wondered what his problem was and what had caused the terror that I had observed only a few minutes earlier. I went back to work reluctantly. Another question came before the minute was out. "What kind of paper is it, Matt?" "It's got to do with making planes fly more efficiently," I replied. It was a gross oversimplification but there was no point in describing the complexities of polymers and air friction to a boy who couldn't have been more than ten or eleven years old. "How old are you, Juan?" I asked without even thinking. "Twelve." There was a long pause and again I tried to concentrate on my work. "My birthday's today," he offered. I smiled. "Well congratulations, Juan. Happy twelfth birthday." Immediately I wondered what a twelve-year-old boy was doing wandering around a hotel on his birthday. I tried to resume my study of the simulation results for the F-16 and then suddenly remembered that I had not really answered the boy's question. "I'm working on a certain type of polymer, that's a kind of plastic. It's very slippery, rather like teflon." "That's the stuff they put on the bottom of frying pans," he offered quickly. He hesitated and stretched himself out by arching his back like a lithe, graceful feline. "So food doesn't stick on it. If you painted it over an aeroplane it would probably make the plane fly faster, right?" I perked up and grinned at my young friend. "That's the basic idea. Only the polymer that I've been using is a lot better than teflon." "Can you fly planes as well?" "Fly? Me? Yeah, I used to. The last time I was at the stick was about ten years ago, I guess." "I'm going to be a pilot. My dad,..." he began and then paused, "My dad was a pilot. He used to fly Hornets,... uh, F-18's off a a flat- top out of Subic Bay," he announced proudly. I sensed that the boy was inventing his story again, however there was no way to be sure. I wondered how many boys knew the lingo and I suspected that many did. I nodded. "Your dad must be a good pilot, Juan. That's about as hard as it gets. I trained on F-5's for a while after I finished college. It was right at the end of Vietnam and they were brand new then. Talk about an awesome ride. Not like a Hornet, of course, but back then nothing came close to them." Juan nodded in return and thought for a moment. He breathed out slowly before he looked up. "I think my dad's dead," he said quietly. At that moment there was a knock on the door and a voice announced room service. I put my papers back on the bed and started towards the door. I stopped as my hand reached for the lock and I turned around. Juan had moved adroitly across the room and was partially concealed behind the bed where I had been lying only a few moments earlier. He grinned at me cheekily, waved his hand, and dropped from my sight as he slid downwards to disappear beneath the bed. He reappeared only seconds after the waiter, having delivered the tray and pocketed his two dollar tip, finally closed the door behind him. We were alone again. The boy closed on the food like a hungry vulture, circled the table, and pounced even before I had locked the door again. By the time I came back he was halfway through the first hamburger and had made a good-sized dent in the french fries. The Eldorado was not only generous in size but it was also evidently good tasting if one judged by the hungry smacks of his mouth masticating and the dribble of sauce that oozed down his chin. He grinned between bites, each time taking a mouthful that defied good manners and seemingly contradicted the size of his jaws. Watching Juan eat was a fascinating experience, a delectable diversion that was as enjoyable as the hamburger he consumed. It was only with the greatest will power that I turned back to my notes and the F-16 simulation results. "Are you married?" he piped almost as soon as my attention had focused on the numbers. I looked up, startled, though not in the least bit upset. Then, as I tried to remember his question, all I could think of were the other times that I had tolerated no interruptions. My impatience did not endear me to either my wife or my children. "You are, aren't you?" he followed up between loud chewing sounds. "You're gross!" I laughed. "Do you think you could try to eat with your mouth closed." Juan shook his head and took an absurdly large bite of the hamburger. I laughed again as it disappeared and then reappeared between the brilliant flash of his teeth. "I'm not gross!" he denied hotly. "Man, this is a great burger, maybe the best I've ever had. You're married, aren't you?" he asked again. "Huh? Who? Me? Married?" "Who do you think I was talking to? Your pillow?" he giggled cheekily. "Are you married?" he persisted. I shared his amusement. The very thought of him asking the pillow if it was married was suddenly ridiculously funny and we began to laugh. We laughed until we were hysterical, until tears formed in our eyes, until Juan almost choked on what remained of the burger. "Yes, I'm married," I finally choked out. "But not to my pillow," I added with attempted seriousness. "I guess not," he observed slyly. His smile grew to a smirk and then became a lewd grin before he finally collapsed and amid boisterous guffaws, proclaimed, "It'd be hard to do it with your pillow." "Do what?" I asked with barely controlled innocence. "You know!" he eventually managed. "No I don't! Do what with my pillow?" I feigned as I examined the pillow beside me with an exaggerated scrutiny. Juan snorted derisively as he struggled to control his laughter. "It'd be hard to do it,... you know,... it would be hard to FUCK it," he chortled. "I think it'd be a lot worse than hard, it'd be darned near impossible. Why don't you try it and see for yourself," I said slowly. I picked the pillow up, glanced sideways at my young friend, and sent the pillow flying in his general direction. It caught him on the side of the head with a glancing blow and we both laughed long and hard. I could not remember when I had laughed so much. It was only with the greatest difficulty that I managed to regain my composure and present a sense of mature responsibility. Juan was considerably more interested in puerile behavior. He swivelled around in his chair, managed to pick up the pillow with a contortion that defied human anatomy, and held it between his legs. Red-faced from his laughter, he met my eyes and with a salacious grin, pretended as if he was about to hump into the soft white mound. Even though things were rapidly getting out of hand, for a moment I contemplated letting him go unrebuked. I wondered how far he would go. The mere thought of seeing the boy become sexually aroused was both thrilling and frightening. With the utmost effort, I dragged my eyes away from his playful entertainment. "That's enough fun for now," I said sternly. "I've got hours of work to do, Juan." Reprimanded, he shuddered and the grin vanished from his face. "Sorry," he mumbled. He began to eat again, only slower. He was no longer the boisterous, excitable boy of a few minutes earlier. I preferred him the way he had been before I interrupted the game. He finished everything except one slice of tomato and half of a bun. He burped noisily, exhibiting the crudity of a pre-teen male enjoying life. I looked up again. It was impossible to be angry with him for more than a few minutes. He smiled shyly. "I'm sorry, Matt," he murmured. "Thanks for the burgers and all that." "That's okay. It was a pleasure," I added. His smiled widened immediately and he began to clean up the mess on the table. "Do you have any kids?" he asked curiously. "Huh? Kids? Are you asking me or the pillow?" I teased. "You? Let's not start that again. So do you?" "Two, kind of!" I replied. "What sort of answer is 'two kinda'? You either have them or you don't," he added. "Well, I'm not their real father," I explained. "They're both girls. There's Cassie, she's almost eleven, and Julie, she's, uh, fourteen, I think." "How long have you been their stepfather?" "Hmmm? Nearly four years, I guess. I think Cassie turned seven right after they moved in with me." "You like Cassie the most," Juan observed swiftly. "Is she pretty?" "Pretty? Yes, I'd say so." "I think you'd make a great dad," he said thoughtfully. "I think they're lucky." He considered me for a moments as he scratched the back of his head. "So what's you wife's name?" I laughed. "Hey what is this, twenty questions? Leah, if you must know." "It's cool! So, do you love her?" he asked with deceptive sweetness. There it was in the open, expressed so innocently by a boy who I had known for less than a half-hour. It was the most perplexing question that I had ever tried to answer. My answer was both confusing and disturbing. "I suppose so." I glanced down at my papers guiltily as I imagined that the boy had seen through my uncertainty and realized the lie for what it was. "Of course, I do," I ended with attempted conviction. Our eyes met at the precise instant that someone knocked sharply on the door. Juan raised his eyebrows quizzically and pointed at the tray on the table beside him. Room service again? I doubted it and from the expression on the boy's face it appeared as if he shared my consternation. Needlessly I raised my finger to my lips and got to my feet. The knock was repeated. Perhaps it was the abruptness of it that made me cautious. The sound was loud and demanding. "I think you'd better hide," I whispered. Juan nodded and pointed to the bed again. I shook my head. "That's the first place someone would look." The boy blanched and swallowed uneasily. "The bathroom? I could get in the shower?" he suggested immediately. His voice, though muted, was anxious. Juan was as edgy as I was. There was another knock on the door. Again I shook my head. "That's the second place." I glanced around the room. There were no hiding places. Even the closet was open. Without doors, the racks of shelves and rail were visible even from the entry door. The only hope of concealment was outside the room. I stepped past Juan as he picked up his gym bag, pushed the thick brocaded curtains to one side, and fumbled with the latch. It had been some time since the sliding door had been opened and it jammed in its track after I had opened it less than a foot. But twelve inches was more than wide enough for my young friend. Through the opening, the noise of rain seemed deafening. It came in sheets, driven by gusts of wind that hammered against the door. Juan slid past me, out into the rain and the darkness of the balcony beyond. With some difficulty I closed the door after him and secured the latch, rearranged the curtain, and started towards the door. "Okay! I'm coming," I shouted in response to yet another knock on the door. Chapter 8. The Drowned Rat I opened the door without bothering to check in the peephole. Three men were in the corridor. They were already several feet back from the door and on the point of departure. The man who stepped forward first was an assistant manager-type from the hotel. He wore the same burgundy-colored jacket and gold-figured insignia as all the hotel staff. "Excuse me, sir. I'm very sorry to disturb you but...," he said apologetically. I interrupted him. "Yes, I'm sure you are. What's the problem? I'm very busy," I returned angrily. "I'm sorry sir. These gentlemen are with the FBI. They're in the process of searching the hotel. If it isn't a problem they would like to take a look inside your room." I swallowed anxiously. I had not expected the FBI. I wondered what Juan had done. It did not seem possible that he would be involved with a Federal crime. It was inconceivable that he had done anything that bad. Shoplifting perhaps, maybe even snatching a handbag, but nothing worse than that. "I guess so," I answered hesitantly. "Just be quick about it. I have a lot of work I need to do tonight." I backed away and stood to one side as the two FBI agents entered my room. It was a cursory inspection for there was no where to hide other than under the beds or in the shower. One man, the taller of the two stopped before the sliding door that opened onto the balcony. Again I swallowed and desperately tried to control my panic. "Who are you looking for?" I asked edgily. I wondered whether they could sense my agitation, even I could hear the querulous note in my voice. The tall man glanced back at me irritably. "A boy! Maybe ten or eleven. He's dressed in sweats and probably carrying a bag of some sort." "A boy about ten?" I asked incredulously. "What on earth has a kid that age done to bring in the FBI?" "Sorry sir," he replied with overstated politeness. "I'm not at liberty to discuss that. There's a balcony outside, isn't there? Would you mind if we looked outside?" He stepped towards the door and my heart sunk even further. His hand reached out and, like me, fumbled momentarily with the latch. I needed a diversion, anything to distract him. "Um! Look I really have to get back to work," I said as I turned to the hotel staff person. "Don't you need a search permit for something like this?" "Not when we have your permission to search, sir. Besides, it'll only take a minute more," the other FBI agent insisted. "Then we'll be out of the way and you can go back to work." "Well I'm very busy right now." I gestured to my papers spread haphazardly across the bed. "What are you working on, sir?" the agent asked in a feeble attempt to distract me in return. "It looks very interesting." "Sorry, it's classified. I doubt if you have the clearance, even in the FBI," I responded craftily. "In fact you shouldn't even be in here." Under other circumstances my ploy may have been successful but even as I considered pursuing it and ordering them out, the door slid open and the tall man peered out into the pouring rain for several seconds before he turned back into the room. "Nothing, Max! It's raining like crazy out there. The kid must have gone down another floor or two. Gerry only thought he came out on seven. It may have been level six." The tall agent closed the door again and relatched it and the three men started towards the door. It was still open and they passed through after extending their gratitude for my cooperation. I locked the door after them and took a deep long breath. My heart was pounding frantically and I ran back to the window. For the second time in about two minutes I clumsily attempted to open the latch. It jammed in a half- open position and refused to turn any further. "Goddamn," I swore loudly. My struggles were ineffectual and I became increasingly frustrated as I turned and twisted the aluminum catch to the point of metal fatigue. It was impossible that Juan had been on the balcony and not been seen. Then, without warning the latch turned and I slammed the door back. The rain was a torrential downpour and I stepped out, oblivious to its force. Within a few seconds I was literally soaked to the skin. There was no sign of the boy. I stared fruitlessly at the balcony rail and seriously wondered whether he had jumped. The mere thought sickened me and I shuddered with revulsion as I approached the handrail and peered over into the blackness. "Juan," I called as loudly as I dared. I sensed the boy's presence before I actually saw him. He was clinging to one of the three diamond-shaped metal panels that made up the face of the balcony railing. His bag was slung over his shoulder, his fingers clenched the metal tubing with desperation, water streamed over him and cascaded in rivulets down his face. The boy looked up at me and smiled cheekily. "So, can I come inside again if I promise to behave myself?" "God! You're soaked!" I exclaimed as I reached down to him and grasped him firmly by the arms. "No shit, Matt! It's raining if you didn't notice," he grinned back at me. "Maybe you ought to stay here tonight," I teased. "Here? Hell no! I guess they've gone?" he asked uncertainly. I lifted the boy upward and swung him bodily over the railing. Even thoroughly soaked, he was not heavy. Then, as his feet reached safer ground he grinned at me with sincere appreciation. "Thanks, Matt," he panted in relief as he wiped his forehead. There was a constant stream of water dribbling from his hair. He looked like a small drowned animal that one might find after a storm. You're very welcome, Juan," I returned graciously. "You look like a drowned rat, you poor thing." I locked my arm around his slender shoulders and was at once startled by the apparent fragility of the boy. He was shivering and his teeth chattered. Even as I escorted him back into the room he began shaking. The extent of his stress was very disturbing. With every step Juan became more disquieted until he was trembling uncontrollably. Water dripped from both of us as we entered the room. It was impossible to tell where the rainwater ended and his tears began. He sobbed endlessly, wailing from deep inside his chest with a fearful moan. That sound frightened me more than anything else that evening. I felt helpless as I regarded the young boy. He needed my support but I was unsure of what I needed to do beyond drying him off and getting him warm. With my arm reassuringly around his shoulders, I guided him into the bathroom and positioned him so that he leaned against the vanity. The bag dropped from his shoulder onto the floor. He was too exhausted to care what happened. I lifted his water-saturated top upwards, dragging it over his head and along his thin, tanned arms. It fell to the floor in a sodden heavy mass. Without even stopping to think what I was about and aware only of the need to eliminate the cause of his physical discomfort and increase his body temperature, I knelt down before him. I clasped the cold cloth of his wringing-wet sweat pants and tugged them down to his feet. I had expected to find underpants and fully intended to leave him dressed only in that last vestige of modesty. He was wore nothing underneath. For the first time in my adult life I was confronted by a naked boy, and as I immediately realized, a very beautiful young boy. Nothing could have prepared me for the shock I faced. I am not prudish by any means. It was not impossible for me to imagine being sexually aroused by a young girl and occasionally my private fantasies had gone in that direction. Indeed, my stepdaughters had an undesirable effect on me sometimes when my guard was down. With increasing frequency, I had even begun to think of Cassie as being not only sexy, but highly desirable. But a young boy? In the cold outside and in response to his fear, Juan's genitals had shrivelled. His stubby, little penis and wrinkled scrotum were all but asexual. His genitals provided only mere traces of his maleness and yet I became charged with a previously unknown excitement. I was not aroused like I would be by my wife, or even by her youngest daughter. I experienced a wild, mind-shaking thrill that quickly became so intense that the probability of a stroke did not seem to be farfetched. Juan's entire, shivering, wet body was covered in the tiny pimples of gooseflesh and I grabbed a towel and began to urgently dry him off. However, my response was as much directed by concern for his well being as it was for my own. The sight of him, standing naked and unprotected before me, chilled my spine. I quaked with each rub of his lithe body. Each touch of his cold, though very alive flesh sent a weird panic through me. I dried off his torso as I tried to direct my attention away from his perfect body by cloaking his nudity whenever possible in the thick, white towel. Each time I covered him for as long as I could stand to be without refreshing the object of my desire. Time and time again I patted, brushed, and grazed the smooth skin of his bare body, only to reveal more of him as my urge to see him became uncontrollable. Again and again I lifted the towel away to study his absolute perfection. He was very beautiful, even to my jaded eyes. And then I dried his legs, briskly massaging the firm lean muscles as I worked my way from his feet to his thighs. I rubbed his buttocks thoroughly and swiftly worked the towel into the deep recess of his crack. He did not seem to mind my violation of his privacy but I avoided his groin assiduously, instinctively knowing that if I touched him there, it was over. But what was over? It was not that he would reject me because there were ample signs that he did not mind my gentle towelling, indeed he seemed to appreciate the attention as he gradually warmed and ceased shivering. No, if I touched him there, I would have to accept the consequences of my action. I would have to admit, if only to myself, that a twelve-year-old boy had awakened in me the most frightening and depraved desires that a man can feel. His bare skin reddened quickly but I continued to agitate his sensitive body with the abrasive towel. I wanted to stop but I could not. I wanted to go on touching him forever. Finally, only one small part of him remained untouched. To continue to dry him off when he was already completely dry and tingling from my exertions, was ridiculous. I stopped and slowly came to me feet, placed a dry towel around his shoulders, and gave him a brief friendly hug. "Okay, it looks like you're still alive," I teased, "Why don't you go into the other room and get under the covers and warm up." "Thanks Matt," he murmured gratefully. "I already feel better. I was scared stiff that I wouldn't be able to hang onto the railing much longer. I thought I was going to die any second. If you hadn't come out when you did, I know I would have fallen." "That's okay," I acknowledged. "It was the FBI, Juan. They were looking for a ten or eleven-year-old boy. I know they were looking for you!" Juan shrugged. "I'm twelve." It was a harmless denial. I smiled at him gently and he beamed back at me. "You're wet too," he observed after a while. "Maybe I'd better dry you off now," he suggested happily. My penis was as hard as iron, a complete and absolute contrast to the tiny, limp organ between Juan's legs. I shook my head as I tried to direct him out of the bathroom with a gentle shove. The boy made it patently clear that he intended to stay with me until I was as dry as he was. With his slender legs braced he looked at me with resolution, raising a single eyebrow in direct challenge to my authority. I grinned back at him. "I think I can dry myself off," I said. Again he shrugged. "We're both guys," he observed with a smile. "You don't have anything that I don't have. Except your's is a whole lot bigger than mine, of course." It was impossible not to like him. It was, as I also discovered, impossible to resist him. Just the mere intonation of his precious soprano voice was enough to bend me to his will. I started to undress, not only to humor him, but because I wanted him to see me as naked as he was. I wondered what effect I would have on the boy, hoping that it would be similar to the effect that he had on me. However, the chance that a twelve-year-old boy would be turned on by a man who was old enough to be his father was incredibly remote. I hoped against all reason that he would not reject me. To my surprise he was interested, that much at least was obvious. Juan leaned back against the vanity and watched as I unfastened the buttons of my shirt and dropped it on top of his water-logged clothes. His eyes flickered over my chest. He was visibly fascinated by what he saw. I took a deep breath and unfastened my belt and opened the zipper of my trousers. They were the bottom half of my best suit, the one that I had planned to wear the next morning for my presentation. All thoughts of my presentation evaporated in the face of what I now confronted. Juan's eyes were riveted on my hands as I began to push my trousers downward. That my penis was erect was obvious well before my underpants came into view. I observed Juan's piqued interest even as he observed the results of my interest in him. His eyes opened wide and there was a hint of a smile as the corners of his perfect mouth twitched. I bent forward at the waist, removed my socks and trousers, and straightened up again. Juan's breathing had slowed to deep inhalations that signaled his efforts to control his excitement. We gazed at each other uncertainly and with considerable interest. The boy was naked except for the towel draped over his shoulders. For one so young, he was remarkably uninhibited. His bare body was shamelessly exposed for me to see and appreciate, it was as if he had been nude for all of his twelve years. He grinned with unabashed amusement and adopted a lewd pose with his hands on his hips. I was naked except for my damp underpants and they concealed my very stiff penis insofar as it was possible to hide a massive bulge. But what was really confusing was my sudden and overwhelming nervousness. I was uptight, forestalled by many years of conditioning that proscribed my excitement as taboo. I did not want the boy to see my penis although I was perfectly content to scrutinize his flawless body. I started to dry myself off. I was nowhere as wet as Juan had been. "Not fair," he whispered huskily. "You have to strip as well." "That's probably not a good idea," I muttered. "Why not? I have seen a man's cock before, you know. It doesn't bother me that you've got a hard-on," Juan said impudently. He looked downward to my groin with a blatant stare. The boy did not blush. Instead his eyes opened wide with profligate interest in my anatomy. "What if it bothers me?" I asked. He smiled as he shrugged. He continued to stare at me as I tried to wipe myself dry and cover the evidence of my arousal, wondering as I did so whether the boy suspected that my penis was that way only because of him. Nearly a minute passed before the brooding silence between us was broken. "Have you ever done it with a boy?" Juan asked curiously. "What?" "You heard me!" he smirked incorrigibly. "Have you?" he repeated licentiously. "With a boy?" I repeated. Juan nodded. I shook my head and he smiled. "But you'd like to, wouldn't you," he stated with conviction. It was not a question. It was a statement of fact. "I know you're thinking about it. That's why he's so stiff. Well, isn't it, Matt?" he asked persistently. His voice was lustful. No longer able to control his dissolute desire, he was quickly become more excited. It showed in the gradual stiffening of his own penis. With every downward glance I watched it lengthen and lift upwards a fraction. "No!" I countered the instant that I realized the effect that I was having on the boy. I could feel the heat rising with the blood into my neck, flushing my face to a crimson shade of embarrassment. He simpered with a knowing look at my aroused penis. He knew exactly what had caused my erection. It was the same thing that explained the heat in his own groin. I was turning him on just as he had aroused me. "It's because you're married, isn't it?" he demanded. "Is it because you're afraid she'll find out,... or because you might like it?" I tensed as I fought against his truthful appraisal of my dilemma. I was unsure myself. Was I attracted to young boys? My penis certainly appeared to think so and apparently even a twelve-year-old child thought so as well. Was my reluctance because of my marriage? I had married late in life when most other men had already raised their children to grade school or even high school age. Had my marriage to Leah been nothing more than a last resort to avoid the loneliness that accompanies getting older. I had often wondered. And for that matter, what did Leah see in me beyond a provider for her children after her previous husband had stopped paying child support. I sighed and straightened up, more uncertain than ever about my life. Had I been living a lie? I tried to take my eyes away from the naked, brown body before me. It was impossible for me to look elsewhere for more than a few seconds. His short, squat penis was now very hard. It jutted into the air like a proud little soldier standing at attention. Each breath I took was a deliberate effort, a slow controlled attempt to focus my thoughts and redirect my interest to something other than Juan's genitals and his lithe, smooth body. I was not prepared for the momentous decision that confronted me. I wanted so much to say something that would provide the impetus for the two of us to take advantage of our natural inclinations. I also wanted to say no, to go about my life without entering a forbidden zone that could bring nothing but unhappiness. Now that he was also sexually aroused, Juan was not about to allow me to escape so easily. "I,... I guess. I don't know," I said sadly as I shook my head. His lips pursed and for an instant I sensed that the youngster was as dejected as I was. Perhaps that was what bothered me more than anything else, much more than his rigid penis that pointed directly up at me in a direct challenge. On the evening of his twelfth birthday, his life had been reduced to this; to a sordid and shameful association with a stranger in a hotel room. It was a time when he should have been having innocent fun with his friends and extracting the essence of life itself. Juan was no longer a child, some where that had been stolen from him. Under any normal circumstances he should have been living with the freedom and energy of youth as he took the first stumbling steps towards manhood. Instead he was here with me on the brink of debauchery that he should have no knowledge of. "Do you want to do it with a boy?" he asked softly. He was still determined as he pursued his desire with relentless eroticism. I clenched my teeth to avoid making the answer that I wanted to make. The force of my desire, submerged deep inside me like an archaic and undeveloped seed, exploded. My desire burgeoned like an orgasmic release from captivity of reason, prudence, and morality. I nodded. Our eyes met briefly and realization sparked between us. "Are you sure you want to do this, Juan?" I questioned as my interest mounted. My penis seemed to inflate, swelling even more until the veins were distended and the glans was dilated in a dark, bulbous mushroom. "What do you think?" he giggled."I already know I'm gay and besides, I'm old enough to know what I want to do." "I guess so but maybe you're way too young to do what you want," I argued pointlessly. "My age has nothing to do with it. Anyway, if you must know, I've already done it before." "Having sex with boys your own age isn't the same," I proposed in a feeble effort to impede the speed at which we were racing towards the inevitable confrontation that lay before us. "I haven't done it with another boy, yet." Juan giggled cheekily. "Boys aren't the same anyway." "Then?..." "Don't be a dumb ass. Of course you aren't the first grown-up I've done it with." "That doesn't make it right," I countered. "It doesn't make it wrong either," he smirked smartly. "You do it for money, don't you Juan?" I asked distastefully. That was the only explanation for his aggressive and corrupted behavior. "Maybe! Okay, sometimes! Only I want to do it this time, okay," he retorted. "You don't have to pay me," he added. "Is it because I helped you earlier? You don't have to do this. You don't owe me anything. I helped you because I liked you and you needed help." "Not exactly! If you don't want to do it with me, then fine. I don't care," Juan added angrily as his tension elevated. I sighed. "Juan, it isn't that I don't want to," I said honestly. "I do! I really want to. It's just that, hell, I'm old enough to be your father. I really don't think it's right." "But you want to?" Juan asked uncertainly as he tilted his head to one side quizzically. "God! Juan, look at me! My cock has never been this hard in forty- two years. Of course I want to. I want to more than anything in the world." I declared. "If you really want to, and I want to, then why shouldn't we? No one is going to know besides us," he affirmed. "Your wife won't know unless you tell her." We gazed at each other, each knowing the negotiation had been concluded. My penis dwarfed that of the twelve-year-old boy. His delicate little organ was easily overpowered by my seven-plus inches of aching stiffness as it protruded like a ramrod into my briefs. There was a primitive magnetism that hovered between us, of animalistic origins that predated Christianity. By the standards of contemporary morality we were depraved, although we would never be so judged by ancient standards. For us, the union of man and boy was entirely appropriate. "You better take off your undies," Juan teased joyfully. "They're dripping, but I think it's only water." I did what the boy asked, barely cognizant of his vulgar appraisal of my arousal. I eased the damp cotton cloth away from my hips and dragged it downward and outward so that my erect penis sprung free of its confinement. I shoved them away, well past my knees until they were sufficiently loose on my legs to slide the rest of the way to the tiled floor. I stepped free and stood up straight to confront the boy with my naked and very excited body. He appraised me with what should have been an inexperienced eye, but was not. "You've good a really big one, Matt," he observed with considerable awe. "It's not that big," I denied with a quick smile at the visibly entranced youngster. For more than a minute his eyes had not left my genitals. "Maybe you should let me be the judge of that!" he replied mischievously. "Okay! So what's your basis for comparison, Juan?" I teased. "How many men's cocks have you seen, anyway?" It was a stupid thing to say but my curiosity was aroused. The boy grinned and continued to examine my distended penis from a safe distance. He raised his eyebrows, a playful admonition that he knew far more than he was letting on. "I've seen plenty of them," he admitted with a sly smile. "It sounds to me like you've been checking them out at the urinal," I said with an exaggerated sideways glance. "Of course, I expect you haven't seen too many stiff ones." His smile widened and he started to laugh. "Okay! But I have seen a few hard ones and yours is the biggest." "So how come a boy your age has seen a few hard-ons?" I asked. "Why do you think?" he retorted. I shrugged sadly. "You already said that you did it for money. I expect you've done it a lot." "I've only done this a couple of times. That is what you want to know, isn't Matt?" I nodded awkwardly. "So I know what happens, okay?" Juan added confidently. I swallowed and sighed quietly. Despite my continuing excitement, in a way I also felt very depressed. "Did you do it for money with all of them?" The boy shrugged. "That's my business. I do what I want to do, okay?" He glanced at the ceiling and his eyes focused on the heating, lamp, and ventilator fixture. "I only did it with one guy for money," he said quietly. "The other guy, well he was sort of a friend." He paused as if the admission was painful to him. He was still young and despite his sexual precocity, he still had some of the natural honesty and innocence of childhood. "If you must know, I've only done it once before for money. I was supposed to do it again tonight. That's why I'm here. We kind of started but we had to stop before anything really happened." "Because of the police?" I suggested. Juan nodded. He reached out and took my hand in his. The warm softness of his small hand enclosed mine. He leaned forward until his bare belly brushed against me. It was a delicious feeling as firm, silky smooth flesh touched me. His hand tightened on mine and my rigid penis compressed into his belly and lower chest. He moved from side to side, rubbing our bodies in a gentle embrace, squeezing ever tighter against me as his other arm locked behind me. The sensation of his skin against mine sent electrifying thrills up and down my spine and made my penis throb with unparalleled joy. Unable to resist the boy, my free hand slipped down his lean back and lovingly clasped his buttocks to draw him harder against me. He continued to rock his hips in an undulating motion that agitated my penis to such hardness that it was painful. Even my testicles were pushed from side to side as they squashed into him, compressed into his flat, muscled stomach somewhere in the region below his tiny navel. "Maybe we should do this in the bedroom?" I suggested with throaty excitement. Chapter 9. For Money or Love Juan nodded. Still hand in hand, we walked back into the bedroom. There were two beds but the one nearest the window was where I had been working earlier. With naked, beautiful Juan standing by my side, there was no choice. My priorities had been rearranged in a way that I had never dreamed possible. My presentation could wait until the next morning. The discarded papers, reports, and computer printout that covered the bed were suddenly of little interest to me. I turned to the adjoining bed and hurriedly yanked the bedspread back. The sheets were brilliant white, virginal and untouched. It was I reflected, a perfect setting for the sodomy of a twelve-year-old boy. "Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked. Juan nodded. He smiled and climbed onto the bed, pushing the bedspread and the top sheet back as he went. He lay down and looked fixedly at me. His dark eyes sparkled with such intensity that I shivered. He swallowed and then licked his lips as he continued to study me. Within, he felt a confused desire that was far stronger than anything he had known before. However, even as he trembled with growing excitement, Bruce's words haunted him. His heightened arousal was accompanied by a painful, guilty anger. A boy had sex either 'for money or love'. That was what Bruce had said. Only there was no money involved. In those first lonely seconds by himself on the bed, Juan knew that he wanted to be loved more than anything else. He had never been loved in twelve years. "Yeah, I want to," Juan said hoarsely. He lay down on his side, placing his left hand under his head as he reclined in the large fluffy pillows. Again I marvelled at the beautiful, naked boy, entranced by the smooth perfect body displayed before me, his dark skin hairless and lustrous under the yellow light from the bed lamp. My interest was concentrated on his groin just as his eyes were fixed on mine. It was, I realized, a mutual attraction. What Juan found so stimulating in a man who was old enough to be his father was matched by my corresponding fascination in his immature sexuality. I trembled like a virgin on her first night. By contrast, Juan looked remarkably relaxed although the same could hardly be said for his penis. It defied gravity and stayed parallel to the center line of his body. His scrotum had retracted fully and had become a small wrinkled lump that all but concealed the shallow swellings of his testicles. "Are we gonna get it off or are you going to stare at me all night?" he giggled cheerfully. I reddened slightly. My hesitation came from inexperience, from not knowing what came next. I wondered how a man and boy had sex. Did it mean that I was gay? Did getting it off in Juan's lexicon really mean that he intended for us to engage in anal sex? I moved closer to the bed and slowly eased down until I lay beside him. We faced each other and I looked into the boy's deep, dark eyes. Like magical pools, they absorbed my gaze. I was captivated. I imagined that I could see so far into him that I saw the boy's soul. In the silence of the moment, I was awed by the wonderful mystery that lay before me. His slender body seemed to quiver with excitement. I sensed the sweet warmth of his breath, the radiant heat of his naked flesh, the aura of youth, the anticipation of discovering his sexuality. It would take only a few brief minutes before I experienced the joy of satisfying his body and gratifying my own needs. Side by side, the difference between our bodies was less important than the thirty-year difference in our ages. In the bathroom I had towered over the young boy much as my penis dominated his own puny sex organs. Juan's 70 pounds and 55 inches were not only considerably less than my 175 pounds and 72 inches but his smooth sleek nakedness and less-than-three-inch erect penis was a sharp contrast to my aged body and seven swollen inches of adult phallus. Now, the size and powerlessness of his body seemed to become less significant. That Juan had been, and probably still was a prostitute no longer bothered me. In fact, it added to the titillation as I began to contemplate the possibility of intercourse. Although his youth would always be a factor in any relationship we might explore, his physical capacity was not in question. "Well?" he grinned temptingly. I decided to play hard to get. I smiled slightly. "What happens now is up to you, my young friend." He smirked as he reached down and the tips of his fingers caressed the length of my penis. His touch was feathery and his fingers floated back and forth. One small finger traced a line to the tip, circling in the juice that leaked out. He smeared it over my glans as he smiled tantalizingly. My penis throbbed mercilessly as his fingers grazed over it, stroking against the glistening glans with tormenting repetition. "I bet you like that," he observed. I groaned in ecstasy. "Yeah," thought you did. Your precum is really pissing out, Matt." He squeezed the tumescent bulb and inflicted the most excruciating pleasure until it inflated to a purple turgidity that was unfamiliar to me. He grinned crudely as he milked the clear fluid from the slit. It was a vexing smile that electrified me and denied his tender years as his lips formed a circle. It was intended to whet my appetite and kindle a desire that ignited a fire inside me. Juan was impossible to resist. I nodded eagerly and pushed his shoulder. I guided the eager boy downward to his self-appointed task. "I'm not gonna suck him yet," Juan proclaimed. "We have to use a rubber for that, okay." "Okay," I grunted. "God you feel so good, Juan." I watched his tousled head, amused by the continuing delectable touch of his fingers as he harassed my sex organs. Silently, he provided an unseen agony as each tender caress extracted delight. I stroked his soft long hair, musing as the boy indulged me, savoring each and every second as I waited. I was in nirvana when I sensed the warm moistness of his breath. Every nerve ending in my body tingled but they were concentrated on my distended penis. His lips and tongue were softer than anything I have ever felt. So soft was his first contact, that at first it did not seem possible that his mouth had actually touched my shaft, but he had. Under his gentle lips, the skin of my penis became wet and slippery. His small tongue licked along the length of my penis, from my scrotum to just short of the glans, tickling and tantalizing me to almost delirious delight. He rubbed it against his cheek, crooning to himself as he massaged my testicles with his thin, strong fingers. Every few seconds he would glance up at me expectantly and I smiled back radiantly. Each time he raised his eyebrows and went back to work with greater passion than before. Juan was not showing off, he simply was exulting in his ability to make me happy. The urge to return the pleasure intensified until I could no longer stand it. I wanted Juan to feel as good as I did, although I expected that he derived a certain thrill from what he was doing to me. "Okay," I finally gasped. "Now it's my turn. Come on, kid, let me see your beautiful, little dick." My hands moved to his hips and I clumsily repositioned him. I intended to gratify him orally, to give him the same glorious bliss that I felt but the angle was all wrong. What should have been a mutually satisfying 69 was physically impossible even when he straddled my face and leaned forward to lay above me. His small genitals were underneath him, located somewhere between our bodies where they were inaccessible to me. Although he could hump against my belly, the only way I could bring my mouth to its intended target was to position him so that he could reach only the tip of my penis. I lifted my head up and looked along his bare back. The little bumps of his spine were visible from his hairline all the way to the start of his buttocks. His cheeks were small and deliciously firm like two canteloupe halves but of a vastly smoother texture. Although the narrow cleft between his cheeks widened at either end, his opening was still concealed from my view. Instinctively my hands grasped the soft skin and as I felt the resilient flesh of his buttocks, I opened him to the world. Juan was not a virgin, that much was clearly evident in the fullness of his little anus. The rim was reddened and puffy, in all probability still swollen from a recent invasion. He had been interrupted, or so he had told me, and I guessed the interruption had occurred at an inopportune time for his companion, if not for me. But despite my misgivings, his little, dark brown hole was intensely arousing. I studied it carefully as Juan continued his own playful examination of my penis and testicles. That tiny, partially dilated opening into his body fascinated me in a way that I had never imagined. Captivated, I touched the little node. It was surprisingly slippery as I felt the moist heat that emanated from his body. "Ohhhh!" Juan gasped. "Man!" I recoiled with the vivid impression that I had soiled his innocence with my vulgar inspection. He groaned. "No, don't stop. I want you to," he instructed and his buttocks pressed back at me as his knees moved up and forward. "That feels so nice." His cheeks opened wider of their own accord and he presented his alluring aperture for my scrutiny. The breach of his orifice was partially displayed and I saw the crimson of his rectum as it disappeared into him. It was a new beginning for me. Enchanted, I stroked the sensitive perimeter, encircling the tiny hole as I inhaled deeply. Except for the pleasant aroma of soap from a freshly washed body, there was no smell. "Yeah, just like that, Matt. Ohhh! Yeah, I like it. Right there is cool!" Again my finger travelled around the tight radius of his little orifice and then cautiously I probed into the very center. Juan sighed and trembled slightly. I hesitated as I wondered what he felt. His response was encouraging and I pressed my finger further into him. It burrowed into the soft tissue of his anus. Juan shifted slightly, aligning the axis of his body with my inquisitive digit. He wiggled his hips seductively. Bewitched by the boy, I penetrated a little further into him by applying a slow, constant pressure. "Oh, God!," he moaned quietly. "Yeah, Matt!, That feels so good." I did not stop until my finger was ensconced beyond the second joint and he was quivering with delight. That the boy enjoyed the feelings I gave him only served to entice me further into him. It was only when my finger was fully inside him as far as it could go that I realized how easy it had been. The lining of his rectum was surprisingly slippery and my finger moved without restraint on a generous film of lubricant until my knuckles were hard against his crevice. It felt as though my finger was enclosed in a wet, hot tube. It did not feel overly constricted, but it was very alive as momentary cramping spasms tightened on my finger and squeezed. "That feels really awesome. Move your finger around a bit, Matt," Juan instructed. I twisted my finger and stroked the sensitive tissue inside him. He groaned and shuddered as my finger brushed against his prostate. "Yeah," he moaned. "Right there! Do it there!" he commanded abruptly. Again, as I rotated my finger inside his bowel and pushed forcefully into what appeared to me to be a highly sensitive spot, I wondered how recently Juan had been penetrated. I had no way of actually knowing that he had been, but it seemed to me that he was so relaxed and spongy that it could not have been more than an hour or two at the most. There was no sign of the tight, puckered anus that I had expected to find on a boy and the presence of the clear slime-like lubricant confirmed my worst suspicions. Although I could not help but feel envious as I wondered who Juan's companion had been, I was not jealous as I considered how much he had paid for the boy's affections. How much was a boy like Juan worth? A lot, I guessed. "Am I doing it right?" I asked as I resolved to take my pleasure as I found it. Already the pressure inside his bowel was fading and my finger moved easier. The tube-like rectum dilated quickly, softening with every cautious stab of my finger until the firmness of his sphincter was gone. I was very curious as to the source of what was obviously providing a greatly enhanced delight for the young boy. Juan's hips forced back, straining with a frenzied tension. His movements became increasingly desperate as he pumped erratically against my finger with a wretched and ardent passion that was very disturbing to me. "Yeah!" Juan gasped. "Yeah! That's where I want it, Matt. Just do it right there, okay!" His hips jerked spasmodically as he took control. Capriciously, I yanked my finger away from its hot mushy container. The boy's response was startling as he sprang back, raising his hindquarters so that my finger was immediately impaled again. "You must really like that," I teased. "Feels pretty good huh?" I twisted my finger and stabbed it downwards and rubbed into his belly, aiming for the place where he seemed to experience the greatest pleasure. In the loose tissue there seemed to be a firmer region, a tiny bulge that greeted my finger. I squashed it back and Juan yelped. However, even in my ignorance, I knew that his cry was not from pain. "Yeah," I added. "I guess you really like it right about here." I prodded him again and again, and with every twisting plunge of my finger Juan writhed, jerked, and shrieked with boundless delight. I was astounded by the boy's thrilling response. I savored the contortions of his naked body, his lithe smooth limbs shaking uncontrollably as he relished my precise stimulation of a million acutely sensitive nerve endings. Each motion seemed unpredictable. Both Juan and I were spurred on by a wild and impassioned ecstasy. His fulfillment would come only with his orgasm and I fully intended to satisfy him. He shuddered violently as he approached the plateau that preceded the final precipice, his slender legs tensing until the long muscles and tendons were stretched taut. "Oh!" he groaned. "I never,... Ohhhh! Man, that's so cool. Do it,... only harder,... please Matt," Juan pleaded as he gasped for air. I chuckled at the boy's predicament. Only one finger had brought my young friend to the brink of orgasm. One finger had, within a period of just a few brief minutes, reduced to boy's rectum to quivering jelly. His anus was fully dilated and had loosened to the point that my finger moved freely into him. As I pulled away, there was a soft, wet sucking sound from his bowel and he whimpered quietly. Two fingers, even three, inside his anus would not be an impossible feat. I knew that I had to try. I removed my finger, noticing the slime that covered it was slightly yellowish in color and flecked with creamy mucus-like strands. With two fingers pressed tightly together, I returned my attention to his little gaping hole. The first joint presented no problem and I penetrated him without difficulty. However, as my fingers widened my progress quickly slowed until it stopped. His anus seemed to be far too small to accept my fingers any further than the second joint and as it was, my other fingers got in the way. "You okay, Juan?" I asked softly. Juan had stopped moving. He lay very still. Only the slight trembling of his legs told me that he was conscious. "Am I hurting you?" I asked with concern. His head shook. "I'm all right!" he whispered. "Let me get used to it first." I shuddered as I sensed the boy's discomfort. I had not wanted to hurt him and I slowly withdrew my fingers. Juan's head shook again. "Don't!" he ordered. "It's okay, really it is. Don't try to force them in. It just takes time for it to stretch back there." I wriggled my fingers and pressed slowly back into his rectum. He gasped as his anus was pierced again. "Do it in circles again," he instructed and then added, "Do it right where my butt-hole starts. That's the best way to make it bigger." I followed his instructions to the letter. I rotated and wiggled my fingers, gyrating into the loose hole with playful twirls and twists, but concentrating my efforts on the already protracted rim. The nodal bulge of his anus had long since disappeared. Now the slippery flesh swelled into his distended opening, diminished slightly at his slackened sphincter, and then mushroomed into a much larger cavity inside. Suddenly, his anal vent seemed disproportionately large for his slender body and I noticed immediately that even the firmness just inside his body had evaporated. I grinned pruriently. Now entranced by the primal smell of his gaping anus, I leaned forward until my nose pressed between his widespread cheeks. The aroma was intriguing. It was not an unpleasant earthy smell, or even a foreign smell. It was a sweet odor, a scent from deep inside him that held me spellbound. It seemed familiar, an intimation of rising dough, a trace of something musty and dank. It was a smell of musk, not unlike the smell of a woman's vagina, although infinitely more enticing. It was an aphrodisiac. I inhaled, enthralled by the bouquet that greeted me as I nuzzled into the deep, steamy cleft before me. There, with my nose squashed into his nether opening, the odor and the close contact finally overwhelmed my inhibitions. I licked him, drawing my tongue along his crevice. I pushed into Juan's anus and tasted the raw flavor of his bowel. Like his smell, there was a sweetness that I relished. I pushed further, pointing my tongue outward as far as it could go, wanting only to be deeper inside him. "Yeahhh!" Juan cried. "Yeah! Do that!!!" I barely heard him. My mind was filled with carnal thoughts, wild and ardent desires, lascivious intentions. I kissed and sucked furiously, stabbing my tongue into the mushy softness as Juan's body heaved turbulently. I was barely aware that his mouth closed over the end of my penis for the first time before his head jerked away. "I gotta get something, Matt," he cried urgently. "I gotta go to the bathroom." He dragged himself away, clambering over me to the end of the bed until he lurched to the floor. For he moment he gazed back at me. He was breathing quickly. His entire body seemed to shudder with each breath, his chest vellicating. That he was intensely aroused was clearly visible but his little penis was no longer erect and I was surprised. It had contracted, shrivelling as it withdrew into him until barely an inch was visible. With a few changes and very little effort Juan would make a remarkably beautiful girl. He grinned mischievously. "Don't leave! I'll be right back... Oh, and keep him nice and hard for me, okay," he ordered. The boy ran from the room and into the bathroom as I looked down. My penis was harder than it had ever been. The shaft glistened with Juan's saliva as it throbbed, pulsing with every pounding heartbeat. The glans was nearly purple in color, swollen like a fat, ripe plum ready to burst and spill its juice. I touched my rigid organ, slipping my fingers along the spit-coated length until I came to the base. My pubic hair was slicked back and my scrotum was a mere fraction of its normal size. It was impossible to believe that a mere boy had done this to me. He ran back. Shamelessly naked, he leaped onto the bed and straddled my legs by kneeling over me. He hurriedly stripped the cellophane covering of a package of condoms and tossed it over his shoulder. It landed on the floor. He smirked at me. "You gotta wear a rubber now, okay?" he demanded. I nodded obediently and watched as he opened the as he opened the box, removed one small packet and dropped the others on the floor beside the bed. The condom was as much for his protection as for my own. "If you want me to, I'll suck you off," he suggested as he extracted the creamy-yellow ring from its clear plastic packet. I smiled broadly at the sensuous boy before me. He giggled as he reached for my hard penis. "But then you've got to promise to do it to me afterwards. Okay?" I was astonished. "Do it?" I asked uncertainly. "You mean do it in your bottom?" "Yeah! You can do it in my mouth first if that's what you want,... but you've got to promise to fuck me afterwards, Matt." "You really want me to do that to you?" I asked nervously. "I don't want you to do something that you really don't want to do." "Fuck!" he swore in exasperation. "Don't be a dummy, Matt. Of course I want to do it. That's what guys do! Don't you know anything?" He placed the condom on the top of my penis and expertly unraveled it down the shaft. It was the first time that I had used a condom since I was a teenager and my penis appeared strangely foreign to me in its thin rubber covering. Now sausage-like, I found the sensation on my penis to be intensely arousing. It was impossible for my erection to become harder but it felt as if it did inside its lubricated casing. He squatted on his haunches and studied his handiwork. "Well?" he asked gleefully. "Uh? Well what?" I returned. "Well, what do you want to do first?" he answered with a lewd question of his own. "You want me front or back?" he explained impatiently. I trembled with the immediate panic of unbridled lust. My excitement attained a level hitherto unknown to me. I was unable to reply and I stared at the naked twelve-year-old prostitute in shocked confusion. Juan leered as he picked up a white and blue tube he had brought with him from the bathroom. I had only seen K-Y lubricant in the drug store and it added to the disorder in my already chaotic mind. "Do I lube him, or what?" he persisted. "You're very sexy," I said quietly. It was an admission of my just-discovered appetite for young boys. I tried to concentrate on the wall behind him and avoid the decision that confronted me. For a few seconds I wallowed in self loathing and guilt, but the wall was mirrored and to my consternation I saw his slender dark back, the firm mounds of his buttocks, and the object of my licentious desire. I yearned to satisfy my craving for his tender flesh, for the hot containment of his strong young body around my penis. I wanted Juan to know my depraved and corrupt lust. "Back," I murmured. "If that's what you want?" Juan grinned. "Yeah!" he acknowledged triumphantly as he unscrewed the cap. "But you've got to promise to suck him later on," I demanded unreasonably and with mock severity. Juan giggled. "Okay! I'll suck him off afterwards. Promise!" It was impossible not to laugh with gleeful anticipation as Juan squeezed out a copious quantity of the crystalline gel from the tube and placed it on the night-stand. I gazed at him as he smeared it over his fingers, and began to apply it to my latex-sheathed penis. We had known each other for not much longer than one hour and we were both stark naked and negotiating the conditions for sexual acts of the most depraved kind. We were also incredibly excited. Once finished, he repositioned himself. He knelt on the bed, lay face down and placed his head in the soft pillows as he parted his small cheeks wide open for my inspection. "Okay, I'm ready," he smirked. "You have to go slow at first." "Are you sure?" I asked again, increasingly less confident as my nervous guilt intensified. "It's going to hurt a lot isn't it?" "Yeah, I'm sure," he muttered testily. "Just go slow until I tell you. It's really small compared to your dick but I'm pretty sure it'll fit." "I don't want to hurt you, Juan," I countered reluctantly "You won't if you just do it slowly. Then it won't me hurt very much at all." Juan paused and took a deep long breath. As he did so, he realized that this was the first time that anyone had cared enough to worry whether he was hurt. He closed his eyes as he remembered the terrible pain of his first time. Even though Bruce had been careful, his patience was as limited as his experience with seducing immature boys. Until Bruce's penis had actually penetrated him, Juan's small sphincter had resisted valiantly. The pressure had increased until it felt as though his entire body was split apart and he was forced open. Bruce's penis rammed into him unforgivingly and without mercy. The rim of his anus, stretched to breaking point. Then, unable to loosen further, ruptured. He had cried as red blood dribbled onto his scrotum and was smeared across the sheets. The thin lining of his rectum had been so bruised that his bowel movements had stopped for two days. It had been awful and it had only been a little better with Mister Luchiano. Instinctively, Juan recognized that this man was very different. At least I gave the impression of caring about him. "It's not like I'm a woman or something, okay? My butt-hole still has to stretch a fair bit before it stops hurting. If you try to put it in too fast, then it's really bad," Juan explained patiently. "I know it's the first time you've done it with a boy but just go really slow and I'll be fine." I nodded and came to my knees, adopting an ancient position behind the boy that seemed to be natural. My movement was spontaneous and emerged from an innate appreciation of the beautiful boy below me. I closed the gap between us, bringing the fat head of penis to the boy's opening. His fingers touched it, grasped it, pulled it forward and positioned it. Impulsively, I pushed forward. Juan responded with a visceral grunt. His eyes closed, focusing on something deep within the secure privacy of his imagination. "You okay?" I asked nervously. The boy grunted again and I reasoned that I was to continue, only very gently. I squeezed against him, sensing the pressure of his fingers as he guided my movement. His body seemed to swallow me, ingesting the turgid glans of my penis with comparative ease. If there was any pain, Juan endured it without complaint. As the flared head entered the soft enclosing heat, I bore down ignorantly, wanting only to be contained fully inside him. "No!" Juan yelped. His body jerked as the pain came and went in an instant. I backed away guiltily, withdrawing my penis from its tight confinement until his fingers gripped and prevented further outward movement. "No! Don't take it out! Slowly! Okay?" he gasped. "I gotta get used to it first, that's all." Duly reprimanded and fully accountable for my impetuous, though innocent thrust, I resolved to proceed at an unhurried pace. With gentle squeezes I entered the youngster at barely a fraction of an inch every minute. But my speed, though slow, was anything but casual. His small body gradually crept up the length of my rigid penis. Once the glans was completely inside, my leisurely pace was unnecessary but by then I wanted to prolong the delight of entering his body for the first time. I took most of my weight on my knees and elbows as I leaned forward over him. Other than my penis, now deep inside him, only his buttocks and thighs provided a connection between us. And yet, we were joined as one body. Every motion of his young body was transmitted directly in mine. The sensitivity of my penis magnified even the slightest tremor into a fabulous alive feeling that our bodies were truly joined. Juan was the natural extension of my penis. As I stroked his sweat-moistened flanks, I touched the aching length of my penis. My fond caresses of his head became a gentle fondling of my glans. I indulged his body with my penis, never moving further than an inch at a time and only when the soft fullness inside him relaxed enough to invite me back again. "You okay?" I asked again as my penis reached it's full depth. Almost seven, wonderful inches had slowly but resolutely been inserted into the twelve-year-old boy's rectum. Only the last three quarters on an inch remained outside him. It was too thick to go in. I rested there, unable to go further, unwilling to withdraw. Minutes passed and Juan's strained breathing gradually slowed. His head was turned to one side and I saw complete and utter bliss on his face. "Yeah, I'm okay! Stop asking every minute, all right. I'll tell you if it hurts and I want you to stop," he smiled contentedly. "You feel so good now," he added. "I knew it would fit up my butt if you went slow enough." "So, how does it feel having a man's cock inside you?" I teased playfully. "Nice! Really nice. It feels like its so full back there that I'm going to explode if you move it." Juan giggled cheekily. "Are you sure you haven't fucked a boy in the ass before now?" "Never!" I admitted. "You're cool! It's pretty big but I really love having your cock in me." I swallowed. "You're awesome!" "You like it better with a boy, don't you?" Juan hissed. "I'm a better fuck than your wife, aren't I?" "Much better," I confided in his ear. I licked his ear lobe slightly and he giggled again. I tongued him again, slurping into his ear with a forceful swirl that made him laugh loudly. "Why?" he asked after his amusement was mastered. "What's it like with a woman?" "It's,... well it's different. You're a lot tighter inside." "Even now?" he asked quietly. "It feels really loose in there." He toyed with it, using some hidden muscles deep inside him to squeeze to, then slacken, then tighten up on my penis. His bowel movements sent wonderful shivers through me. Any reluctance I still had about sexual intercourse with a pre-teen boy was surmounted. He was more than enough to satiate the cravings of any man. "Yes," I breathed. "You're wonderful. It's hotter, and tighter, and,..." I tried to find the words that expressed the sublime delight I had found inside his body. No woman could come close to the unparalleled pleasure to be obtained from a boy like Juan. I gazed down at him in admiration as he continued to work the muscles inside his lower abdomen. "If you don't stop that I'm going to cum any second," I groaned. I marveled at his innate ability to understand my needs. It was as if he anticipated my body's desires and satisfied them with the natural motions of his own body. Thirty years separated us in age but we were like peanut butter and jelly. We were joined inseparably together and had become infinitely more than a man and a boy. It was impossible to tell where Juan ended and I began. "That's the idea," he teased. The boy was goading me on, wanting the agitation of my penis, but unwilling to ask for it. His hips oscillated, sending a sure sign to my penis to begin. I shuddered, overcome by the intense stimulation of my sex organ. In slow motion, I started to pump against him. My thighs met his buttocks once. "Ohhhh! Jesus! I,... I'm cuming," I groaned in despair. I wanted only for the orgasm to stop but the more I tried to hold back, the faster and stronger it approached. My testicles tightened and my penis jerked as white-hot seed squirted out of me. Three spurts came quickly, filling the end of the condom, before it paused. Juan stirred, his hips wavering as he sensed my release. His entire body began to move, squeezing with every ounce of strength remaining to him. It was the incentive I needed. My penis spurted again and again, matching every grasping shudder of his body with a spray of semen until I was drained. I felt my arms giving way and I rolled to one side and toppled onto the bed next to Juan. My penis pulled free of nirvana with a wet, succulent pop. I was exhausted after twenty-seven minutes. "So what's it like to fuck a girl," he taunted as soon as I began to show signs of recovery. "Not like this, that's for sure. You were incredible! I never realized a guy could do that by just squeezing on it," I chuckled. "You feel all right?" Juan nodded and inspected his bottom with his fingers, relieved to find only yellowish slime with the faintest trace of blood. "You sure made my butt-hole big enough," he observed shamelessly. "I thought you were the expert at this stuff," I said. It was the wrong thing to say and I knew it immediately. He shrugged and pretended to be nonchalant about his prior experience. "I haven't had that many dicks up me okay! I just know my butt-hole has never been this huge, that's all!" I smiled at my young friend. "I'm sorry, Juan. I really didn't mean that the way it sounded. I was trying to say,... well, I wanted to say that I was glad one of us knew what to do." He grinned cheekily. "You did great, Matt. Especially with it being your first time with another guy and everything." He flipped at my now softening penis. "It's a pity the old guy lost it so quickly. We were just getting started. I can't do wet cums yet like you, but I can still get it off." "I'm sorry," I admitted. "It happened so damned fast. If you hadn't been squeezing on him, I think I would have lasted longer." It was then that I first realized that there must have been some pleasure in what we had done for the boy. In fact, there must have been a lot of pleasure. I twisted onto my side and looked at Juan. He was still smiling even as his unrequited excitement dissipated. I wanted to kiss him and for a brief instant I sensed that he wanted to kiss me back. His lips seemed to quiver and he licked them momentarily. He gazed back at me with a challenging expression. "We can do it again later on," he beamed and then added, "That is, if I can stay here with you tonight." I nodded eagerly. Juan flopped onto his side and straightened his legs out. He winced with the change in position and the change in pressure on raw, bruised flesh that had taken the brunt of my attack. "It hurts, doesn't it," I asked swiftly. The boy nodded and compressed his lips as another painful spasm caught him by surprise. He cramped again and he shuddered as a vicious streak of pain tortured his bowel. "What can I do?" I begged. Juan shook his long tousled hair sadly. I watched in dismay as he cramped and gasped in distress. His knees drew up and his arms locked around his legs protectively. He lay like a fetus, suffering his body's aches and discomfort in Stoic silence. After a minute he turned away from me. He hesitated and then staggered to his feet. "I gotta use the can," he murmured. "Do you want me to come?" "Don't come in," he strained. "I'm okay, really I am. It'll take a while. Why don't you watch TV or something?" he suggested. I watched him shuffle out into the corridor, engaged in a private suffering as I admired his lithe dark body. He was an intensely erotic child. His small buttocks, so recently the center of my universe, were from a distance, still unmarked. The injury I had done to him was hidden well within the deep cleft. Perhaps it was my imagination but he seemed to wobble as he walked, bow-legged with tottering steps, his young body physically exhausted from accommodating my passion. Guiltily, I picked up the remote for the television and switched it on as I heard the bathroom door close. The TV was tuned to an obscure LA-region station, primarily news and local events in the Mexican community. Automatically my finger jabbed at the channel changer but I stopped at the next station. For a moment I had heard something about the Eldorado Hotel and I backed up quickly. A reporter was standing on the front steps of the hotel. It was a live broadcast. "....The FBI are working with the LA and San Bernadino police in an investigation of an apparent link between tonight's action at the Eldorado and an earlier gang murder in the LA suburb of Gardena. Romano Testa was found at ten minutes past six this evening. He had been shot in the head and chest. Also killed were a Philippine woman whose name has not yet been released. Police believe that the woman, the renter of the apartment in which the murders occurred, was a twenty-six-year-old prostitute with an arrest record for several minor offenses. Neighbors have told our on-site reporter that she had two children. "According to the FBI, Testa was a major player in the illegal drugs from Colombia. His death may be related to recent incidents involving the LA Mafia and the Mexican community. Testa had been arrested previously on drug-related charges and it is believed that he had taken control after Domingo Latero was murdered in a similar gang- style incident last year. "FBI traced two men from the apartment in Gardena to the Eldorado Hotel in San Bernadino. Paul Luchiano, long believed to be a Mafia boss was arrested at the hotel just after seven p.m tonight. Police have informed us that he will shortly be charged as an accessory to murder. "A late breaking item: an unidentified informant has just informed K-R-X TV that police are still looking in the San Bernadino area for a boy aged between nine and twelve years old who is believed to have information. A search of the hotel earlier tonight proved unsuccessful. Anyone having information on the whereabouts of the boy is advised to contact the San Bernadino police. He is identified as having medium- brown, shoulder-length hair, medium-dark complexion, and a slender build. He was last seen in the Eldorado Hotel about six-forty this evening and was wearing dark-blue sweat pants and top. "Saint Geraldo's soccer team has charged to victory once again and defeated,..." I changed the channel with shaking hands. Juan had information on a murder? No, that wasn't what the reporter had said. The police wanted him because he was believed to have information. About what? I dreaded the answer to that question as I wondered what I had missed at the start of the broadcast. What had I heard about the Eldorado that piqued my interest? I knew that I had heard the words `unidentified man shot and killed by the police at the Eldorado'. I kept changing the channels, trying one after the other in a fruitless attempt to learn more about the events at the Eldorado Hotel. I was frantic to know how Juan was involved. I was certain that he had done something terrible, something much worse that simply engaging in illicit sexual activity with a grown man. However, there was nothing else to be learned and I finally stopped changing when I reached the Disney Channel. A movie had just started and I recognized the opening scenes from "Shipwrecked". I had watched the video with Cassie on a rainy Saturday afternoon a few weeks earlier. The hero, a young Swedish boy, began his adventures as a cabin boy aboard a sailing ship but spent most of his time parading around desert island. I had teased Cassie relentlessly that afternoon but even I had to admit that beautiful, blond Stian Smestad was a gorgeous specimen of a boy. Casually, I began to fondle my penis. My raging erection had diminished almost the instant that I had ejaculated. About five or six minutes and still encased in the latex skin, the sensation was not particularly pleasant. Whether it was a reaction to swimming in my copious semen, from the lubricant within the condom, or just as a result of the extra heat and irritation afforded by the membrane itself, I neither knew nor cared, but it began to itch. I tugged the used condom off and gratefully rubbed my semen-soaked penis against the sheets. I was fascinated by the amount of semen I had released after comparatively little effort on my part. The stimulation inside Juan's hot, clutching body had been overpowering. My fingers held the stretched out sleeve daintily as the thick, white fluid drained to the bottom and filled the end. Juan emerged from the bathroom. He closed the door after him and ambled slowly back to the bed. He placed his fingers to his mouth, swallowed and sipped from a glass of water. He walked with considerably less difficulty than he had about ten minutes earlier. He smiled as he saw me, still naked, still lying where he had left me fatigued "I've got another one of them," he grinned playfully and then added, "If you've got some more to put in it." he smirked, knowing full well that he had left my semen depleted with his voracious body. "How do you feel?" I asked as I squashed the soggy end of the condom. "If you want an aspirin or something, I've got some in my bag." The boy placed the glass of water on the table and came over to the bed. "I'm fine now. I just had to take a pill, that's all. By the way, you probably shouldn't use the can for a while, it's pretty stinky in there." "Diarrhea?" I asked. Juan shrugged. "Nah, I just pooped a load, that's all." "What's the pill for?" I asked suspiciously. Suddenly I found myself wondering whether Juan was taking drugs. Perhaps that was why the police wanted him. After all, the news story had been about a drug- related murder. "Uh? It's kind of a vitamin. It's got iron or something like that in it. Bruce said they would make my dick stiffer if I took them regularly, like every day or two, but I think he was kidding me." I nodded, still suspicious. "You're not doing drugs are you, Juan?" "I'm not a dumb ass. Don't you believe everything you hear about kids doing drugs. Not all of us do!" He grinned mischievously. "What's the movie about?" he added as he settled back down on the bed beside me. "I've seen it before," I acknowledged. "It's about a boy who gets shipwrecked and runs into some pirates. It's okay. Do you want to watch it?" "Sure!" he stretched out next to me. "Unless you've got another idea," he added suggestively. Juan was so close that I could feel the warmth of his bare skin. I could read his mind as easily as I knew my own. I understood exactly what he wanted and what he expected me to do. It was almost impossible to believe that he intended to have intercourse again, and right away at that. Under normal circumstances I would need an hour at least, perhaps longer. The expression on his small face was striking. His eyes were ravenous as they examined my body, devoured my limp penis with a quick glance, and then decided I was acceptable prey. I laughed. "I have! However, I think it would be a good idea for you to rest up for a while before we do it again." "You really want to do it again,... tonight?" he questioned. His expression was instantly swapped for one of triumph. "Of course I do. That is, if you do?" I replied. He nodded eagerly. "Next time, young man, I'm going to make you cum all over the place." Juan giggled. "I already told you, Matt, I'm still too young for wet ones." I chuckled again and I rubbed my hand through his tousled, long hair. "So? It'll still be fun trying. Who cares if it's wet or dry, just so long as you do it. Anyway from the look of you it won't be much longer before you're shooting sperm everywhere." "Maybe," he said flatly and without much enthusiasm. "I guess I'll start eventually, but I wouldn't take any bets on it happening soon," he added mysteriously. "Huh? Maybe, but your balls look like it isn't that far way. I'm certainly in no hurry, that's for sure. I like you just the way you are. Anyway, there isn't very much you or I can do about it either way. You start when Nature says you're ready start." He smiled enigmatically and studied his small hairless penis for a moment. It was lifted up slightly by the recent swelling in his ripening testicles, though it was still immature and disproportionately small for this slender body. "Well, I still wouldn't take bets on me having wet ones soon, that's all," he said with an air of superior knowledge. Juan reached out and took the condom from my hand. He inspected it as he rubbed the thin latex membrane between his fingers and made the semen squelch inside it. He grinned at me cheekily. "It's weird stuff isn't it?" he observed as he squeezed my semen up and down the rubber tubing. "I mean,... well it doesn't look as though it could hurt me if you did it inside my butt." "It wouldn't hurt you," I said truthfully. "But you're smart to be careful. The whole point is that you don't know who's safe and who has Aids." "Yeah, I guess," he said without conviction. "It would be really dumb to get fucked by a guy and then die because you were too stupid to use a rubber." I nodded and playfully caressed his soft hair. "Do you think he's cute?" Juan asked as Stian climbed into the rigging of the clipper ship and revealed the smooth golden tan of his legs. "Huh? Is he cute? Yes, I s'pose so," I muttered. I glanced sideways at the beautiful, naked youngster next to me. There really was no comparison with the boy on television, unless you were partial to blond boys. Whatever advantages Stian had because he was blond, Juan surpassed with his effeminate features. I remembered when I had first seen the boy outside my room. From the outset, his sexuality was indeterminate. Like a complex mechanical structure, the precise physical and emotional conditions of manhood were supplemented by vague and ambiguous features that were as much female as male. "He's cute, I guess. He's certainly not as good-looking as you are, Juan," I acknowledged quietly. For some reason, I had wanted to say `beautiful' but the word seemed inappropriate to describe what I now knew to be a twelve-year-old boy. "Yeah?" Juan snuggled closer against me and lay his head on my shoulder. He watched the television over my chest as his fingers casually stroked my side. Occasionally his fingers moved onto my chest and playfully tugged at my hair or rubbed over my nipples, giving little pinches as he went. I stroked his cheek, drifting my fingers over his little ears, tracing delicate lines over the smooth skin of his neck and jaw, sometimes going as far as his shoulders but never lower. We watched as the clipper ship reached the Indian Ocean. It foundered in a furious storm as pirates attempted to take control. As Stian dived into the hold of the sinking ship to rescue the girl-heroine, Juan giggled. "Do you think he's straight?" he asked softly. "I really thought he was going after his sailor friend for a while and now he's chasing her. I hope he doesn't fuck her?" "Not on the Disney channel!" I choked. "Would you rather have him gay?" "Wouldn't you?" Juan returned quickly. "Would you fuck him if you had the chance?" he teased. "Not if you were around," I replied honestly. "I'm around now," he giggled. "So,...." his voice trailed off leaving his lewd suggestion hanging like a temptation unspoken. "So! That's what you have in mind, is it?" Well, we're going to wait until the movie ends, young man," I said in mock seriousness. "You're going to stay here with me tonight so there's no rush. Besides, Juan, you look wiped out." Right on cue, Juan yawned sleepily. "Tell me what happened become you came here, Juan," I asked gently as I gestured vaguely above me. He shook his head as his lips compressed. "Juan, you have to trust me. Please? Tell me what happened with the, uh,... what was his name,... Luchi,... uh,... Luchiano guy?" The boy shuddered and jerked away. "How do you know about Mister Luchiano?" he demanded. He was suddenly frightened and he cringed back away from me. "How do you know about him?" he repeated as his voice became louder and more panicked. "It was on the TV while you were on the bathroom. There was something about this place and then they talked about a murder in LA and I think, at least I think they said that he was involved somehow. Uh, he was arrested a bit after you came in here." "Goddamn shit," Juan swore. "What in the hell am I supposed to do now?" "I don't know. Why don't you tell me what happened?" I suggested. "I can't! Don't you understand?" He paused as he breathed out with a sigh of frustration. "You don't know who Mister Luchiano is, do you?" I remembered what the reporter had said. "He's in the Mafia, isn't he?" "Yeah, I guess he is. My friend, Bruce,... well,... he kinda told me that Mister Luchiano was into drugs and all that and I had to be really careful. Don't you see, Matt? I can't tell you! They'd kill me! I suppose they'd kill you too if you knew." He was shivering now. All thoughts of amorous affection vanished as he huddled next to me with his thin brown arms locked around his legs. I tried to break though the barrier that the boy had erected between us. "Mister Luchiano,... he's the man who was paying you to have sex with him?" I suggested softly. There was no response but his silence was as good as an admission. It was surprisingly easy to figure out what had happened earlier that night. I thought quickly as I spoke. "There was two people murdered in LA tonight. This Luchiano guy, he was the one who organized it, wasn't he?" Something had happened while Juan was still in the man's room. He had seen or heard something he should not have. He was a witness, that was the only reason why the police and the FBI were searching for him. I placed my arm around Juan's bare shoulders. Suddenly I became very aware of the little frightened boy. He was very different to the aggressive, sexy boy who had seduced me earlier in the evening with his beautiful young body and intoxicating manner. No matter what, I resolved that I would take care of my young friend. I owed the beautiful boy that much, if only as an inadequate reward for the incredible happiness that he had given to me in the space of a few hours. Over the sound of the movie, I heard Juan's subdued sobbing. He was crying softly, letting his fear escape in the tears that trickled down his cheeks. I pulled him closer to me protectively, my only means of providing security to him against a hostile world. Juan was in a terrible predicament if what I expected was actually true. As a witness to a Mafia killing, his life was as tenuous as that of the intended victim. If he went to the police, or even the FBI, and was given protection, he would be eventually found by a Mafia hit man. If he tried to keep his silence, they would still kill him. It was a matter of simple insurance and risk management. Juan was an intelligent boy. He was more than smart enough to figure out that his life would be extinguished shortly no matter what course of action he followed. After a few minutes he calmed down sufficiently to lie down again. He was visibly tired and he cuddled up against me as if seeking my warmth. I massaged his bare back with firm rubs and gentle caresses and within minutes he was fast asleep. My attention was shared among trying to complete my speech for the next morning, following a movie in which I now had very little interest, and keeping watch over the wonderful naked boy beside me. He slept fitfully, often breathing quickly and in shallow gasps as he tossed and turned. He was dreaming and I watched his eyelids flicker then become still, then resume a rapid fluttering that conveyed his inner torment. By ten o'clock I was too tired to watch the closing scenes of the movie, too exhausted to continue my study of the smooth slender form next to me, and no longer interested in polymers and their coefficients of friction. I turned the television off, tossed my notes onto the next bed, and settled down to sleep. Chapter 10. Midnight Affections It seemed as though I didn't sleep very long before I woke up again. For several seconds I lay half awake, barely remembering what had happened earlier in the evening. My young companion stirred slightly and turned onto his side so that he faced me. His breath brushed my shoulder and he snuggled closer. He was deliciously warm and soft as his sleek smooth skin contacted mine and melted into me. Like velvet, his firm belly grazed against my penis. That slight touch was more than enough to make me quiver. My heart surged and blood flooded into my organ. It stiffened rapidly, like a horny teenager, until it was rock- hard and anxious for more than mere proximity to the slumbering naked boy. Now wide awake, I wanted more than a passing glance against Juan's inert body. Again, the memory of what we had shared earlier returned to me. I smiled as I stroked Juan's forehead. There had been a fabulous oozing heat inside his young body that had sucked me in until I was united with him. And then, as his insides had become loose, his passion had been inspirational. I would never forget the eagerness with which he coupled with me. His slender dark body had tightened instinctively, using hidden strength from muscles somewhere in his bowel to compress my rigid penis with undulating waves until I lost control. Unfortunately, I had orgasmed quickly and the oneness that I had felt with him was short- lived. The reason why I had woken returned. Not only was my penis now very erect and hungry for contact with the sleeping boy beside me, but I realized that my bladder was painfully full as well. And yet, despite the discomfort from an increasingly pressing need to urinate, I could not leave the boy alone. Gently I rubbed the engorged glans of my penis against his silky belly, musing silently about how it would feel to orgasm over his flawless flesh. I could imagine my semen gushing out over him, thick white spurts splattering down onto his lithe brown abdomen until it formed a puddle in his navel. I would massage it over his smooth body, working the wetness over his narrow chest and belly until he was bathed in my slippery juice. It was impossible not to be jealous as I wondered how far Juan had gone with other men? My penis throbbed with excitement, desperate to interrupt Juan's repose and communicate my need for intercourse. Unable to put off the inevitable trip to the bathroom any longer, I carefully eased away from the beautiful naked body and climbed out of the bed. Lovingly, and with some guilt, I placed the sheet over his bare torso and sheltered his perfect body from my prying and perverted eyes. The door to the bathroom was closed. The bathroom light was on, illuminating the sodden mess of our clothes, quickly discarded in the heat of the moment, dropped wantonly to the floor as we undressed. I urinated with some difficulty as I forced my still-rigid penis downward. The pressure eased in my bladder and the rush of urine relieved my arousal. The stiffness faded until my penis was no longer rigid though still elongated and swollen. I smiled to myself as I contemplated what my wife would say if she found out that I had spent the night with a boy-prostitute who was not even in his teens. My transgression would be viewed as evil, not only because I had enjoyed every blessed moment but because he was beautiful in a way that she could never acknowledge. As I shook off the last drips it was impossible not to make the obvious comparison between Juan and my wife. She paled in contrast. He was sexy in a way that I had never imagined possible. My discovery was both wonderful and exciting. Juan may have supplied his body to meet the depraved demands of other men, but above all, he was a sensual boy. He was not immoral or corrupt but simply expressing a natural lust. Perhaps he was oversexed and lewd, but he was mine, even if only for one unforgettable night. I started to pick up the wet clothes, wringing out streams of water over the basin before I straightened them out and hung them over the shower rail. My trousers were unwearable without dry-cleaning but my morning presentation was the furthest thing from my mind as I wondered what Juan would wear in the morning if his clothes had not dried out. Nothing, hopefully. I could spend the entire day with him in bed, both naked as we explored the physical limitations of our bodies. I studied Juan's pants and top, sizing up the boy who had worn them. Now cold and wet, they seemed too small for a twelve-year-old boy, smaller even than Cassie's clothes, and she was a year younger. With the clothes over the rail and the towels over the side of the bath, the bathroom looked considerably less like a whorehouse. Only one thing remained to be dried out and that was Juan's gym bag. It lay where he had abandoned it on the side of the vanity near the mirror. Knowing that I would violate his privacy by opening it, yet suspecting the worst, I knew I had to inspect it. I glanced around behind me and carefully pulled the zipper open. Inside, the dark blue of wet denim jeans confronted me. I started to tug them out of the bag. "What are you doing? That's my stuff!" I spun around. Juan was standing in the doorway. Visibly angry, his eyes narrowed as he glared at me. I took my hand away from the jeans quickly. "I'm just spreading out our clothes so they can dry off by tomorrow morning. There's still a lot of wet things in your bag," I replied guiltily. "It doesn't matter!" Juan returned quickly. "That's my stuff!" he repeated. "What have you got in here, anyway?" I asked as I lifted the bag up by the handle. "This thing is heavy. No wonder you almost fell off the balcony." "Nothing!" he retorted. Juan hesitated. "Just my school books and stuff, that's all." Then suddenly aware that we were both stark naked and that I was half erect, he grinned. "I woke up and you weren't there. I wanted him," he added as he eyed my groin meaningfully. I grinned back at him, relieved that his anger had dissipated. "Well they sure are heavy. I think we ought to get your jeans out so they can dry. We ought to get your books out as well. They'll be ruined if we don't." "I don't care," he said. He smiled slyly. "You want me to suck him now?" he offered. I glanced at the opened gym bag and wondered what was inside that needed such protection. He watched my slow response and sensed my suspicion. "But maybe,..." he paused, "you'd rather finish what you started," he added huskily as he raised his eyebrows suggestively. "You want me to fuck you again?" I asked with pretended consternation. Juan shrugged. "I want what you want," he murmured. His small hand casually moved to his genitals and he cupped his fingers under his little scrotum as he backed away from the doorway. His thumb looped around his penis and he squeezed gently. His dark eyes glistened in the light from the bathroom, beckoning to me. I nodded and he smiled. "You butt's going to be real sore tomorrow," I teased. "I'll survive," he giggled. "You better go find the rubbers, Matt. I think they're somewhere near the bed. I've gotta pee first." Whatever was inside the gym bag could wait. I grinned as I stepped forward. As I passed beside Juan, I lunged for him and clasped him around the chest and hips. Effortlessly I lifted him up into the air and swung him around so that he was head down. He laughed as he struggled to escape. His legs flailed valiantly and dangerously close to the ceiling. Afraid that he would fall, he locked his arms around my legs, then reassured, grasped my penis with one hand and squeezed it tightly as I carried him towards the bed. As I lifted him even higher to deposit him on the bed, his firm buttocks were only a few inches from my nose. With his legs wide apart, I smelled the musky aroma of the juices from deep inside his body. It was an intensely arousing smell. "I really have to pee," Juan complained gleefully as I eased him down onto the bed so that he took most of his weight on his thin arms. "You want me to fuck you or not?" I demanded crudely. "Yeah, I want to. But I have to pee first. I'll do it on the bed, otherwise," he added amid hysterical giggles. I let him drop and he collapsed onto the bed. "You better hold the end of your dick really tight. That's the advantage of having a foreskin. But if you do have to go, just do it on your side of the bed," I laughed. I squatted down to find the condoms. Fortunately my hand came to it immediately and I stood up again, withdrawing one of the packets as I climbed over the grinning boy. I knelt between his outstretched legs. In the few seconds that it had taken to come from the bathroom my penis had reached the apogee of erection. It pulsed with the sudden surge of adrenaline as I leaned formed over the submissive boy. He waited, like a virgin before Priapus, knowing that the huge phallus before him would soon be deep inside him again. He licked his lips and breathed heavily as he watched me unroll the condom down the length of the shaft. Even in the dim light reflected from the bathroom, I could see that the boy's excitement was every bit as much as my own. Instinctively, we both understood that this time would be very different to the first time. As soon as the condom was on, Juan took over. His hands trembled as he covered my penis with K-Y. He knew enough to lubricate it thoroughly. Making a tube with both hands, he began to masturbate me. Within seconds my penis became impossibly stiff, hardening until it throbbed between his fingers. No longer able to hold back, I clasped Juan's ankles and jerked his feet upwards. I pushed back, positioning his feet behind his ears and lifting his buttocks upward as his hands clenched his legs just behind his knees. I trembled with excitement as I brought my penis towards him. For a moment I considered whether I needed to add more lubrication to his anus but the thrill of seeing the boy's dilated hole overpowered my sense of caution. I probed between his cheeks, forcing my penis like a wedge into his crack and he wriggled back at me. He repositioned himself, lifting his hips up as he curled, then anxiously squirming as my penis sought his opening. No longer timid, not fearful of injuring him, I eagerly pushed forward. Juan jumped as he felt the fullness of my glans bearing into him. His eyes opened wide and he gazed at me breathlessly as I squeezed harder. His flesh seemed to yield, swallowing the tip of my penis with little difficulty. Juan nodded avidly. "`s in," he gasped in surprise. I paused, triumphantly grinning at the eager boy. He was still skittish as he remembered the terror from the previous times. Always aware of the pain that came from being penetrated, yet yearning for the presence of my penis inside him, the young boy had become apprehensive of my maleness. But this time there had been no pain. I spoke the words we both thought. "I didn't hurt you did I," I whispered. It was not a question but a simple statement of fact. "Put him in all the way," Juan breathed cautiously. "I'll go slowly. Tell me if it hurts." I pressed forward. Juan's anus felt like a very tight ring of rubber as it slowly inched along the shaft of my penis. One long, slow thrust took engulfed more than four inches of my penis. His eyes were wide with amazement as he felt my penis and displace his insides. "Oh God!," he groaned. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and nodded abruptly. I pushed forward again, sliding on the slippery film of lubricant and mucus inside him. His body shivered uncontrollably as he realized that my penis was almost entirely impaled within him. "You're,... you're in,... all the way," he gasped as he felt my testicles squash into the side of his buttocks. I nodded back, shaking my head vigorously as I absorbed the delicious heat. His life seemed to flow into me, filling me with his youth and energy. I pulled back gently and forcefully came back into him as I began to thrust. I felt my penis bottom out and he shuddered as I began to distend his bowel and stretch whatever elasticity remained inside him. "So big!" he moaned. "Oh! God, do it to me! Like that! Yeah, do that!" On every outward stroke, I terminated at his prostate, squeezing and flexing my penis in that most sensitive of places until he could stand no more of it. After several minutes, his legs found their way up on my shoulders and I leaned onto him, enveloping his naked body as I hugged him. One hand encircled his shoulders and prevented him movement, the other arm supported his back and buttocks. I nuzzled him, caressing his cheek and forehead with playful kisses. He did not kiss me back. Even as I extracted his manhood with each demanding thrust, his reluctance to engage in the last acknowledgment of his homosexuality was too much for even his lack of inhibition. He smiled back at me, then looked away. Although I did not know it at the time, I suspected that he had never been kissed by a man before. In the thirty years since I had been Juan's age, if I had ever known, I had forgotten what it was like to be a boy prior to the onset of puberty. Without the final relief of ejaculation, a young boy's orgasm is unfulfilling. Denied the end result of a wet climax, a prepubescent boy's desire continues unabated. So it was with Juan. If the sudden spasms that racked his slender sweat-covered body were orgasms, which is what I believed them to be, then he must have experienced half-a-dozen that night. Somewhere between the third and fourth ones, Juan's muscular control faded and his rectum suddenly became loose and spongy. It was shortly after that, as he writhed frantically and then bucked with a sudden spasm that he lost control of his bladder. The wet warmth that flooded out between us was less discomforting to me than to Juan. He shuddered uncontrollably in a paroxysm of delight that left him light-headed and distracted. But while Juan was perturbed and bewildered by his body's spontaneous release, I bathed in his copious urine, shamelessly. I continued to thrust into him. My rhythm was relentless, pulling back slowly in the hot suction of the fluids inside him, never withdrawing further than his prostate, always letting him feel the full power and length of my penis on the return stroke. When my own orgasm was imminent, I slowed, or stopped until the moment passed. Again and again I delayed the inevitable, giving Juan pleasure unlike any he had ever known. But there is a point beyond which no tactic works. My semen has been building at the dam for somewhere close to an hour when I knew it was over. Even a tiny movement of my sensitive organ inside the boy's bowel was enough to bring me inexorably closer to the moment of release. It came closer and closer until it seemed as if only a few seconds remained before we both died. Juan's eyes were closed. He was barely breathing. He had reached the point of physical exhaustion, his slender body all but drained of passion. As I pumped into him savagely, his big dark eyes opened wide in amazement. We groaned together as he felt my penis jerking spasmodically. My hips pounded hard and fast against his slender, shuddering body, slamming powerfully against his raised buttocks as I struggled to get it all out. It was over in a few seconds. We collapsed together and I rolled to one side to avoid crushing him. My softening penis pulled free from him. Just a few seconds before midnight Juan fell asleep again. Chapter 11. The Transformation Both Juan and I slept late. I don't remember anything after I pulled the gooey condom from my penis. I slept soundly, cuddled up close to the sleeping boy and nuzzled into his soft scented hair. I slept until the time he woke me up, but what a way to wake up. It was not unusual for me to be erect and ready for action in the morning, though my hardness was usually wasted. It had been at least five years since I had sex in the morning. Because of the two girls living under the same roof, my wife was adamant that intercourse occurred only at night. Besides, she was not much of a morning person and it usually took two or three cups of coffee before she warmed up. My erection was not wasted with Juan. My penis had responded naturally to his gentle touching and as I awoke, I felt his soft lips tickling along the length of my shaft. His fingers caressed my scrotum with the faintest contact, fluttering across the skin as he manipulated by testicles from one side to the other. As I stirred and twisted slightly into a more comfortable position, I flexed my penis so that it bumped against his mouth. Even with my eyes closed I sensed his amusement. I performed the tightening motion again so that my penis bobbed up to his nose. Juan giggled and I felt the luscious, wet heat of his tongue at it slurped scintillatingly over my aroused organ. I opened my eyes with suddenly increased interest. Somehow, I had expected him to be long gone. The boy had come into my life so unexpectedly, and his impact had been so devastating, that it seemed both illogical and inappropriate that he still be there. But there he was; a slender boy-buddha, a more beautiful sight I had never seen "Hi sleepy head! Awake at last?" Juan said playfully as he looked up from his self-appointed duty. He grinned shyly. His dark eyes sparkled. Sometime earlier, he had gotten out of bed and opened the curtains. Now the sun flooded into the room. He was sitting cross-legged beside me and leaned forward over my thighs. The sheet was dragged down past my knees. From the moisture on my groin it was not the first time that he had licked me there. I grinned back at him. "Hi yourself! It looks like you're having fun," I observed. "I promised you that I'd suck him," Juan smirked. "And I always keep my promises." "How long have you been awake?" I asked as I stifled a yawn. "Oh! A while,..." Juan answered. He winked at me teasingly and then added mysteriously, "Long enough to do it. You won't believe what I did while you were asleep." I raised my eyebrows challengingly and then smiled back at him, more than prepared to play along with his game. "Do you feel okay? I didn't hurt you, did I Juan?" I asked. "I'm okay! I told you already, Matt! Stop asking how I am, pleeaassee?" I replied with a cheerful nod. "I thought you always used a rubber," I added suggestively after a quick glance downward. Unable to continue the pretense, Juan started to laugh. He squeezed the shaft of my penis as hard as he could. The pressure was not all that much but it was enough to make the glans swell and darken. A clear droplet of precum oozed out of the slit. His finger expertly smeared it away and rubbed the slippery fluid over the head of my penis. Again, Juan leaned forward as his mouth opened. His small teeth were perfectly white, like something from an obscene toothpaste commercial. His tongue licked his lips. He smiled as he breathed heavily with growing anticipation. "Ohhhh, that's so nice." My sigh in response to the languid trace of his tongue came quickly. Juan's velvet-soft tongue travelled the saliva-slicked length of my shaft and then poked and swivelled into the loose folds of my scrotum. I felt the warmth of his cheek on my penis and his fingers moved to gently squeeze my testicles. Less than a few seconds passed before Juan squirmed around and scrambled over me. He lay down beside me with his head directly next to my groin. My face confronted his own perfect genitals. It was the first time that I saw his small sex organs up close and it was a truly beautiful sight. I was speechless. His penis was very hard, but even fully erect it was barely the size of my thumb. The foreskin was more than long enough to cover the rounded knob of his glans and still leave a puckered tip at the end. While his testicles were still small, it was clear that the onset of puberty was not more than a few months away for the hairless boy. Too bad, I thought. I liked him the way he was, smooth and hairless. "Can I suck him?" Juan's voice trembled with growing urgency. I nodded immediately as my heart beat accelerated. I could feel my excitement building as the movement of the boy's fingers became faster and stronger. His tongue returned to swirl over the sensitive skin of my penis again and again. I turned my head to the side and saw the box of condoms on the night-stand. The tube of K-Y was nowhere to be seen and for a moment I wondered what had happened to it. But we didn't need lubrication for what Juan had in mind. I tore open one of the packets as Juan's lips began to kiss my penis lightly, then as kisses turned to gentle bites and I watched his mouth open wide to take my penis into him, I guided him away with a gentle shove to the side. I sat up, leaned forward, and clumsily placed the condom on my throbbing penis. Juan grinned at me cheekily. "I would have done that," he said. "Yeah? Before or after he was in your mouth?" I teased. Juan shrugged nonchalantly as he moved closer to me and reached for my penis. "You know, the rubber really tastes crappy," he complained. "Then don't suck him." I laughed. Slowly the boy smiled at me. "You know, the first time I sucked a man's dick I didn't use one. `Course, the guy didn't cum in my mouth. He was about to, I think, but we kind of got interrupted before he did it," Juan added lewdly. "Well now you know better. There's a lot of risk for you, for either of us in fact, and besides we barely know each other." "I feel like I've known you for years," Juan said. He smiled smugly. "Do you want to see something really weird?" he added. "What? Can you suck your own dick?" I laughed. "This I've got to see." "Suck my own dick? Uh, I've never tried to do that," Juan said seriously. He looked downward. My fingers were stroking the soft, still-flabby flesh where his penis joined to his pubis and scrotum. Hair would eventually sprout there and his puppy fat would disappear, but for now the skin was delicate and very sensitive. He giggled playfully as he watched my fingers caress his rigid little penis. "That feels great," Juan acknowledged. There was a long pause as I continued to fondle his little penis by massaging the tiny glans under its thin covering. "Pull the skin back past the head," he suggested enigmatically. I watched as he took a deep breath. He was visibly worried about something. If there was one thing I learned in grade school, it was to follow instructions. I obeyed despite my misgivings. His foreskin retracted with very little effort on my part. It had obviously been well exercised in the past and the opening stretched wide enough to allow the easy expulsion of his small, purplish glans. At first, I was not surprised as I studied Juan's sex organs with a feeling that could only be described as awe. And then I gasped as I suddenly realized that the minute slit that should have crowned the very tip of the little helmet-shaped head was not there. My sudden intake of air occurred only when I inspected the underside of his small rigid penis. The sight of his deformed glans was totally unexpected. There was no sign of his meatus. I pushed the boy's foreskin downward with the unpleasant sinking feeling that comes when one discovers that absolute perfection is flawed and all is not what it should be. The slit, if that was what the rounded and unnaturally shaped orifice could be called, was nearly at the junction of his foreskin and under the flared head of his glans. It was not the displaced opening that caused me consternation as much as the two broad ridges in his glans that were caused by a tube-like furrow that, under normal circumstances, would have been Juan's urethra. "I have a funny looking dick," Juan said softly. "It's weird isn't it?" I examined the flawed object of my affection as I answered honestly. "Yeah, I guess it is. No, it's not weird,... well, it's different, that's all.... It doesn't bother me that you're different, Juan," I added with sincerity. I smiled and gently touched the head of his penis with my tongue. That there was no opening in the tip was strangely exciting to me. "Well, I think it's weird-looking. And it's hell to piss with," Juan continued sheepishly. I nodded understandingly, uncertain of what I should say next. "It doesn't appear to stop you from wanting to have sex, Juan," I teased. "For a twelve-year-old boy, you must be the horniest thing alive." Juan grinned at me and gently brushed his lips against the bulb end of my condom. "So Matt, if I want you to suck mine, what am I going to use for a rubber?" he asked with boyish bravado. His question presented a dilemma, both because I was still uncertain whether I wanted to reciprocate and return the pleasure, and also because an adult condom would obviously be ineffective on his boy- sized erection. I had never engaged in oral intercourse -at least cock sucking- before, though the opportunity, now raised to me, was of such interest that my heart began to beat faster with the mere thought of taking Juan's genitals into my mouth. "What does it taste like,... the rubber I mean?" I asked awkwardly of the boy. Juan shrugged again. "It's gross, man! It's kind of,... well I don't know,... it's like sucking a balloon or something. Bruce, he's a friend of mine, he says that it tastes like pencil erasers. I suppose it does, kind of." "It doesn't sound very good," I admitted diffidently, though still enthusiastic about sucking the delicious morsel. "If you promise me that you haven't got Aids or anything, I'll suck yours without using one if you want me to," Juan offered. "The hell you will," I countered. "I don't know who taught you about using condoms, but whoever it was, he did the right thing by you." "Yeah, well,... The rubber tastes really gross, man!" Juan flipped at my rigid penis. "Maybe you should just jerk him off," I said. "Boring!" Juan whined. He smiled and took hold of my penis with his fingers. His fingertips and thumb could not meet unless he squeezed tightly. "You have a big dick, Matt," he acknowledged crudely. "Maybe,... " he paused. "What if I want him in my butt again?" I raised one eyebrow in response to his question and answered it with silence. We looked at each other. "You want to do it again?" Juan asked softly. "You do, don't you?" "You're going to hurt yourself," I warned. "It's my butt, and anyway, if it doesn't bother me, why should you worry. Besides, I think it's supposed to start getting easier, the more you do it up there," he replied with some uncertainty. Juan smiled and scrambled to his knees. He looked over the side of the bed in a futile effort to find the tube of K-Y. "Where the fuck did we put it?" he asked. I shrugged. He gave up and glanced back at me as his fingers explored between his cheeks. "I'm still pretty slippery inside, I think. We could try doing it without it. I suppose we could even use some spit on him to get started." "It's got to be in here somewhere. Maybe it's in the bed?" I suggested. Juan leered at me as he reached out and grasped my rigid penis. "I'm game. If I'm not slippery enough back there, then we can look for it." "You're a spunky little guy, aren't you?" I laughed. "Okay! Here's the deal. This is your idea so you can do all the work this time. I'm going to lie here and enjoy it. It's your turn anyway." The boy smirked as he realized what I had in mind. Without a word he straddled my legs. Kneeling over my thighs, he began to rub my penis. His hand moved rhythmically as he sought to induce the maximum degree of stiffness. I flexed my penis, trying to increase the blood pressure beyond it's already elevated level. After a minute he was satisfied. He leaned forward and drooled bubbly saliva over my penis. He grinned mischievously as he looked up at me and shamelessly smeared it over the latex sheath. He added some more saliva before he wriggled forward and positioned himself so that his knees were next to my flanks and his buttocks were directly over my rigid member. Awkwardly, he tried to settle down as he attempted to guide the tip of my engorged shaft to his opening. I felt the soft, warm skin of his firm cheeks. I reached down and gently drew the two globes apart, splitting his crack wide open and exposing his inner sanctum. Juan settled down, his fingers expertly directing my penis into the moist heat that emanated from his little orifice. I pulled his bottom open even further as he pushed downward. His expression changed quickly as his face contorted, not from pain but as a result of trying to accept my huge penis. He strained down as if trying to defecate. Then he gasped suddenly as he felt the fullness embed itself, stretching his anus to the limit as my penis started to penetrate. Juan gasped again as he realized that the mushroom head was partially inside him. "Jesus," he murmured. "Matt,... Matt, I think it's going in." Juan took a deep breath before he tried again. I could feel the constriction of his small anus. It was impossibly tight, like a small tube that could not be accessed no matter how hard we tried, but ever inviting another attempt. "Push up hard,... when I push down,... okay?" Juan instructed. He panted heavily as if the words alone caused him great effort. He closed his eyes and I watched his body tense. A quick breath and then he shoved downwards, grinding and wriggling as he forced himself against my penis. Watching Juan struggle onto my penis was incredibly exciting and, as it turned out, I did not need to assist. The swollen glans of my penis pierced him like a blunt stake, bursting through his body's resistance as his anus swallowed it. He groaned loudly and stopped his downward thrust. His eyes closed tightly as if to block out the pain. His lips were clenched as if to prevent the cry that threatened to break out. My own response came immediately. As I felt his body engulf mine, I lifted up. My penis rammed upward, sliding on the residual lubrication inside his taut, hot body. My upward motion caught him by surprise and his eyes opened in amazement. In slow motion, my penis sunk further into him. One long, forceful thrust was all that it required. With each new inch inside him, Juan's expression became more shocked. When I finally stopped, my penis was totally enclosed in his bowel. Juan was sitting hard against my body, his scrotum pressing into my lower belly as mine was squashed into his crevice. It seemed impossible that my penis could have penetrated so far into his slender body without coming out again. It was so deep inside him that it seemed that there should be something bulging out his belly. We were both breathing heavily, each stunned by the ease and speed at which my penis had achieved entry. Juan gazed at me silently as his rectum began to adjust to the presence of my invading organ. "It feels,... so big," he whispered at last. "Does it hurt?" I asked concernedly. I was afraid that I had gone too quickly, pushed too hard, entered too far. There did not seem to be any where near the amount of space necessary to hold my massive shaft inside his narrow hips and slender waist. Juan shook his head abruptly. "It's okay.... Don't ask again!... Ever!" I felt his sphincter shudder as it tried to evict me. There was a quick tremble through Juan's body as he fought back against his resisting spasm. "Just try to relax," I suggested. He smiled weakly. "Jesus! What do you think I'm trying to do?.... God!... It's huge, Matt. I feel like,... like I'm going to burst,... if I move even a little bit." "Then don't move!" "I don't plan to,... for a while at least.... It went in so easily, Matt." "Maybe it does get easier after a while. God, you're so tight." "I hope so.... It feels awesome.... Try to move him a bit." I flexed my penis and made it jerk a fraction of an inch. Juan grunted. I flexed it again and produced another grunt. Juan's body spasmed as his sphincter tightened reflexively. It was a hopeless fight that had no chance of victory. It was followed by a sharp intake of air as the boy summoned his strength. I felt him pull away slightly and then settle back down again. He swallowed as his body swallowed my penis again. "Man, that's absolutely fucking awesome," he breathed out. Juan took another still-deeper breath and closed his eyes in concentration. He lifted away slowly as his thighs tensed. I felt my penis being dragged through the incredible heat of his rectum. It was compressed so much that it seemed to be stretched out before his flesh yielded its grasp. He pulled away until only the glans of my penis remained inside him, grabbed by the constriction of his anus. He breathed, swallowed again, and began the slow push down again as his lithe body trembled with growing delight. My penis slid back inside him, going all the way before he relaxed again. Remarkably, I saw that his small penis was shrivelled up. I wondered when Juan's erection had faded and then realized that it had happened almost as soon as my penis had taken possession of him. I fondled the tiny organ gently, amused that it could be so lifeless when its owner's body was experiencing so much joy. I stretched it out, caressing the smooth skin lovingly as I teased the little bulb of his glans. Minutes passed quickly as Juan continued his slow movements. Each downward thrust seemed to be less stressful and more enjoyable until it was obvious to both of us that his bowel had loosened considerably. As his rectum stretched, his penis became stiffer. Stimulated at both ends, Juan became increasingly charged with frenetic energy. His back and forth movements became faster and more demanding as his penis and prostate were tortured. Some tightness was still present at his anus when my penis was completely inside him but it was no longer painful for him. Deeper inside him there was a delicious sloppy juiciness and a lush heat that sucked on my penis silently every time that Juan moved against me. I could have stayed there forever. My orgasm came only a minute or two before nine o'clock. By then, my presentation was the furthest thing from my mind. I existed only to satisfy the beautiful naked boy who sat triumphantly above me. Judging by his frenzied motions and the growing expression of pure ecstasy, I was certain that Juan had climaxed as well only moments before he collapsed. Any doubt that I might have had was dispelled by the contented smile of unadulterated bliss as he lay above me. His slender body heaved with each gasping breath. We lay together in silence for a long while. The aroma of our union lingered and I breathed deeply, savoring the pungent smell of sex. Juan lay over me, unmoving as he sought solace in my embrace. I caressed his slender, smooth back with gentle strokes from his moistened buttocks to his bony shoulders. He was exhausted. I could not believe what had happened. In those wonderful seconds that preceded my release, my mind had been whirling in frenzied confusion. I wanted to shout out that I loved Juan, that I loved him more than I had ever loved anyone else. Such feelings would have been impossible only a day earlier. Physically drained, but more satisfied emotionally than I believed possible, there appeared to be no other solution than to keep the boy with me. Without him, life did not seem to be worth living. My mind reached its decision despite all logic and caution to the contrary. However, my first problem was how to get Juan out of the hotel. If what I expected had occurred, it was highly likely that ever exit was closely monitored. How could I get past both police and Mafia? Curiously, my solution came in a way that was totally unexpected. "That was better than fucking a woman, isn't it?" he whispered obscenely. His dark, liquid eyes looked into mine. He knew the answer as well as I did. We had shared something very special. It was more than lust but neither of us wanted to acknowledge it aloud. "Much, much better. It's a pity I didn't marry you," I added. "Even if I was a girl, you still couldn't marry me," he said quietly. Juan giggled as he rested his cheek on my chest. My fingers moved downwards into the deep cleft between his buttocks. I felt the slimy looseness that marked the entrance to his body. He did not possess a vagina but he had what I wanted more than anything else in the world. My finger slowly stroked against the spongy flesh as it circled the dilated opening. For the time being at last, his little hole was stretched beyond its elastic limit. My finger slipped inside and carefully probed into the weakened lining of his rectum. Juan moaned softly as my finger entered to its full depth, curled, and rubbed carefully into his bruised prostate. "Huh? Because you're too young?" I asked. "That's nice! Yeah, because I'm only twelve! And I guess because you're married already," he answered quietly. I sighed. I was married, unfortunately. "Maybe you could adopt me or something,... but you already have two daughters." It was at that moment that I was struck again by the similarity between Juan and my stepdaughter, Cassie. In appearance, there was little likeness beyond the small mouth and delicate lips. And yet in other ways, in certain mannerisms, in the strange aura of still- unformed sexuality, in the femininity that Juan exuded, they were very close. Juan could easily pass as a girl. Nobody would be looking for a girl! I removed my finger from his anus, gave him a playful, loud slap on the bottom, and rolled away from under him. I sat up, turned around, and looked back at the beautiful naked boy beside me. My mind was made up. "What's up? Is something wrong?" Juan asked. "You don't want to do it again already, do you?" he teased. "No! Well, yes. Of course I want to do it again. But not now! Nothing's up! Everything is wonderful! Juan, I've got a wonderful idea but the first thing I've got to do is get you out of here." "Huh? Out of your room? I don't understand." "No, you dummy. Out of the hotel! Don't you think they'll be looking for you?" "Oh! Yeah! I guess so! I suppose the cops will be downstairs. And Mister Luchiano too, for that matter." "Right on! We have to move fast. Room service will want to get in here soon and clean up. I was supposed to check out today and,... Shit! It's nearly nine-thirty! Fuck! I was supposed to give my presentation at nine! Hell!" Juan rolled onto his back and started to giggle. "What's so funny?" I demanded. "You are! I like it when you cuss! You sound just like a kid! Shit! Fuck! And hell!" It was impossible not to laugh with him as I stomped into the bathroom. I shouted out orders as I went. "I'm going out for a while, Juan. I want you to stay here. Lock the door after me and don't open it to anyone. Understand? No one! If the maid comes around, don't answer. She won't be able to get in." "Where are you going?" "Shopping. I have to buy a few things to get you out of here. I have a great plan to get you out of here." "A plan? What sort of plan? The cops are sure to see me if I leave here. And even if they don't,..." Juan's voice trailed off, leaving the thought unspoken. He had disobeyed Luchiano's instructions and he had a good idea that the consequences would be very unpleasant. I dropped the used condom into the toilet and hoped that it wouldn't float, rinsed my face off and came back into the bedroom. Juan was lying on his side. His right leg was lifted up and bent at right angles as he used a couple of tissues to clean between his buttocks. The temptation to stay with him was incredible. "It's pretty messy back there, huh?" I asked as I opened my suitcase and located my jeans. Time was running out. I was beginning to wonder whether the conference organizers would call the hotel to find out where I was. If so, my time was very limited. Then I remembered that I hadn't filled out the registration form. No one from Norton knew where I was staying. My panic eased slightly. "Real messy. There's stains all over the sheets. I didn't bleed but." "I'm glad your butt didn't bleed, but don't end you sentences with but," I chided as I dressed. Juan grinned and tossed the balled-up tissues at me. "It's your mess in my butt, but." "No way." I laughed. "Remember I was the one with the rubber." "Okay!" the boy agreed happily. "But it wouldn't have happened without you." "Not wrong. Maybe you can sponge the worst of the marks out while I'm shopping," I suggested. "I'll try. How long will you be gone? I should get dressed too, right?" "No, I'll be buying some more clothes for you. Anyway, I doubt if your clothes are dry. I'll be gone about an hour at the most, so you can take a shower. Use my toothbrush, if you want," I added as I put my shoes on. I started towards the door and stopped. I turned around and smiled at Juan. "Remember beautiful, open the door to no one. Oh, and don't answer the telephone, either." He nodded. "Okay, now come over here and give me a good-bye hug," I said. Juan needed no prompting. He hopped off the bed with surprising agility and trotted across the floor as if nothing untoward had happened to him since he woke up. Only a few minutes earlier he had been too exhausted to move. I reached out for him and pulled him into my embrace. Naked boy-flesh jumped into my welcoming arms and I hugged him tightly. Lithe and still hot, his bare sweat-moistened skin was incredibly arousing. His contact was invigorating to say the least. I gently squeezed his bottom and eased him away. Juan followed me into the hallway and we stopped before the door. He looked like a whore after a long, hard night as he grinned at me and shamelessly pressed his small genitals into my thigh. Again we hugged, this time longer and with more force as we merged together. "Lock it and don't open it for anyone!" I instructed as I cautiously opened the door and looked outside. I tousled his ruffled hair before leaving. I heard the lock turn behind me and I walked quickly to the elevator. By my count there were four policemen in the lobby and two standing in the corridor that led out to the rear parking lot. I didn't know what to expect from the Mafia but the man sitting near to the front door looked awfully suspicious. No one showed any interest in me. I walked quickly out to my rent-a-car in the parking lot before I looked back to see whether I was being followed. By myself, it was highly unlikely that I would raise anyone's suspicions. The nearest mall was only a few blocks away. I had discovered it on my way back from the Norton Air Force Base. Thank god for hypermarkets. Everything you ever wanted under the one roof and reasonably priced as well. I went straight to the Girls' Clothing section. There was a good selection in the pre-teen sizes, 8 through 12. The easy part was determining the size I needed to buy. Judging Juan beside what I knew Cassie wore, I figured he was a ten, or close to it. He was much thinner than Cassie, and somewhat shorter, even though he was nearly a year older. Deciding what clothes to buy was much harder. What I wanted was something that a boy would never wear. I wandered through the aisles. Definitely a dress, of some kind, though not the sort to fit the upper body too closely. Better still, a skirt and a loose-fitting top. I picked through the rack and finally decided on a denim skirt that would go with almost anything. The top was more difficult and I settled on two contenders, one was a Texas-style white cotton shirt with embroidered shoulders. It was something that Cassie would wear. The other was LA style, a dark-red tee shirt emblazoned with a picture of a punk-rock band. Continuing down the aisles looking for the other essentials of girl-dom, I picked out a pair of white tights, then a pair of black ones. With my lingering memory of the naked boy in the hall, it was easy to imagine Juan in them. With his slender legs, the result would be simply stunning and more than likely be enough to get him laid at the first opportunity. I cruised deeper into the Underwear section and selected a packet of panties before I spotted the ultimate in girl's underwear--low-cut, glossy-nylon briefs with brightly colored floral patterns. I ditched the panties and picked out three pair. Even if Juan didn't wear them, they'd make an interesting present for Cassie. I looked over my selection and pondered what else I needed to buy. Something warm, something fashionable, a vest of some sort? Maybe a jacket? I expected that Juan would go for a denim jacket but not Cassie. I ambled back towards the clothing section. This close to winter the selection had been picked over. I pulled out one jacket that looked interesting. Floral-patterned black leather! It was the only one left, it was size 10-12, and it was expensive. Eighty-two dollars, and it probably would not fit Cassie for more than a few months, if at all. I smiled to myself as I remembered that I had just spent the night doing unbelievably enjoyable things with the most wonderful boy in the world. I placed the jacket in the cart. Juan more than deserved it. But I still needed something else, something that emphasized the girl and prevented any association with a boy. I formed a mental picture of Juan's features, of Cassie, and the differences between them. Make- up was what I needed, lipstick and eye-shadow, even nail-polish. I glanced around, reluctant to go into the Cosmetics section. But there was no need to go anywhere. In the center aisle was a selection of junior kits, prepackaged trays of make-up essentials ready for Christmas shoppers looking for last-minute stocking stuffers. Almost blond, Cassie would want the lighter, muted shades but with Juan's darker coloring, I picked the matched set of burgundy and purple. As an afterthought I threw in a tri-color box of hair coloring. Like Cassie, Juan would look awfully cute with a punk hairstyle. This was going to be very expensive I decided as I examined the things in the cart. I still needed shoes and a curling wand. Several minutes I headed off to the check-out counter. Even as I neared the counter, I remembered one more thing. Tape! The last thing I wanted was an accidental erection on the way out of the hotel. One hundred and ninety three dollars, and a buck-fifty for the tape, and I left the store and headed back to the hotel. With my purchases concealed in a large shopping bag, I quickly made my way back to my room. I approached the door to room 635 with trepidation, half expecting to find policemen waiting inside. I knocked lightly on the door, waited a moment, and inserted my key. The door was still locked and I knocked again, a little louder this time. I waited with growing fear that something was wrong, knocking several times as three minutes passed. However, when I pressed my ear hard against the door, I easily guessed what Juan was doing from the sounds coming through the panel. A few seconds after the noise ended, I heard the faint sound of someone against the other side of the door. "It's me," I whispered. "Open up. I've been waiting here forever." There was an audible click and the door opened inwards. I stepped inside and quickly closed the door behind me. Juan was as naked as he had been when I left the room nearly forty-five minutes earlier, though his wet skin and hair indicated that he had stepped out of the shower only seconds before. He continue to towel himself dry as I locked the door. Now that I was fully awake and refreshed from the cool air outside, the boy seemed even more beautiful than I remembered. I studied him carefully as he briskly rubbed the towel over his slender body. "Sorry Matt," Juan grinned. "It didn't take you very long. Are there cops downstairs?" "I counted six of them and there was one guy who looked like he might be from Sicily. Did anyone come by?" I asked nervously as I guided him into the bedroom. We had a lot to do and there was no time to waste. Juan shook his head and obediently sat down next to the table. The morning light streamed through the window and cascaded onto his bare flesh. In the sun, Juan's smooth tanned skin had a golden hue, while his untanned regions were deliciously and temptingly pale. "What did you get?" he asked curiously as he eyed the shopping bag. "I'm hungry. Did you get some food? Are you going to tell me what the plan is?" I was suddenly aware that I was very hungry and I was not surprised that the boy was similarly starving. Food had not been on my mind when I was shopping and I regretted my forgetfulness. Still, if we had more time, Juan looked good enough to eat. "`Fraid not! You'll have to wait for breakfast. You're going to have a sex change. When we walk out of here you're going to be a girl, young man." The boy stared at me in surprise as I grinned at him. "A girl? You're going to make me into a girl?" he finally mumbled self- consciously. "Not quite, but you'll look enough like a girl so they don't stop us downstairs. They won't be expecting you to walk right past them in a dress." I chuckled happily as I pulled my first trick out of the bag. I opened the box, quickly looked for an outlet, and plugged in the hair- curler. Juan's gently waving hair was about to become tightly curled. While it heated up I opened the tri-color box of washable hair dye, selected the purple shade, and wiped the sponge through the center of his hair. BY the time I finished there was a magenta plume beginning from his forehead and tapering all the way to the nape of his neck against a plum-colored streak about two inches wide. As the curler did its assigned task on the back of Juan's head, I went to work on his finger nails. His fingers were long and thin and the nails were narrow. The nail-polish color was an iridescent imperial-purple. If Juan had been a girl, it would have been an ideal match for his dark complexion. His nervousness, or what I imagined to be nervousness, slowly faded and he began to smile as he watched me in the mirror. He was reluctant about the hair dye at first but as the curls formed he quickly became more enthusiastic. With each finger painted, his hands became less and less boy-like. I relocated the curling wand several times. The effect was startling. His hair was more than long enough to curl several times and it was still wet enough to do exactly that. Satisfied with my handiwork, I changed to his face and began the most difficult part of my assignment. Privately, I wished that I had watched either Cassie or her sister more closely. But even with my inexperience, the eye-shadow, highlighter, and lipstick wrought the most surprising changes imaginable. Strangely, the alterations suited him well. Anything but an aberration, there was a metamorphosis that emphasized his delicate features and his big, dark eyes. By the time I finished the last touches of make-up, Juan was no longer male. He, more accurately she, was now an extraordinarily beautiful girl. I let Juan pick out the clothes he wanted to wear. Black tights, black and gold briefs, punk tee-shirt, skirt, and shoes. I stood back and watched Juan dress. He grinned happily. It was hardly the reaction I anticipated but one that was strangely satisfying to me. With each new piece of clothing, he surveyed the result in the full-length mirror. I was amazed at the transformation. Twelve-year-old boy had become ten or eleven-year-old girl and was every bit as alluring as the original model. I remembered the tape at the last minute. "There's one more thing," I said. "What are you going to do with the tape?" "What if junior decides to stick out at the wrong time?" "Oh!" Juan giggled. "Yeah I guess that could be kind of embarrassing. Only he's hard now and he's pretty much hidden under my dress," Juan observed. "We're not taking the risk. Drop your panties and lift up the skirt so I can see the equipment," I said crudely. Juan complied and I moved closer. His penis was inflexible. It was incredibly stiff, much harder than he had been earlier in the morning. His sex organ had flushed and reddened, tiny blue veins bulged, and his glans was swollen under the foreskin. I was fascinated as to the source of what was visibly an intense arousal for him. That dressing up in a girl's clothing stimulated the boy to this degree was so remote that I did not consider the possibility. I walked into the bathroom, wet a washcloth with cold water, and returned to the bedroom. Juan's erection had not abated. After several minutes of cold compresses, the stiff little penis began to wilt. As soon as the pressure eased enough, I looped the tape twice around the end of a small softening penis and relocated it underneath. Positioned into the soft scrotum, with one small testicle on either side, Juan's penis reached back to the beginning of his crack. I secured the tape on the insides of his cheeks and inspected the anatomical modification. It was crude but highly effective. I lifted the satin-smooth briefs and tights up from his knees and smiled. Between the legs, Juan could easily pass for Cassie, even in a bikini swimsuit. He was no longer a boy. "Okay," I laughed, "it looks like you're ready." Juan smirked as he studied the reflection of a very different person in the mirror. "Awesome! Hey Matt, I really do look like a girl," he breathed out in admiration. I acknowledged his appreciation with a big smile as I began to pack my bags. I was more than pleased with the end result, though not solely because of the outward effect of my accomplishment. I sensed that I had pleased Juan in a way that neither of us really understood. "If you want to take any of your stuff with you, you better put it this," I said. I passed him a nylon bag that had contained fifty copies of my paper. Under normal circumstances, I would have used it to store copies of other papers that I picked up at the conference. "Take out whatever you want from your gym bag but leave the wet things out of this one. Maybe I can find you a plastic bag for anything you really want to keep. We'll ditch the bag and your other clothes in the trash on the way out of here." Juan nodded and darted into the bathroom. I grinned as I watched the lean body, still awkward in a skirt, tights, and sandals, but looking very much the part of a pre-teen girl. I silently prayed that my plan would work. Five minutes later we left the room. After a brief scramble under the bed I found the K-Y, the box of condoms, and a missing shoe. I hurried Juan out and closed the door after me. On the way to the elevator, I placed the shopping bag in the trash chute. It bulged considerably and was already damp from Juan's wet clothes. Even the various wrappings from the new clothes went into the trash. Other than a few dirty smears on the sheets there was no sign of what had transpired in Room 635. "Okay, Juan. I want you to listen closely." I said breathlessly. My heart was pounding and I clenched my hand tightly around the handle of my bag to stop it from trembling. "When we get out, stay close. I want you to stay next to me. I have to check out first. While I'm doing that I want you to keep back about twenty feet from the desk, don't look at the desk clerk. Just kind of amble around looking bored." Juan nodded nervously, shuffling his feet, grasping his new bag tightly. "Jesus, I can't keep calling you Juan, can I?" I muttered. I was as nervous as my young companion. "Just remember from now on, you're a girl. You have to act like a girl but don't overdo it. What on earth will I call you?" "How about Cassie? That way you won't forget my name," Juan suggested after a moment's thought. "Uh? Hmmm,..." I equivocated guiltily. Naming Juan after my step- daughter seemed very wrong and yet it was also appropriate. "No! Not Cassie,... Casey! From now on you're Casey!" "Casey?" Juan said carefully as he tried the name on. "Yeah! I like it! Casey what?" "Casey Burton, you dick-head!" I laughed. "Okay, here we go," I added as the elevator came to a stop and the doors began to open. END PART ONE