Date: Wed, 03 May 2000 09:46:20 -0700 From: Robert J. Cutter Subject: 'MY MELANCHOLY DANE" Chapter 4 (Man/Boy) Disclaimer: The following is a love story between a man and a boy. It is also interracial and incestuous in nature. It is a work of fiction; all characters are fictitious, as are all situations and locations. MY MELANCHOLY DANE ------------------------------------ Copyright 2000 by Robert J. Cutter - All Rights Reserved The author retains all rights to this story. It is not permissible to distribute it to any newsgroups and/or other web sites without the express written consent and permission of the author. Chapter 4 - A Long, Hot Summer Day and Night One incredibly hot and steamy Tuesday afternoon in early August, a dealer came to visit my studio. His arrival was unannounced - just appeared without prior arrangement. His name was Jerrold Hanold and he said he owned a small gallery in the SoHo section of New York City. He was, I would guess, in his early fifties and dressed in casual but obviously expensive clothes. Accompanying him was a much younger man, very handsome and also impeccably dressed. His name was Nathan and, simply put, he was quite beautiful. Simon and I welcomed them and they made themselves comfortable - as comfortable as pampered New Yorkers can be in a hot loft in New Orleans in the summer. By this time, Simon and I had been living together for two and a half years. We were extremely happy and things had been going well. We were serious lovers and I could not be more contented. Unfortunately, I had not sold very many of my paintings - people came, they looked, they left. Sometimes a buyer would purchase one of my smaller works always commenting how I should produce "more accessible efforts." However, because of my sister's largess, we were not in need of any money. We lived a comfortable, though slightly Spartan, existence. The best part was that we were together. I could not believe how blissful we were and how much we depended on the other. We shared all household chores and made things comfortable for the other. Simon studied hard and was doing extremely well in school. I painted as much as I could and always found time every single day to sketch Simon. This was an absolute must; I had to draw Simon for at least one hour every day. This made for a wonderful "connection" between the two of us. "So what brings you to my studio on a day like this Mr. Hanold?" "Isn't it always like this in New Orleans?" We all laughed. "I've heard that you are a good artist, sir." I was unused to anyone calling me "sir" and it made me slightly uncomfortable. "And where did you hear that, if I may ask?" "You may. I've been speaking to a number of people who are...uh...well, let me put it this way...they are paid to know these things." I smiled at that remark. Simon came back into the room carrying a tray of glasses and a pitcher of iced tea. Both men looked at him - studied him closely actually - and nodded to each other. Simon was dressed only in a pair of cut off jeans and flip-flops; the perspiration on his skin glistened like a million stars being reflected off a tranquil lake. He was absolutely gorgeous; he was perfection. This was not unusual, however. But for some reason he looked particularly appealing and radiant today. "How do you know my work, sir? Obviously, you've seen at least one. But where?" "Your friend Maxie Crawford has one in the back room...er...private room of his restaurant. We saw a painting there; I believe it was called 'Simon - Free 5'. And, if I'm not mistaking, this is the Simon, correct?" Simon looked up at the men and smiled. They returned the smile. "Yes, sir, this is my nephew Simon." "Your nephew? Glad to meet you, Simon," Mr. Hanold said looking the boy over very carefully I thought. He extended his right hand and Simon shook it enthusiastically. "I thank you sir." Simon seemed to realize, maybe instinctively, that Mr. Hanold did not believe that we were related. "My uncle here and my mother are half-brother and half-sister. They have different fathers." The men were taken aback at Simon's forthrightness and laughed somewhat nervously. "So technically I am his half-nephew - if that is possible." "You are a most attractive model and a delightful half-nephew. I'd even go so far as to say that you are quite dazzling." Simon gave him a big but slightly reticent smile, and poured ice tea for everyone. "My associate and I would very much appreciate seeing what you are currently working on. We would also like to see the paintings and various other works that you can possibly show us." I showed them the half finished portrait of Simon that I was currently working on which was nearby. Nathan whispered something to the older man. Mr. Hanold nodded and indicated to Nathan to begin taking notes. Both men followed me to the area where I kept my completed works. It was practically a jungle of paintings since I did not keep them in any particular order. Very few people ever came to the studio to see them that I never found it necessary to categorize them. I quickly moved thing around and began displaying those that I thought the best of the older works. The two men did not speak to each other but Nathan kept making marks on the pad and the older guy seemed to be signaling him whenever they looked at a painting. The older works were somewhat smaller than the newer ones and the old guy kept on signaling. Then I began to bring out the pictures of Simon and they seemed to become much more interested. These were very large paintings and I had difficulty retrieving them and moving them about. I lined them up along one relatively unoccupied wall of the loft. I was sweating profusely and so was Simon who was assisting me. I thought they were looking at Simon as much as at the paintings. This dog and pony show continued for about an hour and I was exhausted. I also knew that I would have to put them all back later in the day. Nathan was taking copious notes. When the last one was displayed, Mr. Hanold walked up and down the line of paintings while Nathan whispered things in his ear. Both men were also sweating profusely. This incessant pacing continued for about thirty minutes. The only noise in the entire loft was from my rickety fan. Suddenly Mr. Hanold spoke. "A very nice collection, sir. You have my deepest appreciation and congratulations. You are a very fine artist. Very fine." He turned to Nathan and looked at the sheet of paper the younger man was carrying. They both nodded at each other. I looked at Simon with a perplexed expression on my face and he looked quizzically back at me. We were both drying ourselves with towels after the physically exhausting work. Mr. Hanold approached me with his hand extended. "Thank you both very, very much for your time and energy." He leaned over slightly and shook hands with Simon. He placed his left hand over their clasped hands and patted Simon's hand lightly. "You are a superb model, young man." Simon gave him another one of his winning smiles. I began moving towards the entrance to let the gentlemen out. Mr. Hanold then spoke again. "Do you have a lawyer, sir?" I was stunned. What the hell did I need a lawyer for? "Uh, excuse me, Mr. Hanold. I don't understand you." He looked at me with a frustrated expression on his face. "Because I want to purchase a few of your paintings!" I just stood riveted to the spot I was standing on. I could not utter a word. My surroundings became unfamiliar and things began to get out of focus. Suddenly I felt Simon jumping up and down next to me. I looked at his broadly smiling face and heard his shrieks. I gradually returned to the reality of the moment. "You w-w-ant to buy some of my paintings?" I managed to stammer out. "Yes. Four to be precise." I practically ran up to him and grabbed his hand and shook it furiously. "Thank you. Thank you, sir!" was all I could manage to blurt out. Then I remembered what he had said about a lawyer. "Excuse me, sir, but why a lawyer?" "Because this is not just the selling and buying of some paintings; of necessity it is also a legal transaction. The provenance of the works must be clearly established legally and for that there will be lawyers required to draw up the proper papers. Do you have a lawyer?" I shook my head. "Then I suggest you get one fast. I'm leaving New Orleans on Friday and I want to wrap up this transaction by that time." He paused and looked at the paintings again. He slowly walked up to the latest one of Simon. "You are a very fine artist indeed, sir." With that both men left. ---------------------------------------- Simon and I celebrated in absolutely grand, New Orleans style. We had a wonderful and big dinner at Galatoir's (in the Quarter). A lawyer who represented the owners of this restaurant (and whom I had met casually on social occasions) agreed to meet me after dinner so that I could give him the details of what was happening and what I needed. He agreed to handle the transaction and congratulated both Simon and me. We wandered around the French Quarter and then went back to the loft feeling exhilarated and just plain happy to be alive and to be with each other. When we returned to the loft, it was hot and very close. "Maybe we should spend some of the money to put in an air conditioner." "How much money do you think that they'll pay you, uncle?" "I'm hoping for five to eight thousand dollars." Simon gave me a big smile when I said this. "If we're lucky, maybe as much as ten thousand." The heat of the day was radiating back into the loft from the bricks and plaster of the building. It was stifling in the studio. I turned on the large exhaust fan and also the one in the sleeping area to try to get some of the air circulating. Simon undressed quickly and got into bed, laying on top of the sheets in all his boyhood glory. He was exquisitely beautiful. At eleven and a half years, his magnificent and still immature body glistened with perspiration and his eyes danced with glorious sensuality. He had grown taller and his body was stronger from playing soccer and basketball. But it was still a beautiful boy's body - smooth, relatively unmuscled, fabulously sleek and lean, with his glorious and exquisite boy genitals. I could not resist his most spectacular body; even the oppressive heat and humidity of the loft could not deter me. I quickly undressed and joined him on the bed. I, too, was sweating heavily and lay on my back trying to cool down. We both lay that way for a while and then Simon turned his body toward me. He placed his hand on my moist chest and kissed me. I brought one of my hands to the back of his neck and held his head in place while we kissed deeply and longingly. It was delightful, as usual, but it was even more. It was an incredible affirmation of our love and devotion. Simon began to move one of his hands over my sweaty chest. He rubbed me lightly, his hand practically gliding over the perspiration bathing me. He began to pinch my nipples delicately while kissing me again. I was in heaven...a hot, sticky heaven, but heaven nonetheless. Having Simon with me was my fondest wish fulfilled. He nibbled at my nipples, loving washed my steamy armpits and made incredible love to my entire body. He continued to work on my body with a delicacy that I had difficulty reconciling. He was so attentive, so thoughtful and so generous with his love and with his body. I was swept away. I was no longer in New Orleans on a hot summer night. I was floating above everything and everyone, in a place of ultimate freedom and peace. When he got to my crotch, I knew that my wonderful boy was totally accepting of me. He gently peeled back the thick foreskin and made magic love to my cock head. I was so hard that I actually feared my cock would break with too much attention. I knew this was ridiculous, but the incredible feel of the hardness of it had me wondering. He took the entire head into his mouth and his talented tongue did the rest. The feelings were ones of transporting fulfillment. Over the last few months Simon had learned to deep throat my large cock, and the tremendous feeling as the head touched the back of his throat and then slipped in was overwhelming. He carefully and patiently manipulated my balls and he continued to work on the cock. He even brought one finger up to my anus and touched it lightly. I was filled with devastating passion for this marvelous boy and I screamed my appreciation to him as I came in a tremendous onslaught. My body undulated and bucked and I was moaning and shrieking - the most ungodly sounds I could ever remember. If it was at all possible, I was sweating even more than I had been before. The breeze from the fan felt cooling on my skin, even though it was blowing such hot, humid air. Simon slowly let my cock slip from his mouth and throat. The feel of it as it passed his mouth was exciting all over again. He gave me a few last sucks and it was so delightful and so incredibly loving. He lay back and was breathing very heavily. He too was sweating profusely. I sat up on my elbows and looked over at this fabulous, tender boy. He positively glowed - his skin luminous, his beauty awe-inspiring. He looked at me and smiled. I moved my hand to the center of his chest and rubbed him very slightly. "I love you, my incredible Simon." "I am so much in love with you, uncle." "You are my life...and my divine inspiration, Simon." I leaned over and kissed him passionately and lingeringly. His love and beauty completely overpowered me. I knew that there was never such a pure love in my life. I doubted that such a pure love as ours existed elsewhere. "I am so happy that I am living here with you - even if it is very, very hot. I cannot think of another place on this entire world that I would rather be than right here with you." I kissed him lightly on his moist lips. The kiss became stronger and we held each other tightly and affectionately. I looked at him with a serious, direct stare. He gave me a smile and nodded. I knew he felt ready to totally accept me - and what I had to offer to him. For the last five or six weeks, Simon and I had added something new to our wonderful sex play - our incredible lovemaking. I first began a few months ago by playing very tentatively with his gorgeous ass. I would lick it and soothing rub his magnificent mounds. I would also squeeze and manipulate those gorgeous muscles with my fingers. Over the course of time I began to slide my fingers around and along his lovely little crack and lightly touch and fondle his little anus. I needed him to become comfortable with my loving attention to his very private domain. Gradually I began to work one finger into his glorious little hole. At first it just the very tip of my finger without any kind of lubricant - only a bit of my spittle. During the next few days I continued to put a little more and more of that single finger into his very hot anus. This was in addition to the regular occurrences of our mutual lovemaking. I would lick almost his entire body - I loved every square inch of my Simon. I would also lick his small crack and run my tongue over the rubbery and constricted opening of his anus. Simon would go crazy when I did this; he would twist and turn his body, pushing his backside up into my face. He would moan and pant to give out all kinds of ungodly sounds. I was happy to make him this happy. I held Simon's exquisite body. It was a marvel of boyhood beauty. I began to lick him in big, wide strokes of my tongue - like a lioness licking her young. The heat could possibly prove to be a problem, but we jointly decided to try to ignore it. His shoulder, his arms, his gloriously smooth armpits, chest and stomach all came under the attack of my tongue. Simon's superb body began to twitch under my unrelenting assault. He moaned slightly and began moving his head from side to side. His arms were spread wide on the bed. I continued licking down his very moist skin until I came to the magnificent center of him. His wonderful boy penis was fully erect and straining. It had grown so fabulously in the last 2-1/2 years and was now about four inches in length and getting thicker. It was a stunning beauty and I always paused to admire it whenever Simon and I made love. It had an almost hypnotic effect on me. But tonight I was not going to spend an inordinate amount of time on Simon's gorgeous cock - and he soon realized it. Tonight a new and deeper phase of our relationship was about to unfold. Simon wanted it and I desperately wanted to; I knew I needed to completely surrender myself to this magnificent, loving boy. Tonight, finally, we were to be joined. Simon and me...me and Simon...together...as one loving entity. We were to be inexorably locked in a physical union that would be the culmination of our love and devotion. The searing climax of the incandescent passion we had for the other. Epilogue - Ever After The summer thunderstorm was still in full fury. I was standing near a window and would occasionally look over at the bed where my wonderful Simon was sleeping...where I thought he was sleeping. As I looked over into the studio area I could also see the pitiful number of new works that I had completed recently reflecting the flashing light. God! Had I been in a fallow period! I was barely turning out one new work every two weeks. Had I said all that I had wanted to say about Simon? About me? About us? There was suddenly a terrific volley of lightning and I saw he was sitting up, his back against the headboard. He stared at me. It was the eeriest feeling - it was almost like a scene from one of those black and while 1930's horror movies. Simon gave me a tremendous start. "How are you, uncle?" he said rather loudly, to be heard over the raging storm. "I'm fine Simon...really fine. How are you?" "Good. I'm good." "Are you sure?" "Yes, I'm sure." He paused to give me a very nice smile. "I am really sure, uncle!" "That's great Simon...just wonderful!" I slowly walked back to the bed, turned on a light and lay down next to him. I stretched out my body and he cuddled against me. I put my arms around him and drew him as close to me as possible. It felt so wonderful having my fabulous boy, my wonderful nephew, close to me, once again sharing our love - sharing our passion and excitement for each other. He began to sob slightly, and buried his head into my chest. "I'm sorry...very sorry...'bout what I said before, uncle. I know it hurt you...that I hurt you very much...and made you feel...feel very unhappy." "I understand, Simon. I really do." "Are you sure? I love you more than anything in the world, uncle, and I wouldn't hurt you...I really wouldn't hurt you for all the money in the universe. Are you sure?" "I am positive...absolutely positive! It was just the shock of it all...the shock of knowing that you are growing up...that you are no longer a boy..but that you are entering your manhood. That's all it was. I was so surprised when you came in my mouth...when you had such a fantastic orgasm...when you shot for the very first time. It was wonderful...and shocking...and fabulous...all in one. I just couldn't believe it was happening, that's all." "Remember, uncle, I am past thirteen now. You should have realized that it was going to happen soon." "I know...and I did. I saw how your penis was growing...and how hair was beginning to appear in you crotch...and how you balls were starting to hang lower. But I truly didn't want to think of my wonderful, beautiful boy growing into an adult." I hugged him hard and we kissed. "But I'm so happy it's here. Really! I am! You are a man, my gorgeous Simon...a man! And you are my man...from now on, you are my loving man." "That is all I ever wanted to be, uncle. All I ever wanted to be." ------------------------------------------------------------- The next morning I promptly started painting once again. For some reason I could not sleep and at first light I was in front of a canvas. All morning I repeatedly sketched Simon and he was very patient with the demands I made of him. In late August, when he returned to school, I would sketch him every evening. He always complained but not too hard; he really loved posing for me. Every morning I would be in front of a canvas or canvases furiously working. It was as if I was a man possessed. Something new had been added to my repertoire, to my burning desire, to my incredible passion. Simon reaching manhood absolutely set me off. The paintings, the photographs, the sculptures were complete. Simon was complete...completely mine...and I was now complete. The works had new life and depth to them; they conveyed everything - every one of my intentions. I finished a record number of works in that two-month period...those two months following the first time Simon had successfully come. Simon was thrilled that I was so prolific again. And so was my New York dealer. During Mr. Hanold's next visit, he took everything I had and we began plans for a one man showing of my works in the spring in New York City. Simon and I would both be there for the opening and Mr. Hanold predicted an overwhelming success. Life is good now; it is very good. Simon and I still live together in that same wonderful loft in the Warehouse District of New Orleans. The area has become a very desirable one and even upscale. Even though he's only fifteen, Simon has begun his freshman year at Tulane University where he is majoring in the biological sciences, hoping to become a doctor. He also does some writing of fiction, and I believe the writing will eventually win out over medicine. He is an excellent writer, and I'm not only speaking as a proud lover. Simon is an artist, and the artist will push away all other desires and wants. Simon's mom, brothers and sisters visit quite often and we have tremendous fun together. I'm still busy painting him is all the sublime and glorious unfolding of his manhood, although I have recently begun to tackle a new subject for many of my works. The three of us are very happy living together The End Thanks for reading my story. Please take a minute to e-mail me any comments you may have. I appreciate anything that you, the reader, have to say. I am at: cutter57@hotbot.com. Please include /RJC57/ on the subject line as well as the title of the story. I hope to answer all e-mails.