The following contains scenes of sexual
activity between males. If it is illegal for you to read this in your
jurisdiction or if you feel you may be offended by doing so, please
read no further. The characters portrayed in this story may engage in
behaviors that would today be considered unwise and unsafe. The author
does not encourage such behavior: nor does he condone the violation of
any laws. Please respect yourself and your partners. Please do not copy
or distribute this story without the knowledge or permission of the
This story contains some elements of a previous
story of mine, The Secrets of Waldo.
If you would like to read other works by me, go to the Nifty Home Page
and click on the FreeThinker link under Prolific Authors.
All characters in the story
are fictional and any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is
purely coincidental. This is fiction and a fantasy. It did not happen.
Any use of racial epithets is not intended to be
offensive in any way, but is used to show the state of mind of the
character using them. The author rejects all forms of bigotry and
racism, as the story will show.
I would like to know what you think. If
comments or suggestions, please email them to my new address: fthinker@ gmail.com. Thank
so much for reading my story and
for the wonderful support you have given me over the last three years.
Special thanks to Bill L for his special help.
Courage and Passion
school-boy, above all others, is not the simple being the world
imagines. In that young bosom, are often stirring passions as strong as
our own, desires not less violent, a volition not less supreme. In that
young bosom, what burning love, what intense ambition, what avarice,
what lust of power, envy that fiends might emulate, hate that men might
Benjamin Disraeli, British Prime
Minister and novelist, Coningsby,
The Many Forms of Love and Friendship
A brisk October breeze blew through the shorts of
the hundred or so boys running around the grounds behind Emerson Middle
School. Ethan was having serious trouble keeping up with Robby and
Zhenya as they rounded the east end of the playing fields. Sean had
completely given up on any pretense of a respectable run and was far
behind the pack, struggling just to finish one lap.
With the afternoon sun in his eyes, Ethan didn’t see
Biff LaFrance maneuvering back until he was even with him. Nor did he
see Gavin Dietrich moving forward from behind to Robby’s left. Robby,
however, did see them, though he didn’t have time to wonder why as he
and Ethan suddenly found themselves collapsing onto the ground. Others
in the class either ran over them, (smashing their hands, arms, or
legs), or ran around them yelling insults and curses. It was not until
Sean was even with them that they were able to resume running, their
knees scraped and bloody.
Zhenya saw the whole thing as they neared the coach,
who was standing outside the locker room door and had observed the
entire episode, but had said nothing. Zhenya watched until Coach looked
away for a second and, then, reached out and, grabbing the back of
Biff’s t-shirt, yanked. The surprise combined with the force of the
yank, threw him off-balance and he tripped over his feet. Zhenya just
happened to be there to “accidentally” plant a foot directly over the
kid’s crotch as he ran on.
Biff was still yelling insults about “fucking Commie
faggots” and struggling to stand up as Ethan, Robby, and Sean, coming
up the rear, ran past.
“Quit whining, LaFrance,” Coach barked. “I’ve got
too many girls in this class as it is without having to listen to your
The class was standing around on the asphalt cooling
off and catching their breath after the run. Matt Hunter and Jack
Purvis were standing at the side of the collective. Ethan watched
suspiciously as Sean slowly staggered past them, panting and struggling
to regain his breath as he approached Ethan and Robby. Suddenly, Purvis
started toward Sean, but Matt Hunter did a strange thing. He grabbed
Purvis’ shoulder and restrained him. Purvis looked at him as if he were
insane. Ethan watched as they exchanged a few words and, then,
shockingly, Purvis simply shrugged and walked away. Sean was completely
unaware of the incident, but Ethan had seen it in its entirety. Matt’s
eyes were slowly roaming across the gathering until they met Ethan’s.
They looked at each other for a moment and, then, Matt looked quickly
“All right, ladies,” the coach bellowed, “you have
the rest of the period free. Form up a couple of teams for some
The coach disappeared around the corner as Jason and
another eighth grader, Daniel Gordon, took their customary leadership
positions and began calling off their teams. Robby wandered over to
Ethan’s side as Zhenya crossed his arms, knowing there would be wait
before any of them were chosen. As Ethan watched the gathering, he
smiled as he watched Matt Hunter slip through the door to the locker
room. He assumed Matt was skipping out of the game.
However, as the choosing inevitably came down to the
just the three of them, (even Tim Zitisky was chosen before one of them
was), Ethan was surprised that Sean was not among the remaining
unwanted. He looked around and as he and Robby found themselves on
Jason’s team with Zhenya walking over to Daniel’s, Ethan asked his
friend, “Hey, where’s Sean?”
Robby looked around and when he didn’t see him,
replied, “Maybe he went in to use the restroom.”
Ethan said nothing but followed Robby to the
scrimmage line. After several plays, he looked back toward the locker
room, but saw no Sean. Or Matt.
By the time Coach emerged from the door to the gym
and blew his whistle for the boys to head for the locker room, neither
Sean nor Matt had appeared. Robby and Zhenya were chatting about the
differences between the Youth Symphony and the school orchestra as they
strolled back to the locker room. Ethan was thinking and paying no
attention until they entered the door. Looking around, he saw Matt was
already dressed and heading out the door in his grungy jeans and
pullover. Sean was seated on his bench, with only his shoes and socks
remaining to be put on.
Ethan’s gym locker was near Sean’s and as he sat
down and began to remove his sneakers, he looked over and asked, “Hey,
what happened to you?”
He could not have missed Sean’s sudden look of
discomfort if he had been blind.
“Um, what do you mean?”
Ethan pulled his socks off.
“You weren’t outside during the game. Did you come
Sean stood in his socks and quickly slipped his feet
into his loafers.
“Um, yeah. I, uh, I wasn’t feeling too good after
all the running.”
Before, Ethan could say anything else, Sean quickly
walked away without another word and exited the door to the hallway.
Ethan raised an eyebrow and whipped off his sweaty t-shirt. As he
slipped his shorts off, Robby was walking by toward the shower.
“What’s the matter?” he asked as Ethan joined him,
narrowly avoiding Zac Melville and Superdick emerging from the showers.
Robby stepped under an empty showerhead.
“You look like something’s wrong. I can tell.”
Ethan took a deep breath and waited for an empty
Robby frowned, but accepted his friend’s answer.
However, Ethan remained uncharacteristically quiet
and moody during Seventh Period Orchestra. Even Zhenya noticed. While
Mr. Stern was discussing something with the woodwinds, Zhenya looked
down the row at Ethan, who was looking at the floor thoughtfully as he
tapped his bow on his shoulder. Zhena whispered to Robby, “Ethan is
thoughtful. Is he worried?”
“Something’s up. I don’t know what, but I’ll find
out after school.”
However, as the bell rang and everyone began putting
their instruments away, Ethan shook his head when Robby asked if he
wanted to talk. Sean was passing by and Robby saw him glance nervously
at Ethan. Ethan seemed deliberately to wait for Sean to leave before he
began to walk toward the door.
“Is there something wrong with Sean?” Robby asked.
“Why do you ask?”
“Well you’ve been acting weird ever since you asked
where he was when we were lining up for football. And, he sure looked
weird when he walked by just now.”
They were in the hallway now and Sean had just
started down the stairs to the first floor.
“Listen,” said Ethan, “I’ll talk with you later.
I’ve got something I need to do right now. OK?”
“Why all the mystery, all of a sudden? What’s going
They were on the stairs and Ethan watched Sean as he
turned toward the right and the side door, instead of the left and
toward their lockers. Robby didn’t notice; he was too busy trying to
figure out his friend.
“Trust me, OK?” said Ethan. “This is real important.
I’ll meet you at your place later. OK?”
Robby could tell by the insistent tone in his voice
that Ethan meant business.
“OK,” he said warily. He turned toward the locker,
but looked back in surprise when he saw Ethan turn to the right.
Ethan could see through the crowds ahead that Sean
was at the side door. Quickly, he hurried and emerged into the cool air
in the shadow of the east side of the building. Looking around, he
couldn’t, at first, see where Sean had gone. But, a movement to the
right caught his eye where he wasn’t expecting it. He turned and saw
Sean, with his flute case, walking toward the far end of the bleachers
flanking the playing field. Ethan stood behind an old maple near the
door, partially obscured from Sean’s view, hoping it was enough for the
boy not to notice him watching. He waited until Sean disappeared around
the corner of a concrete wall at the edge of the bleacher and hurried
across the grounds As Ethan climbed through the girders and
supports, he listened. There were definitely voices, hushed and
muffled, from behind the wall. He reached the edge and listened.
“Man, that scared the fuck outta me when Coach came
in. I thought you were gonna piss all over me. Man, that look on your
face was great.”
“I was so scared. I’ve never been that scared in my
Some of Ethan’s suspicions were confirmed. That was
Matt Hunter’s voice with Sean. Something was definitely going on. Ethan
felt guilty. This was a complete violation of his principles, but it
was for Sean’s protection, he told himself, though he only half
“Ah, man. That feels so good. Yeah. Jack me off,
Ethan’s eyes grew wide.
“Oh, yeah. Yeah.”
Ethan debated whether to intervene. Perhaps, this
was something Sean wanted to do. Did he have a right to embarrass the
kid? Sean was so easily upset and hurt. Yet, if this bully was forcing
Sean to have sex with him, Ethan had an obligation to come to his aide.
“You… you want me… you want me to suck you?” Sean
Suck? Ethan wasn’t expecting that question. He heard
“You like sucking my dick?”
There was a pause and, then, Ethan heard Sean
“You’re a good fag. Yeah. Suck me.”
Ethan’s mouth opened in shock.
“What are ya doin’ with that paper?” Matt asked.
“I don’t want to get my knees dirty. Granddad asked
me why my knees were dirty the other day and I don’t like to lie to
Ethan felt a sudden desire to hug the boy and rescue
him. Sean was too sweet to be in such a situation.
“Come on, man. I’m so fuckin’ horny. I been waitin’
all fuckin’ day.”
Ethan clenched his fists as he felt a surge of
guilt. He was getting hard listening to this.
“Oh, yeah. Lick it. Lick it all over. Yeah. You got
the best fuckin’ mouth. Yeah, lick my balls.”
Ethan put his hand to his face and clenched his
eyes, imagining the sweet, quiet boy on his knees licking Matt’s cock
and balls. He thought he was pretty knowledgeable about sex, but he had
never thought of sucking and licking down there. Joshua, his father’s
student, certainly hadn’t done that with him.
He could hear the sucking sounds and he saw in his
mind Matt’s cock fucking in and out of Sean’s mouth. He was so torn. He
had to stop this, yet he wanted to hear everything that happened.
Matt kept moaning and muttering nasty comments.
“Yeah, jack yourself off, fag. Yeah, get off on
suckin’ my dick.”
Ethan’s head fell back against the wall. Sean was
beating off! He had heard enough. He swallowed and stepped away from
the wall. Gingerly climbing through the girders and supports, he
crawled out of the bleachers and walked quickly back toward the east
door of the school.
His mind was reeling with images that just didn’t
make sense. A boy like Sean, sweet and innocent, sucking the dick of a
bully and thug like Matt. Ethan wasn’t judging the situation. He would
be the last person to say one could not do that or that one didn’t have
the right to be friends with someone from a different background. Heck,
that was more than all right. It was just, Sean and Matt! How in the
world would those two hook up?
He reached his locker and spun the dial. When the
door opened, he saw movement to his right. Sean was approaching down
the deserted hallway, slowly and unsurely. Ethan took his time pulling
out his backpack. Slowly he picked up his Social Studies, French, and
Math books for his weekend homework and put them in the bag. By the
time he was zipping it up, Sean was coming up to him.
“What are you doing here so late?” he asked softly
and uncertainly as he played with his lock.
“Um, nothing. Just had to check on something.”
Sean bit his lip and opened his locker.
“Um, I saw you walk in the door,” he said looking
down inside the locker, but not moving. “Did you follow me?”
Ethan felt his face flush with shame. He bit his
lip, as well, and slowly closed the door of his locker. He looked up
and saw the pain in Sean’s face.
“What are you boys still doing here?”
Ethan turned to find Mr. Huber approaching from
“We, um, forgot some books,” he said quickly.
Mr. Huber gave Ethan a suspicious look, obviously
remembering his last run-in with him.
“Come on,” said the principal gruffly. “Let’s go.”
Sean quickly gathered his books and closed his
locker. The principal followed them to the lobby and watched them until
they were descending the steps outside. The last of the school buses
was pulling away as they silently walked toward the street past the
concrete benches surround the flag pole. The head custodian was
lowering the flag and neither boy spoke until they had crossed the
“Sean, can I talk to you?”
“Look, Ethan, just leave me alone, OK? Just leave me
Sean sounded as if he were about to start crying.
“Sean, I’m your friend! I just want to know that
you’re OK. He’s not forcing you to do this, is he?”
Sean raised the arm that was carrying his flute and
covered his eyes. He let out an agonized moan. Ethan dropped his
backpack and violin and put his arm around the boy, ignoring they were
directly in front of the school and on a corner in full view of anyone
“Sean, I’m your friend. Please, please. Let’s talk,
Sean dropped his arms and stood in an attitude of
defeat, his shoulders slumped, his eyes downcast. Finally, he
whispered, “You want to come in?”
Ethan smiled and nodded. Slowly, Sean turned and
walked across the grass at the side of his house toward the privacy
fence. Ethan followed him around it to the back porch and into the mud
room. Immediately, he was greeted with the wonderful smell of some meat
dish baking in the oven.
“Well, Sean, sweetie, you brought a friend home!”
A elderly black woman hugged the boy and kissed his
“Marvela, this is Ethan. Ethan this is Marvela.”
Ethan wasn’t sure he approved of servants, but he
smiled warmly at Marvela and said hello. The housekeeper led them into
the living room, where Ethan saw an elderly man seated on the edge of a
couch reading an old book. He heard Nat King Cole singing “Ramblin’
Rose” from the hi-fi in the corner.
“Mr. Lindquist. Look here. Sean brought a friend
Ethan immediately liked Sean’s grandfather.
Standing, the gentleman’s face broke into a joyful, warm smile. He
brushed his fingers through his thinning blond hair and said, “How
wonderful! I’m Anders Lindquist, Sean’s grandfather. And, you are?”
“Ethan Spencer. I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Lindquist.”
“Ah, yes. The violinist we met at the audition. I’m
sorry we didn’t get a chance to chat that day. Sean’s told me about
you. I’ve read your father’s poetry. It’s quite good. Very original.”
“Yeah, it is original.”
“Put your things down and have a seat, please!”
Ethan could sense the unease in Sean, but his
grandfather seemed so eager to entertain, that he nodded and set his
backpack and violin on the floor behind one of the overstuffed chairs.
He sat down by the fireplace as Sean took the other chair.
The three chatted for a quarter of an hour as
Marvela brought hot cocoa. Ethan described life in The Village and the
various characters he had met there as Mr. Lindquist listened with rapt
attention. Sean soon felt more relaxed and calm.
At a lull in the conversation, Mr. Lindquist looked
down at his lap and said, “Well, I’ve been guilty of monopolizing your
friend, Sean. I’m sure you young men have better things to do than chat
with an old man!”
“Nah, this is pretty cool!” said Ethan honestly, to
Mr. Lindquist’s delight. Sean grinned.
“Um, would you like to see my room?”
“Sure,” Ethan replied, knowing that Sean needed to
talk. He stood and followed the boy through the foyer and down the
hallway. They entered a room at the back that did not look like a boy’s
bedroom. There was an ancient wooden bed with an old-fashioned spread
of brown designs against one wall, an antique dresser against another
wall, and a small desk with a classical looking lamp. On the wall were
several framed prints of landscapes and on top of the dresser was a
framed photograph of a young couple and a little blond boy.
“This is a nice room,” Ethan said as Sean moved
behind him to close the door. “Your grand-dad is pretty cool. I really
Sean nodded as he moved to the desk and pulled the
chair out, gesturing for Ethan to sit down. Sean sat on the edge of the
bed and nervously clutched his hands.
“Look, it’s not what you think.”
“Sean, I don’t care if you’re fooling around with
Matt. That’s cool. Robby and I are boyfriends.”
“You know?” Ethan was surprised.
“Sure. I overheard you one day. It wasn’t like I was
eavesdropping or anything. You were just talking in the hall…”
“Well, it doesn’t matter. So, are… you and… Matt…”
Sean took a deep breath and bit his lip again.
“Sean, I am the coolest person in the world about
stuff. You don’t need to be embarrassed about anything with me.”
Sean saw the earnest look in Ethan’s eyes. He nodded.
“I know. It’s just… well, one day Matt caught me
like… doing it in the bathroom, you know…” Sean simulated masturbating
and Ethan grinned.
“and he wanted me to do it to him.”
“So, Matt’s into guys, too. Wow. I’d have never
“Well, I don’t know if he is, but he said that if
I’d take care of him, he’d take care of me. He said he’d make sure no
one messed with me anymore. So, he sort of watches out for me now and
I… well, I… you know.”
“Oh, Sean… man, you don’t need to do that. You got
Robby and me and Zhenya as friends. We can help you out. You can rely
on us. You don’t need to make some deal like that with Matt.”
Sean looked at the oval shaped rug on the floor.
“You don’t understand. Matt’s like super tough and
nobody gives him grief and since we made our deal, nobody’s messed with
me and… you don’t know what it’s like to get beat-up all the time and
laughed at all the time and… well…”
“Sean, I heard the way he was talking to you. He was
calling you ‘fag’ and names and talking to you like you were his
servant. You’re not his slave, are you?”
“He’s not really mean to me. That’s just the way he
is. Actually, I think he likes me. Maybe he’s just afraid to act like
it. But, he’s really not mean to me.”
Ethan looked at Sean with such compassion that the
boy blushed. He stood and sat beside Sean, wrapping an arm around him.
Sean stiffened at first and, then, relaxed, leaning against Ethan and
closing his eyes.
“I know I’m never going to have a boyfriend like you
and Robby are.”
“That’s not true,” said Ethan. “You could get a
“No way. I’m getting too fat and…”
“You’re not fat. You’re not even chubby. Sure,
you’re putting on a little weight, but you’re not too much more than
average. And, you’re cute. You really are.”
Sean blushed and shook his head.
“No, I’m not. My face is too round and my hair is
dorky and I dress like a goofus and I’m boring…”
“Oh, man, Sean, stop. You can’t think about yourself
like that. You are really cute! Really. If Robby wasn’t already my
“You’re just saying that…”
But, before Sean could finish, Ethan had taken his
face in his hand and turned it toward him. Just inches from his face,
Ethan grinned, closed his eyes, and brought his lips to Sean’s. At
first, Sean stiffened in surprise, but then relaxed as Ethan’s lips
pressed against his. After a moment, Ethan pulled away and took Sean’s
hand in his.
“Sean, Robby and I are your friends. I want you to
know that you can rely on us for anything, anytime. All you have to do
is ask. You don’t need to suck Matt’s dick for protection.”
Sean smiled sheepishly.
“Well, actually, I… um, I kind of like it, in a way.”
“Well, you horny devil.”
“Don’t you suck Robby’s dick?”
“Well, not yet. But, I’m going to tonight!”
“Thanks, Ethan. Thanks for being my friend.”
“Hey, anytime. And, remember, if he ever does
anything mean to you, if he ever hurts you, you let me know. OK?”
Sean swallowed, bit his lip again, and nodded. Ethan
leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
October in Sheffield was definitely not like October
in Moscow, Zhenya mused as he walked home. For one thing, it was cool,
but not cold. For another, there was the strange American custom of
carving faces in pumpkins and putting them on display outside homes.
And, he couldn’t understand why kids would expend so much energy raking
up the leaves in their yards only to jump into the piles and spread
them around again! Americans were strange.
He crossed his front yard, which was covered with
leaves he had not raked, and sat down on the step. For the first time
in several weeks, Zhenya had an afternoon free from responsibilities.
The Youth Symphony did not have a practice that day. Ian was not
scheduled to practice with him or work on his English with him. His
father had no social functions at the college to which he would be
dragged. He had two hours to himself, totally to himself. Freedom.
Several younger boys rode past on their bikes,
chattering and throwing good natured insults at each other. A
helicopter flew overhead as the sounds of traffic on Providence fought
with the squawks of the starlings in the orange and green maples lining
18th St. Zhenya frowned.
He felt lonely. There was something missing in his
life and he wasn’t sure what it could be. He had freedom now. He didn’t
have to worry about expressing the wrong opinion or voicing a dangerous
thought. Emerson Middle School was mercifully free of the strict,
almost militaristic discipline of his schools back in Moscow and
Prague. He wasn’t forced to join the Young Pioneers. He had friends.
Well, he had three friends.
Perhaps, that is what was missing in his life. A
sense of belonging. He was different from the other boys in Sheffield.
He spoke a different language and his English, though improving
rapidly, was still inflected and accented differently. His was the
round face and narrow eyes of the Slav. Yes, he was different, and the
others at Emerson treated him as different. Oh, Robby and Ethan had
done everything they could to be his friends and he was grateful. They
had gotten over their excitement at meeting a real Russian and a
descendent of Dmitri and Alexander Koronov; now, they treated him just
as they would any other friend. Even Sean was warming to him. But, the
others. There were still the comments behind his back, the insults to
his face, the tripping in the hallway, stealing food off his tray in
the cafeteria, all the myriad things that added up to the message that
he wasn’t one of them. He was an outsider. He was different.
Even in the Youth Orchestra, he was treated
differently. They acted as if he were a star, a Koronov, a prodigy.
Didn’t they understand that in the vigorous competition of music and
school in the Soviet Union, he was just slightly above average?
Couldn’t they understand that he just wanted to be “one of the guys?”
Couldn’t they treat him as just another member of the orchestra?
No. He was different. And, he always would be.
Especially in one particular way that they would not know and could not
understand. If these Americans, so wonderfully free and diverse in some
ways, yet so strangely conformist and suspicious in others, only knew
how truly different he really was, he would never be accepted. He’d
probably even lose Robby and Ethan as friends.
Which led his thoughts to… The Book.
He wanted to read The Book again, that special
passage. It had been so long since he had read it. Not since Prague.
Not since he had read it to Stefan. His heart ached at the thought of
Stefan, wonderful, noble, beautiful Stefan. How he missed his wisdom,
he kindness, those beautiful afternoons playing the violin together,
his hugs of friendship and encouragement. That’s what he missed.
Ian was nice. He was not as old as Stefan, or as
wise, or as kind. But, he was nice and he made Zhenya laugh and he gave
him good advice on how to speak and act more American. But, he wasn’t
Zhenya stood and carried his book bag and his violin
inside the house. He carried his things upstairs to his room and then
returned downstairs. He went to the kitchen and prepared a glass of
Nestles’ Quik and took it to the “parlor,” setting it on a coaster on a
table by the front window. He turned on a lamp and walked to the
bookshelf on which The Book rested. Carefully, he pulled it out and
held it, running his fingers over the old red leather of the spine, and
gazed reverently as if at a sacred relic. This book that had survived
The Revolution, the Terror of Stalin, the Great Patriotic War, the
disappearance of his beloved Uncle Misha, and, finally, the escape from
Prague to the West, was almost a sacred relic for it held secrets,
beautiful and terrible, his family had protected for decades.
He moved to one of the chairs flanking the front
window and sat down. He took a gulp of chocolate milk and then opened
the book to a familiar page, the one he had read to Stefan. He
marveled, as he always did, at the beautiful calligraphy, the almost
perfect penmanship of the carefully written words, whose writer had
known that this was as artistic a creation as the music he created.
“Never in my eleven years had I known the
joy, the love, and the peace of that moment, sitting in the
snow-blanketed garden, held in the arms of my beloved Tolyenka, as he
read the words of Pushkin to me, watching the sun set across the
ice-covered pond, the frozen braches above sparkling like the Tsarina’s
Zhenya tried to picture in his mind the boy Dmitri
in the arms of the handsome, gallant Anatoly, son of his father’s
patron. He tried to place himself in the Russia of 1872, to imagine the
glittering balls and the sparkling palaces of St. Petersburg, the
dazzling yet dangerous world in which Dmitri Koronov found himself.
Did Zhenya really want to be just like everyone
else? Did he really want to be just another typical American boy? Or
did he really dream of a world of beauty and romance and stunning
emotion, when giants wrote and composed and painted, of the world in
which the dashing Anatoly would pledge his undying love before leaving
for the Tzar’s Military Academy.
Zhenya leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
In his mind, he saw a drawing room in a grand palace, lit only by a
roaring fire, music in the background and the vacuous chatter and
laughter of adults. On a couch, the dashing young prince in his
glittering uniform held the hand of the worshipful boy, his blond curls
glowing golden in the firelight.
He was startled from his dream by a knock at the
front door. With a sigh, he placed the book on the table beside his
milk and stood. As he entered the foyer, he could see through the thin
curtain over the long window in the door the figure of Ian peering into
the dark of the house.
Zhenya grinned and blushed as he looked downward.
Only two other people in recent years had called him by the diminutive,
his papa and his Stefan.
“Come in, Ian.”
“So, what’s happening?” Ian asked as he unzipped his
windbreaker. Zhenya walked into the parlor and Ian followed.
“I read old book.”
“Ah, ah. Remember your articles. And, your
Zhenya blushed as he sat down.
“I’m reading an old book.”
“Cool,” said Ian as he sat in the chair opposite.
“How was school today? Did you have a good day?”
“I had a groovy day,” Zhenya replied with a grin.
“Yeah, right. Well, I figured since we didn’t have
practice today that maybe you might want to go out for a shake or
“What will we shake?”
Ian giggled and Zhenya smiled, knowing he had just
misunderstood another English idiom and wondering just how funny it
sounded. He liked the way Ian’s black hair fell across his forehead and
the way his ivory white teeth flashed as he grinned. He looked so
handsome with his pale skin, his raven hair, and his blue eyes. The red
sweater and gray slacks looked so perfect. Ian was different from
Stefan, who seemed to revel in his rebellious jeans and t-shirts. Ian,
on the other hand, seemed so proud of his fashionable perfection.
“A milk shake. I thought we might go over to Dairy
Queen and get a milk shake. So what are you reading?”
Zhenya bit his lip. His family never discussed The
Book. For so many years, it had been a matter of life and death, that
even now, in the freedom of America, he felt fearful of mentioning it.
He paused and Ian looked carefully at it.
“It looks beautiful. How old is it?”
“The book is almost a hundred years, but the writing
is fifty years.”
“What do you mean?”
Zhenya paused. He remembered the moment that he had
revealed the secret of The Book to Stefan, the near reverence he had
shown. Would Ian understand?
“It was empty book… it was an empty book with no
writing. My grandfather’s uncle wrote in it the story of his life
before he died.”
Ian’s eyes grew wide.
“His memoirs? This is Dmitri Koronov’s memoirs? His
Ian’s eyes were wide with shock.
“Do you know what you have here?”
“I mean,” Ian continued in amazement, “there are
scholars, and universities, and publishers that would kill for this!”
Zhenya looked down at his lap.
“The police did kill my Uncle Misha for it. They
sent him to gulag because he would not give it to them and then said he
Ian looked at the book on the table as if he had
found a stack of gold bars. Zhenya was not entirely comfortable with
the look; he could not discern if it was one of greed or reverence.
“May I?” Ian said, holding out his hands. Zhenya
nodded. Ian gingerly lifted the book from the table and held it
respectfully in his hands. He carefully opened the cover. On the first
thick and yellowed page, he saw the careful and neat handwriting, the
formal Cyrillic letters which he knew spelled, “Dmitri Petrovich
Koronov,” and the date underneath, 1920.
“He finished this the year he died,” said Ian softly.
“He killed himself the night he finished it.”
Ian looked up in surprise.
“I thought Dmitri Koronov died of food poisoning.”
Zhenya shook his head.
“No. He took arsenic. It is on the last page. His
Ian turned to the last page. The writing was not as
neat and clear.
“I don’t know enough Russian to read this and I
can’t make out the old-fashioned handwriting. Can you read this to me?”
Zhenya took a breath and replied, “No. But, I will
read you something else.”
He held his hands out and Ian handed him the book.
Zhenya stood and walked over to the couch in the center of the room. He
sat down in the center and patted the spot beside him and smiled shyly.
Ian sat beside him and, his hands folded politely in
his lap, looked over at the open book.
Zhenya looked nervously at the teenager and then
down at the page. He read the section to Ian that he had just read to
himself, slowly and carefully translating the passage into English.
When he was finished, Ian leaned back and smiled.
“That’s beautiful. He was only eleven?”
“Who was Tolyenka? Was old was she?”
Zhenya looked evenly at Ian and slowly replied,
carefully watching his reaction, “Prince Anatoly. He was eighteen. He
was about to enter the Military Academy in St. Petersburg.”
Ian’s eyes grew slightly wider as he looked
carefully at Zhenya.
“He was in love with… the Prince?”
Zhenya took another breath, not certain whether Ian
was surprised more by the title “Prince” or that Tolyenka was a young
“There were many with the title ‘Prince,’ but there
was only one Tsarivich. He wasn’t the Tsarivich.”
Ian nodded and Zhenya could see he had other
questions but was hesitant to ask.
“He was Prince Anatoly Milakhov. His father was the
patron of Dmitri’s father, my, um, my grandfather’s grandfather.”
“So, your great-great-grandfather was a composer,
“And, Dmitri and Anatoly… loved each other?”
Again, Zhenya nodded.
“They were… gay?”
“I think they were very happy.”
“No, I mean… they were… homosexuals?”
Zhenya looked confused.
It was Ian’s turn to swallow uncertainly.
“Um… they, they loved each other the way a man and a
woman love each other?”
Zhenya was suddenly nervous. He clutched The Book
tightly and nodded once. Ian said nothing, but watched the boy. Zhenya
looked so sweet, so nervous. Ian fought the urge to reach across and
wrap his arm around the boy’s shoulder.
“I think that’s beautiful.”
Zhenya slowly looked up and saw the smile on Ian’s
face. He sighed with relief and turned back to The Book.
“This is the poem Prince Anatoly was reading to him.
It’s by Alexander Pushkin.”
Ian smiled encouragingly.
pomnyu chudnoye mnovyenye:
Pyeryednuh mnoy yavilac tuii,
Kak mimolyetnoye vidyenye,
Kak genii chistoi kracotuii.”
Ian touched Zhenya’s shoulder.
“Could you translate? You speak English better than
I speak Russian.”
“I remember… wonderful moment, you have appeared… in
my sight, like short and… um… short prediction? Um… omen. Pure ghost in
amazing light. Um, something about jail and sadness, in hurry of loud
parade, I heard your voice soft and pretty voice, and dreamed of your…
um… expressions I love.”
“It sounds beautiful. I wish I understood Russian
well enough to enjoy it in Russian.”
“I wish I could speak English good enough to make it
as pretty in English as it is in Russian.”
“I think you did a wonderful job of translating.”
Ian gave the boy a sweet smile and placed his left
hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“I think it’s a beautiful story about Dmitri and
“You do?” Zhenya asked softly.
“Yes. I think they were very lucky to find love that
“Dmitri wrote The Winter Garden Suite as a praise to
Prince Anatoly. He never told anyone, though. He only wrote about it in
The two boys smiled at each other and Ian ran his
fingers through the front of Zhenya’s soft hair.
“Zhenyechka, why did you want to read this
particular passage to me?”
Zhenya hesitated. Suddenly, his hands were
trembling. He bit his lip and looked at The Book. The touch of Ian’s
hand in his hair and across his forehead sent a chill through him, a
chill he had not known for over a year, not since Prague, not since
Suddenly Ian jerked his hand back as the sound of
footsteps crossing the wooden front porch echoed across the living
room. Zhenya’s flushed face looked toward the foyer. He quickly closed
The Book and stood, hurrying toward the shelf. However, he was not able
to put it in its place before his father had opened the front door and
was peaking into the living room.
“Zhenyechka! Ah, there is my boy! And, Ian. What a
Dr. Koronov entered the room and then looked with
suspicion at his son.
“Zhenya, you are holding Dmitri’s Book,” he said in
Russian. “Why is that?”
“I was showing it to Ian, Papa.”
“You know I do not want you to read the book. It is
not for boys to read. And, it is dangerous to tell others of the book.”
Ian was able to understand only parts of the
conversation as the father and son spoke in their mother tongue; but,
he knew enough to understand that Dr. Koronov was not pleased.
“It’s not Zhenya’s fault, sir,” he interceded. “I
asked Zhenya about it and, sort of insisted he show it to me. I’m
Dr. Koronov looked at Ian and smiled, though he knew
that the teenager was covering for the boy.
“Very well. But, I ask you, Ian, to tell no one
about this book. Please. You do not know the history of this book and
the danger that surrounds it.”
Ian could imagine, if the KGB sent Zhenya’s uncle to
the concentration camp over it.
“You don’t need
to worry, Dr. Koronov. You can trust me.”
But, Ian carefully watched Zhenya replace the
book on the shelf.
Robby stood at the top of the stairs and listened.
He could hear his mother in the living room introducing the babysitter
and his brother and sister. He could hear a man’s voice, though he
couldn’t distinguish the words. He was not ready for this. He had known
that, eventually, the time would come when he would have to meet one of
the men his mother saw, but he just hadn’t expected it this evening.
Nervously he adjusted the backpack over his shoulders and zipped up his
“Robby!” his mother called sweetly from the living
room. “Why don’t you come downstairs and meet a friend!”
He rolled his eyes. She wasn’t going to let her date
see the real Caroline McDonnell, at least, not yet.
“Coming,” he replied as he slowly stepped down. Step
by step, as if he were descending to a punishment, he moved down the
stairs. He looked to the left as he descended and saw him standing in
the doorway to the living room. Brown slacks, brown plaid sport coat,
white shirt, no tie, hands in his pockets.
“Mom says you played baseball!” Brian was asking
“Yeah, I played a little ball in the army. You a
“I’m signing up in the spring!”
“All right! We’ll get along just fine!”
Deep, masculine voice. Robby already hated him.
He reached the foyer and his mother turned, giving
him a warning look. He took a breath and smiled politely as the man
Short, dark hair, shiny, combed back. Dark eyes.
“Well, hey. You’re Robert?”
“Robin? I think I like Robby, better.”
The man took Robby’s hand and shook it hard. Robby
tried to give him a good, firm handshake; he felt as if the man were
“Robby, this is Frank,” said his mother.
“Pleased to meet you.”
The man watched Robby with amusement and then said
jovially, “Well, aren’t you formal?”
“Robby!” his brother shouted. “Frank played baseball
in the army!”
“That’s cool,” said Robby politely.
“So, you play?” Frank asked.
Before Robby could reply, though, his mother said,
“Robby’s more a brain than an athlete.”
“Well, we’ll take care of that, won’t we? Every boy
needs to play something.”
Robby forced a smile and looked at his mother.
“Mom, I ‘m late. I gotta go. Ethan’s mom said
dinner’s at six-thirty.”
“Hey, what’s the hurry?” said Frank with mock hurt
in his voice. Robby could hear the mocking in his voice.
“He lives over at his friend’s,” said his mother
Robby waved as he moved toward the front door.
“It was nice to meet you,” he said to Frank. “I’ll
see ya around.”
“Yep,” the man said in an even voice. “You sure
Robby noted the hint of a warning and their eyes
met. Frank held his eyes a moment more than necessary and then smiled
as he turned back to Brian and Megan. Robby opened the door and stepped
outside. As he was closing it, he heard Frank say to Brian, “Buddy, you
and I are gonna be great friends!”
Robby trudged across the front yard toward the
sidewalk, kicking the orange and red leaves in the grass viciously
aside, his fists jammed angrily in the pockets of his windbreaker. A
chilly wind tossed his hair across his forehead and over his ears. He
looked up at the gathering clouds and the dimming light and felt a dark
rage and foreboding.
Sean and his grandfather were pulling out of their
driveway onto 18th St. in front of the school as Robby approached the
corner. He forced a smile as the pale green and cream Studebaker slowly
turned the corner onto Sycamore. The elderly man gave a warm smile to
Robby and he saw Sean climb up on the passenger side and wave
cheerfully. Apparently, Robby thought as he waved back, Ethan must have
made Sean feel better.
Ethan. He was good at making people feel better.
Robby needed to talk to Ethan about this, but he felt guilty constantly
dumping his troubles on his friend. Ethan was so patient and
understanding; yet, Robby knew he had to get tired of his constant
whining. Robby tried to meditate the way Ethan had taught him, to let
go of the anger and pain he so often felt; but, too often when he tried
to clear his mind, he focused on the issue that was bothering him and
his efforts had the opposite effect of what he was trying to achieve.
It was like trying NOT to think about an elephant. You had to think of
the elephant to try NOT to think of the elephant.
The sky was completely overcast as he walked past
Zhenya’s house, where Robby saw no lights on inside. There was
something about Zhenya’s innocence and naiveté, his gentle
demeanor, that always seemed to soften the edge of Robby’s mood. Robby
wondered why Zhenya seemed so peaceful, considering the dangers he had
faced and the fears he had known, when Robby was so full of constant
anger and irritation.
It seemed to have gotten quite a bit cooler by the
time he reached Providence. There was a dampness in the air that seemed
to make the chill particularly biting. He wished he had worn a more
substantial jacket as he darted across the busy thoroughfare during a
break in the traffic.
A tall, lanky teenager with blond hair rode past him
on a Schwinn ten-speed as he ran his fingers through the chain-link
fence around Lake Windermere. The guy turned and waved, leaning
downward on his ram’s-horn handlebars. He looked familiar. Robby felt
distinctly funny as he uncertainly waived back. The goofy grin,
however, reminded him that this was the teenager who had laughed
good-naturedly at him when he tripped on the sidewalk on Labor Day. It
was a moment before Robby realized that the feeling was arousal and
that he was getting hard. The guy was hot and as he rode on, Robby
watched his butt flow back and forth in the air as the guy pumped the
pedals on his bike. It was seldom that Robby felt that way looking at
older guys, the way he did when he thought of Ethan, (or, guiltily, of
some of the boys in gym class), and it lent an urgency to his walking
as he approached Ethan’s house and, later, as Ethan and he were eating
the carry-out pizza Mrs. Spencer had brought home before leaving for
her evening out.
“I don’t really feel like backgammon tonight,” Robby
said as they entered Ethan’s room after dinner. Allison had left on her
date with Chad and Ethan’s mother was gone, leaving the house to the
“You look like a lot is bothering you,” said Ethan.
“You want to talk?”
“Yeah, but later,” Robby replied. “I’m horny. Let’s
do it,” he said with a nasty grin.
“Good idea,” said Ethan. “I have something I want to
talk about and something I want to show you. This way, we can get past
the crazy horny and then really take our time.”
Quickly, the boys stripped off their clothes,
dropping them on the floor where they stood, and jumped on the bed,
their rigid erections waving stiffly in the air as they sat down in the
center facing each other. They wrapped their legs around each other’s
hips and leaned forward, kissing deeply and thrusting their tongues
into each other’s mouth as their hands eagerly grasped the other and
wildly stroked. They sighed and groaned into each other’s mouth,
squirming and working their hips around as the feelings of lust grew.
Robby could tell Ethan was getting close as his moaning became higher
“You wanna stop?” he asked.
“No,” Ethan gasped. “Do it!”
“Oh, yeah.” Robby breathed. “Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah! Oh,
Ethan’s body suddenly stiffened and his grip
tightened on Robby’s boner, sending his friend into a frenzy. Ethan
cried out and began to squirt all over Robby’s and his tummies, some
even landing on Robby’s dick. That seemed to be enough to thrust Robby
over the edge and he came, as well, his thinner, clearer ejaculate
oozing out over Ethan’s tightly gripping hand. Ethan’s pumping had
become erratic during his orgasm and Robby cried, “Don’t stop!”
Quickly, Ethan pumped until both boys sighed and their heads fell
It was several minutes, as the boys panted and
heartbeats slowed, before Ethan whispered, “God, Robby, you are so hot.”
“Oh, that feels so good,” Robby breathed. “God, I
love doing this with you.”
The two smiled at each other and Ethan leaned
forward, giving his friend a peck on the lips.
“So, what’s got you upset tonight?”
Robby looked down at the still hard boners between
“Mom introduced us to this guy she’s dating. I think
they’re serious. He’s a jerk. I can already tell and I can already tell
that he doesn’t like me.”
“Aw, come on. You just met him.”
“No, I can tell. He played baseball in the army and
when Mom said I was a ‘brain’ and didn’t play baseball, he said he’d
take care of that.”
“He could have just been being friendly. Most boys
“You didn’t see the look in his face. Our eyes met
and I could see what he was thinking.”
Ethan shook his head.
“Don’t predict the future. He probably is a jerk,
but you don’t know for sure. Besides, maybe your mom will dump him.”
“It’s not just that he’s a jerk. It’s that I don’t
want another Dad. If I can’t have my real Dad, I don’t want anyone.”
Ethan sighed and raised his right hand to hold
“I know it’s not the same when your parents get a
divorce, ‘cause your dad’s still alive and you get to see him on
holidays. But, I know I’d feel pretty weird if Mom got married again
and I had to get used to a step-father. I know you loved your dad, but
you got to know that your mom’s probably going to get married again.”
“I know,” Robby muttered. “I just don’t want her to
yet. I just wish she’d wait a little longer.”
Ethan wrapped his arms around Robby and the two held
each other, Ethan sending his love to his friend through his hug. After
a long moment, Robby sighed and leaned back.
“So, what’s your deal? Why were you so weird this
Ethan took a deep breath.
“Sean has made a deal with Matt Hunter.”
Immediately, Robby looked with suspicion.
“What kind of deal?”
Ethan licked his lips and took another breath.
“Matt offered to protect Sean from any bullying if
Sean… would… well, help him out with… well, you know…”
Robby had never seen Ethan at a loss for words. He
looked at him curiously and then saw Ethan’s had gesture.
“Beating off?” he said with shock.
Ethan nodded. Robby’s eyes grew wide and Ethan could
see the first hints of anger in them.
“Matt is promising not to bully Sean if Sean beats
“Kind of. If Sean helps him get off, he keeps the
bullies off him.”
“That’s disgusting! Where does Matt live? I’m gonna
go over there in the morning and beat the snot out of him!”
“Calm down. It’s not as bad as it seems!”
“Calm down? He’s blackmailing Sean for sex! I didn’t
even know Matt was like that. I mean, the sex thing with, you know, a
guy. I mean I knew he was kind of tough and everything and I figured he
could be a bully if he really tried. But, man, this is disgusting! Sean
is like the sweetest guy in the world! We can’t let him do this! We
have to do something!”
Robby was red in the face and his fists were tightly
clenched. Ethan grinned.
“Man, when you get worked up…”
“Well, of course I’m worked up! Why aren’t you? This
is outrageous. And, if you tell me that we have to just meditate, I’m
“Calm down. It’s not what you think.”
Robby was breathing hard and clenching his teeth.
Ethan smiled and kissed his cheek.
“I think that in Matt’s weird, tough guy kind of
way, that he might really be trying to be Sean’s friend. I think he
likes Sean and he doesn’t know how else to do it without feeling like a
fag. He’s not forcing Sean to do it. Sean told me. He said that, in a
way, he kind of likes it.”
Robby looked frustrated.
“This is just not right. Sean’s a good guy. He
shouldn’t have to beat off a bully to be safe.”
“Well, I agree, but I talked with him and I made him
promise me that if he had any problems, he would tell us. And, I think
he will. And, I think Matt will basically take care of him.”
“How do you know?”
“Well, after school, I watched Sean sneak out the
side door and head over to the bleachers. So I followed and I heard
Matt and him doing it.”
Despite his anger, Robby’s dick twitched and rose
back up to a full boner.
“What were they doing?” he asked softly.
Ethan was hard again, too, and his hands were
trembling. Ethan often became intensely aroused with Robby, but there
was something about the anticipation of what he was about to do that
seemed to really affect him.
“I’ll show you. Actually, it was Sean doing it to
Matt. Matt doesn’t do anything to Sean, but he let’s Sean beat off
while he’s doing it.”
Robby was breathing hard and he felt that something
new and exciting was about to happen.
“Lay down,” said Ethan softly. He crawled back and
stood up on his knees to the side. Robby lay back, stretching in his
legs out before Ethan, his three inch boner bobbing stiffly above his
tummy, his arms laying stiffly at his side, fists clenched with
Ethan crawled back toward his pillows and then faced
Robby. He reached down to Robby’s feet and spread his legs wide before
crawling forward. Robby felt a surge as he saw Ethan looking down at
his pulsing dick.
“What are you going to do?” he breathed.
Ethan smiled nervously and leaned over, placing his
left elbow on the bed beside Robby’s hip for support. Ethan’s face was
just inches above Robby’s boner. Robby’s eyes grew wide as he watched
Ethan’s face hovering. He felt Ethan’s warm breath on his dick and he
gasped. He had never felt such a sense of anticipation.
Slowly, Ethan’s lips came down to just an inch above
Robby’s dick. He paused, admiring close up the penis that he had loved
fondling for more than a month. Suddenly, there was no doubt in his
mind about what he wanted.
He leaned down and kissed the sensitive area on
Robby’s dick underneath the head.
Robby moaned. Ethan left his lips unmoving for a
long moment and then kissed again and again, his own dick pulsing
between his legs as Robby’s seemed to jump with each kiss.
“You’re kissing my dick!”
Robby was stunned. It felt so good, so much better
than Ethan’s jacking. He was amazed.
Ethan tongue emerged from between his lips and he
let it press against the same spot. The wet, hot, living, moving tongue
on his dick sent a cry from Robby’s throat as he watched in stunned
Ethan moved down to the base of Robby’s dick and
slowly licked up the solid shaft to the head. Robby’s hips thrust
upward, forcing the dick hard against Ethan’s tongue.
“Oh, my God. You’re licking my dick. Oh, you’re
licking my dick! Oh, my God, it feels so good!”
Robby could feels Ethan’s hot, jagged breath on his
dick, his balls, and his tummy as his friend continued to loving lick
the throbbing boner in his face. He could hear soft, high-pitched
whimpering as he started licking faster and harder, treating his dick
like a popsicle. Ethan was licking the sides now and running his dick
around and over the head, making Robby squirm and cry.
Just when Robby thought he could feel nothing
better, Ethan scooted back and breathed on his balls.
“Gyaaaaa”, Robby moaned, before gasping. Ethan
watched Robby’s oval balls. One seemed bigger and lower than the other
and they were churning in their pink sack.
“God, your balls are so beautiful,” he whispered.
Slowly, he lowered his face and stuck out his tongue. It touched the
bigger, lower ball and Robby cried out again. Ethan licked it all over,
running his tongue completely around the ball and watching as it seemed
to tighten up. He then licked the other and it pulled up as well.
Robby was writhing like a mad boy beneath Ethan’s
frantic licking, muttering nonsensical sounds as his head rolled and
his hands desperately clutched at the bedspread beneath them. Ethan’s
tongue licked inside the area between Robby’s balls and his thighs,
causing even more ecstatic writhing and twisting. His tongue went below
Robby’s balls and licked the little ridge that ran from his balls back.
Robby almost screamed.
“Oh, Ethan! Oh, my God! Sean does this to Matt? Oh,
my God, I can’t believe it. Oh, I can’t believe how good this feels!
Lick my dick again! Please, lick my dick!”
Ethan smiled and reached up with his right hand. He
took Robby’s dick in his fingers and pulled it back until it was
standing up perpendicular to his body. He leaned down and saw a clear
drop of Robby juice in the slit. His hand trembling, and Robby watching
with eyes wide, his tongue licked the drop and Robby cried out. Ethan
licked the head all over and then, to Robby’s shock, he opened his
mouth and took the head in.
Robby couldn’t believe what he was seeing or
feeling. He looked in open-mouthed, wide-eyed wonder. He was unable to
utter a sound, unable to breathe as Ethan slowly moved his lips
downward, enveloping Robby’s rigid dick in his hot, wet mouth, his
writhing tongue sliding down the sensitive underside until the head was
pushing against the back of his throat.
Robby took Ethan’s face in his hands and held it,
caressing the smooth skin of his cheeks, running his fingers over the
tightly pulled-back hair. Ethan groaned as he held Robby’s dick in deep
in his mouth. He released his hand on Robby’s dick and reached back
between his legs to grasp his own boner. He felt the thick coating of
ooze on the head and he began desperately to stroke and pump his boner.
He pulled up on Robby’s dick until just the head was
in his mouth and then plunged down again. This time, it was too much
for Robby. He did scream. The feeling was too much. His entire body was
stiff. He inhaled as Ethan pulled back again and, as Ethan plunged down
a third time, it happened. He screamed again and thrust his hips
upward, grabbing Ethan’s head and forcing his dick into Ethan’s throat.
Ethan started to gag as he felt the taste of Robby’s cum in his throat
and on his tongue. Robby was fucking his mouth and then, after three or
four thrusts relaxed as his climax wound down.
Robby’s cum in his mouth was almost all Ethan needed
to go over the edge himself. As soon as Robby’s spasms died, he
released his friend’s dick and sat up on his calves, releasing his dick
just a second before the first throbbing spurt would have shot out. He
held his hands out and gazed down, gasping, his mouth and eyes both
open wide as his rigid, throbbing boner pulsed between his legs.
“Suck me!” he cried. “Please!”
Robby was still recovering from the most
mind-blowing orgasm he had ever experienced. He lay beneath Ethan,
gasping, his eyes glazed over as he relaxed.
“Suck me!” Ethan begged.
He sat back on his pillows, resting his back against
the headboard and spreading his legs wide.
“Please Robby! Please! Suck my dick!”
Robby grinned between breaths and struggled to sit
up. Resting a hand on one of Ethan’s feet, he crawled up between
Ethan’s legs and brought his face to Ethan’s dick. Ethan groaned as he
felt Robby’s warm and moist breath on his balls. Robby gazed in loving
wonder at the balls tightly snug beneath Ethan’s dick, at the small
tuft of silky dark blond hair at the very base of his dick. He reached
forward and ran a finger through it.
“Oh, God, please! Suck me!”
Robby stuck out his tongue and did as Ethan had done
to him, bathing Ethan’s balls in his saliva, lovingly licking all
around the balls and along the ridge of skin leading back from his
balls. Ethan clutched the pillows beneath his naked butt, desperate not
to grab his boner and beat himself over the edge. He was crying and
groaning with each swipe of Robby’s tongue.
For his own part, Robby was becoming wild again. His
boner was still as hard and pulsating as it had been before. He reached
down and felt the sensitive head. It was still too early to beat off
again, but he held it and fondled it as his tongue moved up and began
to lick Ethan’s dick.
“Aaaaaaaa!” cried Ethan. He was squirming beneath
Robby’s frantically licking tongue. Robby made no slow licks, as Ethan
had to him. He licked as if he were starving for Ethan’s dick.
“Nnng! Nnng! Nnng!” Ethan whimpered. “Suck it!
Please, Robby! Suck it!”
Robby opened his mouth and took in the head of
Ethan’s dick. He held it there for a moment, running his tongue all
across the sensitive head and making Ethan cry out and jerk, almost in
pain. Then he plunged down, taking the bigger, longer dick as far into
his mouth as he could. He brought his nose near the silky hair and held
the iron-like, throbbing penis before pulling back.
“Aaaaaaaa!” Ethan cried again. Robby plunged down
again and again. Ethan threw his head back.
“I’m gonna cum!”
He grabbed Robby’s head. In a split second, Robby
was shocked to realize that Ethan was going to shoot into his mouth and
then realized that he wanted it, desperately. He plunged again and
again and Ethan screamed, his body becoming stiff and then writhing and
The first shot surprised Robby. It was bitter, but
by the second, and then the third, he realized he loved it. It was
Ethan’s cum. Ethan was cuming in his mouth! Ethan! Was cuming! In his
What better way could Robby show he loved Ethan? He
was thrilled and wildly horny again.
Suddenly, Ethan cried in pain.
“Stop! I can’t take it anymore!”
Robby pulled back, holding Ethan’s cum in his mouth,
grinning. Ethan collapsed back against the headboard, gasping. After
moment, he opened his eyes, his head rolling to the side, and grinned
breathlessly at Robby. He held out his left arm.
“Come here,” he said weakly. Robby smiled and
crawled up beside him. They wrapped their arms around each other and
rested their heads on each other.
They said nothing. Neither needed to. Holding each
other spoke more than words could have.
And, at that moment, as another boy lay in bed and
dreamt of glittering dances and deep romance, and yet another yearned
to be held and loved, Robby and Ethan became one.
And, so, you have Chapter Seven. I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me
know what you think at my new email address: fthinker@ gmail.com.
Thank you for reading my story