Date: Sun, 16 Sep 2001 18:30:08 -0400
From: C. E. Jordan <c.e._Jordan@MailAndNews.com>
Subject: A KISS FOR RONALDO 1 (Revised)

Copyright c.e. jordan
c.e. jordan@mailandnews.com




                    A KISS FOR RONALDO 1



     "Sir...SIR??" the young voice called.

      I came to the window and looked down at the boy. "Hi Ronaldo," I said,
and waited for him to say something. But he had lost confidence and just
looked up at me with hopeful eyes not knowing what else to say.

     Ronaldo was a student in my English class. He was twelve. Somehow
he found out where I lived and every afternoon after school, he would
show up on his shiny green bicycle still dressed in his school uniform of
little khaki shorts and cream-coloured shirt. He raced up and down the
short stretch of dirt road in front of my house. Back and forth he went every
few minutes, shirt tail untucked and flying behind him, always looking up
at my window hoping I'd notice him. Occasionally, he stopped directly in
front of my gate to do spinning `wheelie' tricks on his bike. Hidden behind
the window curtains I grinned when he lost control and fell on his butt with
the bike on top of him. Ronaldo wasn't really hurt, but he fled
embarrassed, his tail red with the dust from the road.

     But now, after a week of showing off in front of my house, he had
screwed up enough courage to ride into my front yard and call for me. I
smiled down at his cute confused face, and that seemed to break the ice
for him.

     "Can you come out and play?" He asked.

     I thought, why shouldn't I go out and have some fun for a change?
Teacher or not, I was still a kid. "Wait...I'll be right down."

     At sixteen, I was teaching English and other subjects in a South
American school as part of a special nine month research project. My
students were between six years old and my own age. A combination of
home schooling and just plain being smart had allowed me to graduate
from High School two years earlier at age fourteen. Because of my youth, I
was the object of intense curiousity for kids at the Santa Maria free school.
The boys and girls were very intrigued that a kid practically their own age
was their teacher, especially since I looked even younger than I actually
was. But they had far better manners and were much better behaved than
the average kid in the States. Once the giggling stopped, they were fairly
easy to teach.

     Outside my house was the narrow, dusty red road, and just beyond
that, running parallel to it, was a canal with calm waters the colour of black
coffee; it was actually a narrow river about thirty feet across. At night,
when
it rained, I'd sit by my window watching many pairs of tiny phosphorescent
lights float along the canal like emeralds glowing in the darkness. Those
were the eyes of sharp-nosed caimans, a variety of alligator out to enjoy
the storm.

     Across the canal was a wooded, wild-looking area which we called the
'backdam' that ran for several miles.

     I loved to hear Ronaldo's laughter falling all around me into  the red
dust as we raced his bike recklessly up and down the street dodging an
occasional donkey-cart, and the almost non-existent traffic. He would
always call me 'Sir' or `Teacher', until I told him to call me
Charles--unless we were at school. It took awhile, but eventually I
became just Charles to him. Still, the funny `girlish' way he acted
sometimes, often made me quite nervous. He never tried to hide his
crush on me, and I did my best not to blush when he'd look at me with rapt
adoration in his eyes.

     Ronaldo and I became good friends really fast. We wrestled in the
grass and played hide and seek in the yard of my rented house where
there were clumps of bushes and lots of good places to hide. And we
romped innocently in the garden out front among endless varieties of
blossoming plants that grew virtually untended. I was comfortable with
books, nature was less familiar, but I recognized sunflowers, yellow
buttercups, and red and pink roses. Ronny and I had fun on the small
swing and a see-saw at the side of the house. And we got yelled at by
Nilda, the housekeeper, for running through the vegetable garden at back.

     The best times was when we'd take a little canoe across the canal to
explore the 'backdam' which we pretended was a wild jungle. Ronaldo
showed me where a particular sweet purple berry grew and we picked
plump ripe fruit such as Mangoes, right off the trees. Once, he even let me
help catch a funny-looking yellow bird with black markings which he kept
as a pet in a large cage.

     On our walks into the backdam, except for the wind, the trees, and
bird-calls, we were totally alone--most of the time.

     It was an extra-warm afternoon even for our part of the tropics, and
Ronaldo had just taken off his shirt and tied it around his waist. I tried not
to stare at the soft curves of his perfect body, the gentle definition of his
stomach...

     "Wait..." Ronaldo halted suddenly and grabbed my arm.

     "What is it?"

     "I heard something."

     Then I heard it too, odd grunting noises coming from just beyond a
clump of trees off the narrow path itself. We sneaked up and quietly
peeked through the bushes. There were two people lying in the grass, a
black guy and a woman--teenagers, I think. The couple, half
undressed, sweaty skin gleaming under the tropical sun, were making
love. We watched mesmerized as they did 'it'--twice--with barely a
pause in between.

     Ronaldo's bare torso was pressed so close to me I could feel his
breath inhale and exhale in warm puffs against my neck: in...then
out...in...out...almost in sync with the rhythmic movements of the couple
before us. Ronny sneaked his arm around me while we watched. The two
people got into a position where we could actually see the man entering
the girl. They were only about fifteen feet away and we were scared they
might hear us moving about in the bushes so we remained totally still.
The only things that moved were the rustling leaves and Ronaldo's fingers
which seemed to be stroking my arm. He sighed audibly when the man
plunged into the woman.

     It appeared as if they were nearing the end again, I pulled Ronaldo up.
"Let's get out of here before they see us," I whispered. Reluctantly, we
crept back to the main trail, then ran as fast as we could away from that
spot.

     We finally stopped to catch our breath and Ronaldo doubled over with
laughter. He giggled nervously, "You saw that...? You saw that? That was
sooo funny..." It was as if he couldn't believe his eyes. "You ever seen
anything like that before?"

      "No," I said.

     "Charles....you ever....DO.....anything like that?

     "What? Noooo!!" I said, my ears and face growing hot with
embarrassment. But Ronaldo didn't seem to notice and kept on
speaking.

     "I saw my sister and her boyfriend kissing once..."

     "That's not anything bad." I said.

     "But they were using...tongues..." Ronaldo whispered that last shocking
bit of information into my ear.

     He looked up at me with those dark long-lashed eyes that seemed
large enough to take over most of his face. I had to look away, he made
my insides quiver. "You ever do it Charles? With tongues?"

     "Never," I said truthfully. I'd never kissed anyone in a sexual
way...that
is, if you didn't count damp smooches from the seductive Solomon
sisters, American girls who lived nearby. Judith, twelve, pretty and wild,
and her very smart slightly younger sister, Denise, would occasionally go
on the attack. They'd plant big wet ones on my lips or cheeks then run
away giggling. Somehow, no matter how often it happened, I was never
prepared and always ended up looking and feeling stupid, dazed and
confused. I think the girls liked the effect they had on me.

     Ronaldo drew nearer and hooked his right arm into my left. We walked
quietly arm in arm on a carpet of fallen leaves amidst bird-calls and musty
earthen smells. Every now and again thin branches reaching out from the
bushes would gently whip across our chests and arms as we walked
along. And tall palm trees marched like sentinels along both sides of the
narrow path. Ronaldo's free hand briefly brushed across the small tent at
the front of his khaki shorts as he observed, "I feel funny...do you feel
funny?" Without waiting for an answer, he bent forward to take a look for
himself. He smiled. I said nothing as he looked searchingly at my face.

     "So...I wonder how they do it?"

	    "Hey, we just saw in great amazing detail how they do it."

     "Not THAT, silly....I mean kissing...with tongues and everything."

     By this time we had gone far enough away from the horny couple to
stop and take a rest under a baby Tamarind tree off the main path. We
were going to eat our sandwiches there.

     "I...I'm not sure," I began, "I guess they just put their lips
together...then
stick their tongues into...geeze, Ronny...I dunno....."

     But Ronaldo was fixated on this kissing business and wouldn't let go of
the subject... I wonder now why he wasn't more interested in the actual
sex act rather than just kissing. Maybe seeing it took the mystery away.

     "I think it must feel real yuckky..."

     "I dunno, everybody seems to like it...a LOT!" I said.

     Ronaldo was sitting right up next to me again, he leaned his head on
my shoulder and was quiet for a few minutes...he didn't eat anything. I
took a swig of grape-flavoured Cool Aid the housekeeper had packed for
me. "You're not hungry yet Ronny?"

     He didn't answer that, instead he almost whispered, "You want to try
it...just for practice?"

     My heart almost stopped, "Uh....try what?" I asked stupidly.

     "Kissing." He said simply.

     Ronaldo leaned away to look me in the face with those adorable dark
eyes, "I won't tell anybody...and nobody can see us here."

     "But we just saw some people who thought they were alone." I said
stubbornly.

     He considered that and quietly rose up and left our little cul-de-sac. He
walked out onto the main path without a word. He had been gone a
couple of minutes and I was beginning to worry. Did I hurt his feelings?
Had he just upped and left me there all alone? I was beginning to get
panicky feelings. I stood up and was about to try and follow Ronaldo when
he strolled back into the little clearing. "Oh god Ronaldo, I thought you left
me," and as if it was the most natural thing to do, he was in my arms and I
was hugging him like crazy.

     Ronny looked surprised--and pleased to be suddenly cuddled in my
arms, "I just went to see if there was anybody nearby," he said, "and
there's nobody around."

     I tried to release him, but he wouldn't be released.

     "I-said-there-is-nobody-here." Ronaldo enunciated each word
separately with emphasis. For a moment I gazed down into that face; I
observed his faultless light brown skin, and the colourless, barely-there
pubescent peach fuzz over the full lips now slightly parted. He tossed his
head slightly, flinging a lock of curly black hair off his shoulder. He was
warm in my arms, the air was sweet with nature's fragrance, and those
lips were so inviting. Were they as soft as they looked? Suppose I did it
wrong?

     I realized I wanted to do this--needed to do this. I pushed back
slightly from Ronny. I wanted to really look at him...at his body. And he let
me do whatever I wanted. I put both hands on his bare, slightly damp
shoulders, then I slowly slid my fingers down the front of his body. I was
amazed at what a miracle his flesh was, so firm, yet yielding. I touched his
puffy nipples with a fingertip. Ronaldo closed his eyes and appeared to
shiver slightly. I put my arms around him again, around his waist and
pulled him to me. I didn't exactly know what I was doing, but I knew this
was right. I held Ronny. His arms tightened around my neck and my
hands slid up and down the channel of his downy back. My lips pressed
against the side of his face--one side then the next. First my lips, then
my tongue continued to investigate the complications of his ear, the curve
of his neck...and Ronny was pressing against me--rubbing. His low
purr articulated into a whisper: yesss...kiss me, kiss me, kiss me...

     So I did....tentatively, our lips touched, at first an awkward
seeking...an
adjustment...pressing...movement from side to side...incredible
tenderness....a lip sucked in--released--sucked in again...the click
of teeth...dewy, delicate touches, probing of Cool-Aid sweet tongues as
we sank more comfortably into each other...

     At some point I realized we were no longer standing upright but
reclining in the long grass and fallen leaves just like that couple we had
seen earlier. Entwined, we continued kissing. I never wanted to stop.
Ronaldo's fresh boy-smell was like seawater mixed with crushed grass
and roses....

     Ronny's eyes were closed, his mouth agape and my hand was
caressing the swelling bump at the front of his shorts when I became
conscious enough to hear voices approaching, and rough boy laughter. I
shook Ronaldo whose eyes snapped open and tried to focus.

     "Somebody's coming..."

     "Huh...??"

     "Hurry, Ronny sit up!"

     I managed to drag him into a sitting position. We were way off the path,
but could still be seen by anyone who happened to look in our direction. It
was a good thing I was fully dressed and Ronaldo still had his pants
on--tight and uncomfortable though it had become. I grabbed a
sandwich and had it in my hand when the boys--three of
them--came into view. My heart was thundering and Ronaldo's eyes
were still mostly unfocussed. He put his hand between his legs, I quickly
pulled it away. The boys saw us immediately. I knew them. They were
older kids, Mark, Ramond, and Paul from our school. They were all about
fourteen to fifteen years old.

     "Hey, look....it's Teacher," said Mark.

     "Hi guys." I tried to sound natural and relaxed.

     "What are you doing here...Sir?" asked Paul smiling and curious to see
his boy-teacher away from the usual school environment.

     "Oh...nothing much, just taking a walk...just like you..."

     Ramond, a handsome, muscled kid who was nearly my age and
slightly bigger, frowned as he noticed Ronaldo sitting next to me. His hot
eyes looked the boy over carefully, up, down, from head to toe, then asked,
"What's this one doing with you?"

     Ronaldo's face darkened and his bottom lip pushed out, but he said
nothing.

     I realized Ramond had not missed the debris caught in Ronny's hair,
the grass stains on his shorts or the dry grass stuck onto the boy's damp
chest.

     I turned back to Ramond, "Oh....Ronny is just showing me around...we
live near each other." That seemed to satisfy Mark and Paul, but I thought
Ramond was still looking at us with a knowing smirk on his face. I had an
unaccountable urge to punch him in the mouth.

     "We're going to pick wild gooseberries, you want to come with us Sir?"
asked cheerful Paul.

     Ronny and I stood up. "Uh...no, we were just about to go back home."

     Ramond stepped forward, "Well...maybe this one wants to come have
fun with us..." indicating Ronny with a disdainful tilt of his chin. Ronaldo
shrank back against me.

     "His name isn't `this one'..." I said coldly, it's `Ronaldo' as you know
very well...and he's with me." I looked steadily into Ramond's intense grey
eyes as I put an arm around Ronny who felt suddenly small and
defenceless. The other boys looked on confused, unsure of what was
happening between us. Ramond's wolf eyes held my gaze for awhile,
then gave in. He chuckled as he turned away, "See you around squirt,
er....'Ronaldo'." And he laughed again.

(to be continued)