Date: Fri, 01 Sep 2000 20:48:49 GMT
From: Ganymede
Subject: Cat and Mouse, by Ganymede

WARNING

This story contains graphic descriptions of sexual acts between
men and a MINOR boy. If the subject of man/boy sex offends you,
if this material is illegal  in your place of residence, or if
you are under the legal age for such   material, do not read
further! You have been warned! Read at your own risk!

The story is copyrighted under the pseudonym, Ganymede. Copies
been submitted to various archives. Placing them in other
archives for monetary gain violates the copyright.



Special Note.

There exists an increasing number of stories with themes of
sexual violence carried out against young boys. The stories are
usually written so that readers can be aroused by men who
wantonly inflict pain on young boys, and in a few cases even
death. I find such stories very depressing and objectionable. I
began this story with the objective of a taking a different
perspective, that of the injured party, a ten-year- old boy. My
ultimate goal was a story that enables readers to identify with
the victim and his family and reject the horror of sadism. That
story was originally entitled "Life is a Ball". While violent
acts were mentioned only in passing, and I had absolutely no
intention of causing harm, or inciting other to harmful acts
against minors, I have decided that the end did not justify the
means. Accordingly, I have rewritten the story. If you have a
copy of "Life is a Ball", I would appreciate it you could delete
it and replace it with "Cat and Mouse."

Feel free to post the story to Internet newsgroups or send it to
your friends. If you enjoy my story, please contribute funds to a
charitable organization providing services for boys.

The story is fiction. Any resemblance to any individual, alive or
dead, is unfortunate.

FINAL WARNING:

If you are under the age of 18, if this material is illegal in
your   place of residence, or if man-boy relationships aren't
your thing, then exit   now and save yourself from a life of sin!


Cat and Mouse, by Ganymede


Shawnee Valley Elementary School. May 15th, 2000


Although it was Skye's stage debut, I still expected that his
first performance would be worth watching. Certainly, from the
center of the fifth row, I was well placed to see everything on
stage. I waited anxiously for the lights to dim.

My ex-wife and her husband were one row in front and twenty seats
to the right. After a curt acknowledgement of my unwelcome
presence when they took their seats, they ignored me. I was
'personae non gratis'. Nothing had changed during the four or
five months since I had least seen them. Their two girls, two-
year-old spoiled twins with prissy curling blond locks, were
whining and wriggling and disrupting the people around them. As
usual, their parents made no effort to quiet them. Finally the
house lights dimmed. The principal, forty pounds overweight and
showing signs of premature aging, came to the front of the stage.
She spoke with deliberate slowness, as if addressing a class of
fifth graders with short attention spans.

"Good evening. I'd like to welcome you all to the Shawnee Valley
Elementary School's Annual Fifth Grade Show. This year, as your
program indicates, our students will be performing an original
show, 'Enough is Enough'. I think it is undoubtedly the best
performance that we have done in many years and I hope you get as
much enjoyment from watching as the students did in getting ready
for tonight."

She smiled at the audience, showing obvious pride. "Now, while
all of the students worked very hard and deserve both your
appreciation and applause, I am told that there is one student in
particular who I should mention at this time. The theme of
tonight's show came from an idea provided by one of the fifth-
grade students, Skye Ryder. Young Skye also worked very hard to
develop three of the songs you'll be hearing. In addition, he
will be singing the theme song that he composed. Skye is a very
talented boy, but he's just one among the many talented children
you will be seeing tonight. Ladies and gentleman, the students of
the Fifth Grade of Shawnee Valley Elementary School proudly
present, 'Enough is Enough'."

I wondered where Skye was as the show progressed from one
amateurish performance of nervous boys and girls to the next. He
was certainly not among the more than eighty students on stage.
There were no less than thirty-five boys in the show, and I could
see at first glance that he was not one of them. Still, I studied
them closely, lingering on the handsome boys, the slender boys,
the boys who exuded character and intelligence in their posture
and faces. They were always boys who would be incredibly easy to
fall in love with. Despite the enjoyable distraction, I still
waited impatiently for Skye to make his stage debut.

It was thirty-five minutes into the show before he entered from
stage right. He stepped quickly across the stage, moving with the
grace and elegance of a conditioned performer who knew the
importance of stage presence and how to make a grand entrance.
What was also very clear was that Skye knew how to entertain. In
those few elegant steps, not quite running but quicker than a
fast walk, he showed more flair than the last three students who
had demonstrated the effect of at least a few years of dance
lessons in an amusing parody of a number from 'Cats'.

Skye pirouetted, and stopped. For a moment he was frozen, poised
with one arm outstretched, legs braced. He leaned to one side so
far that his balance would have been lost had his attention waned
even a fraction of a second. It was a dynamic moment and it
demanded the audience's complete attention. The silence was
prolonged. His hair was punk-style dyed in vivid colors, with
spikes that were sticking straight up and probably moussed. Under
the spotlights, the effect was every bit as outrageous as it was
intended to be. His face was vibrant, and his juvenile sexuality
was electrifying in a way that took me by complete surprise.
Since I had last seen him a day or two before Christmas, he
appeared to have changed dramatically. Suddenly, he was no longer
a little boy. This was Skye as he really was. If only for a
single night, he was 'out'.

I could almost feel his step-father's distaste rising from the
row in front of me. However, his appearance not withstanding, his
clothes were quintessential boy! He wore a brilliant red shirt,
tight blue jeans, and white Nike sneakers. The music teacher at
the old black Steinway took his cue as Skye continued to hold his
position. He built up to a key-thumping crescendo before Skye
moved a muscle. Then, he jerked his arm down, spun around, paused
for an instant with his cute bubble- butt presented for the
audience's admiration, and then he turned back to face them. Skye
leaned into the microphone, swallowing anxiously. His first few
notes were definitely uncertain, wavering until he found the key
and his exuberant confidence returned in full measure. Then,
reassured that he could do this all by himself, he began to sing,
phasing each syllable perfectly while he gyrated, his body moving
in superb synchronization to the music.

"Enough is enough,

I just wanna be me,

Don't try to make me,

Be something else.

I don't wanna be less,

So don't try to mold me,

Don't hold me back,

Just let me be me,

Enough is enough,

I just wanna be me."

The combined voices of the fifth-grade class entered on cue the
instant he froze again. His head hung down, one arm by his side,
the other reaching upward with fingertips extended to the
curtains above him.

"I want to be me,

I want to learn who I am,

I want to discover it all,

I want to be me,

I want to play,

I want to run,

I just want to be me."

While the lyrics were simple, they had meaning for a ten- year-
old, if not a hidden meaning that only Skye appreciated. Perhaps
is was just my imagination, but it seemed that he was singing
only for me. What the lyrics lacked in depth and maturity, the
accompanying music did not. It was aggressive, a dominant
powerful rhythm with a wide range of tone that made one want to
clap along. It was exceptionally good, made even more remarkable
by Skye's outstanding performance. I wondered how long Skye had
practiced. Days, weeks, months, since Christmas when he hinted
that something was happening at his school. Perhaps even as long
as it had taken to compose the music itself. His hard work
showed. He exuded professionalism, and he was not even ten years
old. Voice and motion united with the music again when he came
alive and took control. He was a human dynamo sparking with
electricity, dancing in perfect harmony to his own rock-beat that
was pounded out of the piano by a teacher who was also completely
caught up in his performance and the music. To me, and I suspect
to many others in the audience, it was overtly sexual. At the
same time, it was an innocent expression of youth and it deserved
respect for its enthusiasm as much as the stroke of genius that
created it. Its ambiguity made it even more inspiring, bringing a
message that was obvious if one cared to listen for it.

All too soon it was over. It was all I could do not to stand and
clap. He deserved a standing ovation, yet no one stood up.
However, I clapped as loudly as I could, and then some. I clapped
until my hands hurt. Slowly the applause died away. Skye's song
was the high point and a brilliant conclusion to the performance.
His song had provided the climax, conveying the meaning of a ten-
year-old's existence. Without the last few minutes, the show was
marginally entertaining. With Skye's stupendous climax, the show
was worth paying money to see. My heart was beating quickly,
almost as if I was on stage with him. For a few minutes he had
soared higher than most people achieve in a lifetime.

He bowed, swooping low and suddenly became a nervous little boy
again. He slowly straightened up. For the first time he seemed to
become aware that hundreds of people were sitting in the
audience. This was no dress rehearsal, this was the performance
of his life. His eyes opened wide and he smiled beautifully and
flashed brilliantly white teeth. His smile was shy, yet more than
enough to show that he was proud and very aware that he had
excelled beyond anyone's expectations, including his own.

"He certainly knows what he wants to be. Talk about a pussy boy,"
the man next to me said loudly to the woman sitting on his other
side.

"SShhhh. Not so loud, Donald. Anyway, I think he's very good-
looking."

"He's pretty, that's for sure. If you ask me, that one's a faggot
in the making," the man snorted derisively. "Look at his hair.
He's a goddamn homo-sex-ual. Even his name, what was it? Skye?
That's a faggot name if ever there was one."

"Husssshhhh! Some one will hear you, honey."

"Well he is! Look at him! Talk about a little cocksucker. He's
got the lips for it too. God! He's probably wearing lipstick! It
certainly looks like it. Anyway, it's not just me. I bet every
man here is thinking the same thing. He's a little queer that
would have been happier if he was a girl! The only good thing I
can say is that we won't have to worry about keeping him away
from Caroline. That's all I can say. "

I shuddered. No matter how much I wanted to deny it, or how much
I wanted to hit the man as hard as I could, they were right of
course. I recognized it the moment he came onto the stage. In
fact, I had known Skye was 'different' for several years. Skye
radiated an aura that was anything but that of a ten-year- old
boy. On stage, he was in his element, expressing himself and
fulfilling a role determined for him by genetic predisposition.
Yet, he was also very different to the androgenous boy of several
months ago. Then, the signs were evident even though no one had
taken the time to listen to him. He was fighting a battle that
few boys struggle with before their mid-teens.

I felt uncomfortable, silently accepting responsibility for the
unfortunate creature who now joined the other boys on the stage.
Beside them, he was slender, and among the smallest in size.
Standing beside him was one boy who was at least a head taller,
and thirty pounds heavier. Skye looked much younger than ten
years old. Almost as soon as the applause faded the overweight
principal returned to the stage. She smiled at her students, her
eyes lingering on Skye with considerable pride while she walked
to the microphone.

"Ah hem,... Ladies and Gentlemen, the students of Shawnee Valley
Elementary School's Fifth Grade thank you for your applause. I
hope you enjoyed this year's show as much as I did. In my fifteen
years of teaching 'Enough is Enough' is by far and away the best
performance I've seen. As parents you should be very proud of
what they've accomplished here tonight. And I hope some of your
applause was for the remarkable young man who worked so hard to
make the show a success. I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot more of
Skye Ryder in coming years. He really is a little dynamo, isn't
he? And that voice of his is simply out of this world. We also
need a special round of applause for Mr. McVue, our music teacher
who worked so hard to get the show ready. He also provided the
piano accompaniment tonight."

She took a quick breath and smiled at the audience as if to
confirm the truth of her statement. There was a small ripple of
applause.

"Now, before you all leave, there is one more thing we need to
do. This year we are especially fortunate to have Caroline Gilly
in the Fifth Grade. I'm going to ask Caroline Gilly to step
forward and draw the winning ticket for the raffle. Why Caroline
Gilly, you may ask? Well, Caroline's father is president of
Halcyon Travel, and it is Halcyon Travel that has donated this
year's prize for the Fifth Grade Raffle. I understand that he's
in the audience tonight, and I would like him to know how very
much we appreciate his generous gift. I also want you to know
that your sons and daughters have all worked very hard to sell
tickets and the proceeds will be used to add a new computer to
the Library. The first prize is an all-expenses-paid trip for two
to MOUSEWorld, flying first class with six nights' accommodations
at the resort of your choice, and a four-day pass to the park.
Think of all the fun the lucky winner will be able to have."

She smiled at the audience as two husky boys dragged a large drum
on small metal castors across the stage. A pretty dark- haired
girl stepped forward from the middle of the front row. She had
the 'I'm popular with everyone' look as she daintily walked to
the microphone. Her pace was measured and well-practiced. The
teacher nodded and Caroline dipped her slender right hand into
the drum and felt around for several seconds. Slowly she lifted
up a single ticket, pale pink the same color as the one in my
pocket. Without a word, she nervously handed the ticket to the
teacher. Her moment of fame had passed.

"And the winning number is,...." The teacher took a deep breath.
"One thousand, seven hundred and eighty-eight. That's one-seven-
eight-eight. I wonder who the lucky person is."

She gazed around the auditorium as if expecting someone to leap
to his or her feet and scream, 'I've WON!' Instead, there was a
sudden silence. Given that it was very likely that it was
Caroline's father sitting next to me, the last thing I was going
to do was draw attention to myself.

"Well, whoever won, I hope they have a good time. The winner
should call the School tomorrow to make arrangements to pick up
the tickets. Now, I hope you will join me in a show of resounding
applause for Mr. Gilly and Halcyon Travel for their generosity,
and please do remember to use them for all of your travel needs
in the future....."

There was nothing like resounding applause, although the man and
woman sitting next to me looked around them as if expecting much
more recognition. After a few cautionary notes from the principal
about collecting belongings, including Fifth Graders, and
instructions about leaving the parking area by the road to the
left, the audience rose in mass and departed.

Deidre was waiting in the foyer. Perhaps she was waiting for me,
perhaps not. Robert was standing thirty feet away, guarding the
precious angels and trying his best to ignore me. The two girls
were sulky, evidently envious of their half-brother's success.
Whenever I was around they seemed to go to unusually spiteful
efforts to let Skye know that they resented him, a condition that
his step-father duplicated with insidious charm but less effect.

"Alex, I was hoping I'd have the chance to meet you. I'm sure
Skye was glad you managed to take time out of your busy schedule
to see his little play."

"Skye was superb, Deidre," I commented dryly. "What you just
referred to as a 'little play' might be apt for what the other
kids did on stage, but it's not for him. He was exceptionally
good. I think he has a great future ahead of him."

"I'm sure he'd like to hear that from you," Deirdre said snidely.
"You who have never been on stage."

"Don't belittle him, or me for that matter, Deidre. I may not be
on stage like you but we both know that I've seen a lot of very
good performers over the years. I know the kid has talent, and
lot's of it. He was by far the best on the stage. For his age,
he's simply incredible."

"Come on!"

"Honestly, you should think about sending him to performing arts
school next year. I'll even help out with the cost if it's a
problem for Robert. With some luck he might even be on Broadway
in a few years. He's got natural talent, and not just in singing
and dancing. He could go a long way, Deidre."

"Okay, enough already. I agree he's very good. I don't want to
fight with you, Alex. Hell, why is it that every time we talk, we
end up fighting like cats and dogs."

"I'm an ass, I guess."

I shrugged and turned away. I saw Skye walking slowly towards us,
his face uncertain when he saw us together. He glanced around,
looking for an excuse to turn back and avoid meeting the two of
us together. I waved and beckoned to him.

"Hi Dad," he muttered nervously as he walked up. "What did you
think?"

I wasn't his father but I still appreciated the recognition. I
ruffled his hair playfully. "In a word,..." I paused for effect.
"I think you were great, kid," I admitted honestly, emphasizing
the word 'great' far more than I needed. "I guess another word is
awesome, or fantastic, or mind-blowing, or,...."

Skye smiled weakly. "I was okay. My timing was off a bit at the
start. I was going to do two songs, one after the other to
finish, but we had to cut the first one because the Principal
thought I had too much to do in the show."

I nodded. "One song was more than enough to show what you could
do," I said proudly. "You wrote the song, and the music too?"

Skye nodded once. His fingers rubbed together nervously and he
blinked rapidly. "My teacher, Mr. McVue helped a bit with the
score.... I guess it was okay. I'm glad you came,..."

"So am I. Very glad. I like your haircut a lot by the way."

Skye regarded me uncertainly. "You like it?" He asked nervously.

I laughed. "It's pure L.A., and it suits you much more than that
bowl cut you used to have. What's more, it looked just right for
the song," I added brazenly. "I expect it's a bit radical for a
kid your age in these parts though, even for your mom."

"Radical? Yeah, I guess you could say that." With a deliberate
glare at the man standing near the exit doors, Skye added with a
slight smile, "It drives him crazy."

"I expect it would." I glanced at Deirdre. Her expression gave
nothing away.

"I can't believe you came all the way from California just to
hear me sing."

I smiled. "Well, I really came for the raffle. I won, you know."

"You won?" Skye grinned. "Wow! That's fantastic."

"That's nice for you," Deidre said snidely.

"Hey, that means I sold the winning ticket so I get a free book."

Deirdre gestured dismissively. "I'd rather they paid off your
library fines, Skye. So who will you take, Alex? Your friend
Peter, or Paul, or whatever his name is. He's what, eighteen or
nineteen now? That's a bit on the old side to go to a theme park,
isn't it?"

"Paul. He'd be about twenty now, Deirdre, I think. I haven't
seen him in two years."

"Wouldn't it just be a whole lot easier to give the tickets away?
I'm sure Robert and I could put them to good use this summer."

I glared at her, imagining the twin girls leading them through
the toddler attractions while Skye dawdled behind in an attempt
to distance himself. A counter idea formed in my mind. I had a
standing invitation to discuss joining a movie production company
that wanted my skills. This way I could kill the proverbial two
birds with the one stone. I barely smiled, but inside I was
suddenly happy at the idea I was bout to voice aloud.

"Actually, I was thinking of taking Skye, assuming you'd let him
go with me of course?" I added. The expression on her face
immediately became one that was less of amusement and more of
consternation.

"Really? You and Skye?"

"Yes. I don't get to see him all that often. I have some business
I need to do in Orlando in June. It'll be a combination business
and pleasure trip, but mostly pleasure if Skye's with me."

Skye beamed. Deirdre did not say no. She said she would think
about it and let me know in a week.



First Class Lounge, Pittsburgh International Airport. June 10th,
2000



After my second margarita was delivered to the table, I began to
relax. Six dollars for a margarita was outrageous, even in an
airport. However, I always needed a few drinks before I got on a
plane. A long time ago I had decided that being drunk and in
First Class was the only way to fly. I turned my attention from
the Boeing 767 jet that was visible through the broad expanse of
glass on the other side of the terminal. For the second time in
four months I had the opportunity to study my 'son'.

Skye seemed oblivious to my presence as he picked disinterestedly
at the few remaining nacho chips and salsa. He had not changed
since I had seen him at his school performance. He had the same
pale creamy skin that looked as if the sun had never touched him,
a winter 'white' that would probably last through most of the
summer. Although I longed to touch him every time I laid eyes on
him, since the marriage disintegrated I had yet to find the
courage to caress what was I remembered to be very soft skin. I
pretended that my feelings were above suspicion while I guiltily
consoled myself with longing glances.

I studied him as often and as long as I could without appearing
to show more interest in him than was reasonable under the
circumstances. When the opportunity arose, we wrestled, and if he
was so disposed, I performed the occasional back rub, always
clothed of course. He was smooth and hairless and the muscular
development of his slender arms and legs befitted a young dancer,
lean and vibrant, a quality that reminded me of lithe young deer.
With his narrow waist he appeared almost girlish. The fact was,
as his mother once observed, he was much too good looking for his
own good. The fact was that he was pretty enough to be a girl
and, as others had all too recently surmised, sufficiently
effeminate to raise the obvious suspicion that he would be far
happier in the role of the other sex. I had no doubts that he was
going to be gay when the time came for him to explore his sexual
needs.

I watched him across the table, playing with his food as he
excavated a chasm into the refried beans, created a dam, and
then, added salsa by the spoonful until it slopped over the edge
onto his plate. The burrito dam showed no indication of bursting
before the plates were cleared away. He was shy, vague, and
frustratingly unhurried at the best of times. He was disturbingly
unpreoccupied with the life he led. However, the truth was that
his normally tranquil manner also aroused me at the same time as
it worried me. Indeed, my own attraction posed a moral dilemma.

There was far more to Skye than met the eye and I often caught
myself wondering what would become of him if left to his own
devices. The small gold ring in the lobe of his right ear
suggested that he already realized the direction he was headed
in. It seemed impossible than any boy would not grasp the
implications of right over left. I was struck by the possibility
that he was already beginning to express his sexuality to a
hostile world. That Certainly, he should be in show-business if
appearance and talent were considered, I mused. He was bright
enough to do that, and much more, yet from past behavior he gave
me the impression that he lacked the dedication to go very far.
Perhaps he would become a drama teacher at college like his
mother. However, he was very unlike what one would expect of her
offspring. She had been a something of a tom-boy for as long as I
could remember, while her son was girlish with his long dark
locks, curling silken hair that was long enough to reach to his
shoulders and always hanging annoyingly in his eyes. Worse still,
his step father might guide him into insurance sales or some
other mind-numbing line of work. I shuddered at the thought. I
suspected that the last four years Skye had spent with his step-
father had proven to be very difficult indeed.

There was still another thirty minutes before we had to be at the
gate. Despite his apparent boredom, Skye was radiant, his
excitement building with every minute. He smiled every time his
eyes met mine. Indeed, he had not eaten much and he picked at his
food only because he needed to divert his attention from the
imminent departure.

"I'm glad you could stay for lunch, Deidre. This was a good idea.
I really hate eating airline food," I said as I glanced at my
watch.

"Well, we really don't get much chance to talk," she answered.
She smiled fondly. "You never did like travelling very much, did
you Alex?"

I shrugged. "No! I don't like paying to be cramped up and fed
crap."

Skye giggled and self-consciously rubbed the lobe of his right
ear. I smiled. "How long have you had the ear ring?" I asked.

"Since last week."

"You let him have his ear pierced?" I asked Deirdre.

"Why not? He's old enough to make decisions like that for
himself. Girls his age get their ears pierced all the time."

"So do some of the boys in my class," Skye interjected.

"It's not like it means anything, nowadays anyway. Besides, it
was his money."

"I guess I should be thankful it's only in his ear instead of
through his lip or his eyebrow. Hell, I've seen people with the
damned things stuck through their tongues. God only knows where
else they have rings."

Skye giggled again. "You don't mind?"

"I'm surprised, that's all Skye."

"Robert was pretty angry," Deirdre admitted causally. "He's like
that sometimes."

"Most times," Skye smirked.

"Skye!"

"Yeah, I know Mom. I have to try to get on better with him. It
isn't my fault he doesn't like me."

"Of course he likes you, Honey. It's just,... well he doesn't
understand you very well, and the ear ring thing took him a bit
by surprise."

"So I have to be nice to him while he makes fun of me," Skye
retorted.

"Actually, it kind of suits you. It says something about you," I
interjected. "Aren't they usually in the left ear, though?"

Skye's face darkened. His lips pursed, his thoughts almost
perceivable. After a moment, his expression changed back. "I
wanted to be different."

"That's okay, I want you to be different too," I replied.

I gazed at Skye, wondering just how different he wanted to be.
The last few years had taught me difficult life could be for
someone who was gay.

"We will soon begin boarding for Flight 105 to Orlando. Could
all passengers holding boarding passes for Flight 105 please come
to Gate 28? If you do not have a boarding pass please come to the
check-in at Gate 28. Also, the captain has asked that all
passengers check any baggage that exceeds the maximum carry- on
dimensions. We will begin general boarding in a few minutes.
First class passengers are now being boarded. Thank you. If you
have a first-class ticket please come to the boarding gate at
this time."

"I'm not at all certain about his summer," Deidre said suddenly.
I glanced at her, startled from my silent examination of her only
child, a bastard in the moral sense of the word if not by
character.

"Huh? Whose summer?"

"Skye's, of course! Who else would I be talking about?"

"I don't know. At Christmas I thought you had it all planned?"

"I did too. I was intending to spend most of my summer here. We
have a summer program at the College. Now it looks like I'll be
working at Wilford Falls again. A very interesting project has
come up. I'm going to spend the entire time with the same people
that I worked with last summer. We're working on a new play by
Adelman. It's even possible that it might go to New York."

"And?" I prompted.

"There's nothing much for Skye to do within miles of there, and
there certainly won't be any kids his age."

"I guess you'll have to stay with Robert and the girls, Skye," I
teased mindlessly.

Skye gave me a wry look that conveyed his displeasure. His mother
sighed.

"Alex, really! Robert has far too much to do with running the
business and everything. And with the girls, well he simply won't
have the time."

"So I don't understand why you haven't made other plans for him.
It's a bit late to start looking for a summer camp," I said
caustically.

"Hell, I just found out on Wednesday! I was planning on being
here the entire summer. Alex, I can hardly leave him by himself
here for two months, or dump him on Robert for that matter, now
can I?"

I shrugged. "What's the problem? Can't you try to enrol him in a
summer program or something? There has to be a dozen camps in
that part of the country. One has to have an opening even at this
late date. They must get cancellations. Kids get sick all the
time. They change their minds."

Deidre nodded and sighed weakly. "I know. I've already talked to
most of them about it. Most of them are already full and have
waiting lists. I found one, Camp Watchetoochie. They had a last
minute cancellation. A boy broke an arm or something like that.
They're supposed to be among the best in the country."

"It sounds like Camp Watch-your-tooshie," Skye interrupted
gleefully. "With a name like that I might as well be at Wilford,
Mom."

"We are now boarding rows 45 through 35 on Flight 105 to Orlando.
Could all passengers holding tickets for seats between rows 45
and 35 on Flight 105 please come to gate 28."

Deidre ignored Skye. "They say they could take him for the whole
summer, at least they say they can, even with the short notice.
The trouble is, well,... it's a long time at his age,... and,...
well,..." She glanced quickly at her son. "It's just that,...
it's just that I'm not pleased about leaving him alone for that
long, that's all."

In the past she had thought nothing of rushing off to some drama
capital of the world to study or give a workshop. I wondered what
had happened to change her mind. On previous summers she had no
hesitation in dragging Skye with her. However, since her marriage
to Robert Mackey III, she had mothered him until she became
overly protective. Perhaps she was over-compensating for her
husband's disinterest in him, or trying to mitigate the
competition afforded by the terrible twins. At Christmas when the
family gathered, and I dropped by to see Skye, she practically
doted on him. Maybe it was just to annoy me. Much to the
consternation of her husband, I went out of my way to spend even
more time with Skye than I had planned. After two days and
witnessing half-a-dozen fights, I presumed that there were
problems ahead on the marriage front. Too bad! Robert and Deidre
deserved each other.

Skye brushed his hair back, moving his hand from his forehead to
the nape of his neck before he turned his languid blinking blue
eyes on me. It was a distinctly feminine gesture, and one that
was overtly seductive. He needed a father, not the selfish
conceited oaf that Deidre had married. However, except for me, he
had never had a male role model. I stifled a smile when I
considered whether I qualified as a suitable role model for a
ten-year-old boy given that most parents would prefer to see men
like me languishing behind bars.

God only knew where Skye's father, his real father, was because
only his mother knew who he was. At least I hoped she knew, for
one could never be too certain of anything with Deidre. I
suspected that the Peace Corps harbored him in some remote corner
of the world. She had no qualms in admitting that Skye was an
accident, a mistake made in the heat of passion in a dry dusty
village in Africa or some other God-forsaken place. He was
further evidence of my sister's impetuous nature. On the positive
side, at least he had not been fathered by some negro villager
she met while studying tribal ceremonies. If anything, his genes
had benefited by natural selection. He was an extremely handsome
boy.

"There's always your mom and dad," I suggested lightheartedly,
even though I knew that a summer with his grandparents in
Baltimore would be totally unsuitable for the pretty boy sitting
opposite me.

"Hardly! He'll have nothing to do except follow them around the
golf-course. He'll be bored to death the entire time."

"Well take him with you then. If you're so afraid he'll be bored,
he can take his computer with him. He'll find something to do,
I'm sure."

"It's not just that,' she acknowledged. "I'm not happy about him
spending the summer with me. It's a very unusual place where I'm
going. Until a few years ago it was strictly by invitation, and
then you had to be nominated. It's just not a place where an
impressionable young boy should be."

"What on earth are you talking about, Deidre?"

"She means that just about everyone there is gay," Skye
interjected snidely.

"I find that a bit hard to believe," I said testily.

Had I been mistaken in my analysis of Skye? I seriously doubted
that I was wrong, but perhaps he was over-compensating, making up
for an interest that made him feel uncomfortable. His disparaging
tone was unsettling.

"Well you better believe it, Dad. Every man there is queer!" Skye
added hotly.

"Skye! That was years ago," Deidre interrupted in exasperation.

Skye shrugged. "It was two years ago, Mom. Anyway, last year was
exactly the same the entire time I was there."

I wondered what happened previously. Then I remembered that a
year ago Skye had a part in one of the plays they worked on.
There are only a few plays with parts suitable for a nine-year-
old boy. Suddenly, I suspected that something must have happened
that upset him. In all likelihood what had occurred was related
to his unnerving comment about homosexuals. Even if the
motivation was still lacking because he was still so young, he
certainly looked as if he was the sort of boy who not only
invited interest, but would say 'yes' if the opportunity
presented itself. But whatever happened, it did not seem to
bother him unduly.

"Then do the summer camp thing," I answered blandly, pushing
considerations of Skye's sexual orientation to the back of my
mind.

She shook her head quickly and I imagined that she had also
rejected the possibility for the same reason as I did.

"I expect it'll all work out once things have settled down," she
muttered as much to herself as to me.

We watched each other in silence. A minute passed. I emptied the
margarita and checked my watch again for the departure time,
stealing glances at Skye as he continued to play with his food.
Every few seconds he would quickly glance back at me. Again I
wondered what had happened the previous summer in Wilford. I had
an unsettling sense that both he and Deidre had something
planned.

"I have a favor to ask, Alexander," she said at last.

I smiled, expecting the worst now that she had called me
Alexander instead of Alex. It involved Skye, of that much I was
certain. I nodded and waited. I suspected it involved summer.

"I'd like you to keep Skye with you for a few weeks after you get
back from Florida, maybe as much as a month or more until I
figure out what to do with him. In a way, he's as much your
responsibility as he is mine."

My mouth dropped open in stunned surprise. Certainly, my income
had fed and clothed him for the first six years of his life, but
I owed him nothing. Her current husband had become his legal
guardian when I moved to California. Skye still called me dad,
and tended to say it even more often in Robert's presence.

"I'd like him to spend some time with you in LA anyway. I'm
always taking him, Alex. It would only be for a few weeks, and
well,.... As soon as I know how things stand at Wilford, if it's
okay for him to be there, you can put him on a plane."

I glanced at my step-son and he quickly averted his eyes to stare
at the construction zone on his plate. "Even a few weeks wouldn't
be a good idea. There's a problem, and I think you know what it
is, Deidre."

"I don't know what the problem is, Alex. I do know that Skye
wouldn't be any problem to you at all. He thinks of you as his
father, and you're used to being around him. Why, he could move
into your place. He would have a lot to keep him busy. I'm sure
he'll like where you live, and he's always well behaved. What's
more, he can pretty much take care of himself."

"We are now boarding rows 25 through 35 on Flight 105 to Orlando.
Could all passengers holding tickets for seats between rows 25
and 35 on Flight 105 please come to gate 28."

I smiled at Deidre. "It would be a pleasure, but,.... well I'm
not sure I should. I think you know what I mean."

Deidre smiled slightly as she indicated she understood what I was
alluding to. "I'm certain there won't be a problem as you put it.
If I can't trust you with my son, who can I trust? Besides, after
what happened last year, he's going to be a hell of a lot safer
with you than up at Wilford with me."

"Safer with me? You really think that?" I asked curiously.

"What's the problem, Mom?" Skye interjected.

Deidre shrugged. "There isn't a problem, Skye. At least not what
I would call a problem. I don't think you'd call it a problem
either."

"Deidre?" I began.

She gave me a deprecating look. "A few weeks? That's all I
asking, Alex."

"Deidre," I began earnestly. "I really don't know where I'm going
to be in a few weeks."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's more than what you think. I've been giving a lot of thought
to quitting the company. I'm tired of the hassles. I've made more
money than I'll ever be able to spend in the next two lifetimes,"
I said.

Deidre regarded me with something akin to shock. "What? What on
earth are you talking about? Heavens, you're only thirty seven
and you're talking about retiring? What are you going to do with
yourself?"

I smiled. "For the last few years I've worked sixty hours or more
a week. I don't plan to die at fifty."

"You're thinking about what's-his-name?"

"Luke Robinson," I offered.

"You are, aren't you?"

I shrugged. Certainly Luke's sudden death had been on my mind the
last few weeks, but I had been thinking about an alternative line
of work for several months.

"Not particularly, Deidre. I miss him, that's for sure. He was
one of my best friends. I was thinking of trying my hand at
something else."

"Who? You mean get out of directing? That's somewhat out of
character for you, isn't it Alex?" Deidre said cynically. "Where
would you park your Beemer? Or do you plan to just retire to the
golf course?"

I shrugged. "Maybe I'd like to see what I can do with my life,
Deidre. I could probably do something else if I put my mind to
it. There isn't much satisfaction making low budget shit every
day."

"Come on! Now you're exaggerating. Sure, you might not have be
getting this year's Academy Award for Best Picture, but it's
certainly not shit, as you call it."

"Maybe, but it's still low budget. Only the words and actors
change."

Deidre looked at Skye and smiled back at me. "Why don't you come
to Wilford this summer. I'm sure I could swing it. You could
write that book you were always talking about. You could try your
hand at directing a play. You could really achieve something too,
Alex,... if you wanted to."

"I don't think Robert would like that idea at all," I taunted.
"Besides, I thought you were worried about Skye's welfare," I
suggested lightly. "Promiscuous gays and a ten-year- old boy and
all that? It sounds like you had better keep both eyes and a
leash on him all the time."

"Promiscuous gays? Hardly, Alex! You should know better than that
living in California. Most of them aren't like that at all.
They're really very nice. In fact, it's a very complex group.
They're good people, even if some of their attitudes are a bit
unusual."

Skye grinned cheekily. "They're more than unusual, Mom. They're
downright weird."

Deidre raised an eyebrow at her son, threatening rebuke as she
turned slightly in her seat to see if anyone was close enough to
hear what she said, and then leaned closer to me.

"Just between us, last summer two of the men,... well, they
practically courted Skye. There was one in particular, a man
whose name you'd recognize if I told you. He's very rich.
Considering who it was,... well, it would be quite an honor for
any boy if,... Well I'm sure you know what I mean. They're very
open about sex up there. No one would have cared."

I gazed at Deidre and Skye, oblivious to everything and everyone
around me. "What? I don't believe what you just said," I said
loudly.

"Don't be so surprised, Alex. We both know that pederasty has a
long tradition. Men with young boys is hardly new. It's been
accepted by a lot of people in the arts for a long while. You
should know that from living in LA. Hollywood is full of them."

"So?" I asked uncomfortably. "For Heaven's sake, Deirdre, he's
barely ten years old."

"That's why they call it boy-love. If he was fifteen or sixteen
he wouldn't be a boy, now would he? Anyway, by the time a boy is
Skye's age, if he's interested in it, there's no reason why he
shouldn't be interested in doing something about it."

"Like practice his jerk-off technique with a friend?" I said
sarcastically.

"Do you have a problem with that? How old was Paul?"

"Do you have to keep bringing that up? It would be nice if the
boy was mature, at least."

She shrugged. "We both know what's involved. He doesn't have to
be capable of doing anything other than reciprocating."

I glared at Deidre and considered whether her meaning was the
same as my interpretation. I had few doubts that Skye was
'interested', and deep down, even fewer qualms if he chose to do
something about it. Some boys were born 'gay'. I would have been
blind not to have seen that when he was on stage. Other people
certainly noticed. But was he really capable of 'reciprocating'
at ten years old? A willing participation seemed very unlikely,
although from his outward appearance it would not be too long
before he was 'interested in doing something about it'.

"Look Deirdre, I know there are people around who don't have the
same hang-ups as the politicians who try to run the country, but
it's still against the law. You're talking about the sexual abuse
of a minor. That's serious jail time."

"Frankly, that's not an issue for me. I'm not surprised Skye drew
some interest from them. I think you know why as well as I do,"
Deirdre continued unabated.

The word that came closest to describing Skye was 'sexy', but he
was not sexy in the way the opposite sex would necessarily find
desirable. By the standards of most members of his own sex, he
had a real problem. However, for some men he would be very
special. Skye smirked and blushed, obviously remembering the
previous summer with some accuracy, if not outright enjoyment at
the attention he had received. But then, show me any extroverted
about-to-be-gay boy who doesn't like being the center of
attention. Deidre laughed.

"What's so funny?" I asked without humor.

"Well, it was funny at times. The one man actually asked me if
Skye had feelings for him. He wanted me to know he had strong
feelings for Skye. Strong feelings for a nine-year-old boy, can
you believe it?"

"Mom," Skye interjected shamefully. "You said you weren't going
to tell anyone."

"Okay, but Alex really doesn't mind, I'm sure. He's very
understanding. Aren't you, Alex? I think it goes with living in
California. Anyway it's nothing to be ashamed about."

"Ashamed about what?" I asked uncertainly.

"Having someone who's sexually interested in you!"

"Mom!"

"Don't be silly, Skye. You were flirting with him too."

"Okay!" I interjected. "I think I get the picture. So what about
this summer?" I groped.

"It's actually one of the reasons why I'm going back."

"To work with a bunch of gay wanna-be actors, some of whom chase
after your son?" I joked.

"No, not that," Deidre laughed. "It's true almost all of the men
up there are queer, and the women make no secret that most of
them are lesbians. One or two of them are beautiful, I mean
really beautiful, but Robert would have a stroke if I did
anything with one of them. No, I'm going back because they really
are talented and I get a kick out of being around them."

"And what about Skye?" I asked.

Deidre grinned gleefully. "Why, I thought you would have figured
it out by now, Alex. That's where you come in," she replied.

I took a deep breath and tried to reason that I was jumping to
conclusions. "Me? How?"

"After you take him to Florida, I guess I'd like you to spend the
rest of the summer with him. After all, you may not be his step-
father, but you know, you're still his legal guardian."

Before I could say anything the loudspeaker announced the final
boarding call for Flight 105. I nodded weakly and promised to
call her from the hotel with my decision.



Room 262 Worldview Hotel, Orlando. June 10th, 2000.



While Skye was in the shower I glanced through the dozen
brochures that he had picked up when I was checking in. From what
I could see, even if a person was not into waiting in long lines
for thirty-second rides, there was still a lot to do and see.
Although it was all very similar and reeking of artificial
amusement, some of even looked like it might be fun. As I thumbed
through the glossy folders, I wondered whether the children of
today could exist without having every second of their
entertainment planned out and orchestrated for them.
Disinterested in deciding the next day's act activities without
Skye's company, for if the truth be told he was the entire source
of my entertainment in this place dedicated to entertainment, I
used the remote to turn on the television.

The god-damn Mouse was everywhere, it seemed. After the fifth, or
was it the sixth channel of 'Mouse', I said 'fuck' under my
breath and resorted to looking at the brochures so generously
provided by the MOUSE Company. Just about everything was
decorated with un-mouse-like ears and whippet tail. It was not
enough that Mickey's likeness was plastered on the magnetic entry
card for the door, the soap, even the two tiny bottles of
shampoo. Of forty cable programs on the television, the Mouse and
his affiliated enterprises appeared to dominate more than half,
and the rest weren't worth watching. Talk about a captive
audience. I began to wonder how I would survive four days and
five nights without losing my sanity.

The noise from the shower and drowned out much of the sound of
the tv and I sat back on the bed and contemplated my predicament.
I was bored. I even gave some thought to closing the door to the
bathroom, reasoning that there might be enough time to jack off
before Skye finished if I didn't postpone my climax
unnecessarily. It would be the first time in a long time when I
had not ejaculated at least once during a 24-hour period. The
alternative was to wait for my turn in the shower. After flying
from LA, meeting Skye at the airport, the flight to Orlando, and
a bus ride that took twenty minutes less than the wait at the
check-in counter of the hotel, I needed to relax. Masturbation
would be anything but arousing when all I would hear was the
Mouse advertising the attractions of the park or announcing what
was on the other cable tv stations he controlled. It was one vast
sexless monopoly, an insidious conspiracy that competed with the
gross national products of medium-sized third-world countries.

Without reason I caught myself thinking about Skye. He was in the
shower and probably soaped up by now. The thought of disrupting
his hot-water relaxation was suddenly enticing. I thought of him
nude. He would be naked as the day he was born. I remembered him,
pink, screeching, and to my eyes at the time, a thoroughly
unattractive proposition. Yet, shortly after he came into the
world, I began to discover how much I loved him. How quickly
things had changed, I mused. The baby became a pretty toddler,
became an exceedingly beautiful boy. Now, as in the past, I saw
myself in him, even though there was no genetic link between us.
He was curious at the same time that he was estranged, seemingly
at odds with the world around him until he discovered who and
what he was.

Skye was talented. God, was he talented. Each time I visited I
looked forward to Skye's singing. His singing was exceptional,
made even more enjoyable by his perfect pitch and sense of
rhythm. With his movement skills he projected a dynamo that
continually made me think of Michael Jackson at the same age.
Skye's natural ability often gave me cause to wonder whether he
would pursue a career in show business.

Again, I smiled as the idea of seeing him naked in the shower
came to me. Despite the fact that to date he had shown no sign of
interest in sex, since his performance in the school show I often
caught myself thinking he was very sexy. No, not just very sexy.
That was an understatement. He was incredibly sexy. His
performance had been erotic at the same time it was innocent. I
queried my motives and tried to fathom the cause of my
conclusion. It was illogical, given my inclinations to teenage
youths. Skye was a boy, a ten-year-old boy with a hairless little
dick and tiny balls. It was as unreasonable as my desire to
interrupt his shower.

Then, I realized I had erection. I wondered when and why I had
suddenly become interested in his body. Without warning I found
myself hoping that he might be engaged in the pastime of the
pubescent boy, the age-old pursuit of self abuse? Again I smiled.
Skye was a long way from being pubescent at ten years old.
However, it was possible that he had already discovered how to
make his little hand go up and down on that still immature part
of his anatomy. An interesting thought, almost interesting enough
to lure me to my feet and go into the bathroom for a quick look.
The need to urinate would provide the explanation of my visit to
the bathroom. Believable, except that I had eliminated the
necessity only few minutes before Skye went in for his shower. A
pity, I decided. Next time, I promised myself to think first
before pissing.

Did Skye know the basic techniques for self abuse I continued to
wonder with amusement? I smiled, deciding that it was more than
likely given my own natural passion for masturbating. And then,
without warning, I again remembered the conclusion that was
reached by the stranger at the fifth grade performance. Skye was
gay. Suddenly it seemed illogical that he would not be doing it
in the shower.

I closed my eyes and began to imagine him masturbating,
inexpertly of course, with the unskilled hand of a ten-year-old
boy. Definitely no more than a two fingers and thumb job, and it
would still be overkill. He was still too young to really get
off, yet his penis was big enough to give him all the pleasure he
needed at his age. I thought of his little uncircumcised morsel,
straining erect, glans bulging and reddened from the hot water.
Despite my opinion at the time, and medical claims of improved
hygiene, his mother had prevailed in the decision not to
circumcise him.

The absence of noise from the running shower entered my
consciousness as Skye walked into the bedroom. A towel was
wrapped around his waist as if he had something to hide from me.
He was still spotted with water where the towel did not cover
him. He was not skinny, yet he was certainly a long way from
being fat. To my appreciative eye, he was beautifully
proportioned. There was just the slightest hint of puppy fat on
his chest, the curves of his ribs and belly muscles clearly
visible, yet not pronounced like a malnourished waif from a third
world country. Nor was he well muscled, although he was certainly
physically fit from attending his jazz-dance class. What I could
see of his body was pale and unblemished, white and smooth like a
polished marble statue in a museum.

I watched him cross the room, moving with such exceptional grace
that it made me think his feet were not actually touching the
floor. I found myself silently fantasizing about the part of him
I could not see. I expected I would get the chance if I played my
cards right. During four days and five nights there would have to
be at least one opportunity to feast my eyes on his nakedness and
revive the memories I had retained from before the divorce. Life
wasn't that unfair.

"How's the shower, babe?" I asked as I enjoyed the sight of
partially bare boy flesh.

"Okay."

Skye sat back on the other bed, the one nearest the bathroom. He
kept the towel wrapped around him and he pulled his legs up so
that he was comfortable. Without saying more, he began to watch
the television with the mindless attention of his generation. No
wonder he still had some puppy fat, I thought critically. He
needed outdoor exercise, and while his dance instructor probably
worked him out one or twice a week, it was not enough to
compensate for a sedentary lifestyle.

"What do you want to do tomorrow?" I asked, still watching him
with furtive interest.

Skye shrugged. "Anything's cool." He paused. "I'm just glad to be
here with you."

"Me two. I'm glad that you decided to come," I laughed. "It
wouldn't be much fun by myself. I think you have to be a kid, or
be with a kid to really appreciate this place."

Again Skye shrugged disinterestedly. "I could never have a good
time here by myself," I added truthfully. I paused, very aware of
the truth of what I was about to add. "I really like being with
you. I miss you a lot."

Clearly he was disturbed by what I had said. "Well, I'm here, so
you can have a good time, can't you Dad?" he replied flatly and
without emotion.

I gazed at him and he stared at the television. He was nearly a
stranger to me and the distance between us seemed to be
increasing every time I tried to talk to him. I sensed that he
knew I was watching him and he was ignoring me because of it. He
wanted me to go away so that he did not have to deal with me or
engage in meaningful conversation. For the last three, nearly
four years I had avoided my responsibility as the only father he
had ever known. It hurt me to see him living in Robert's house. I
wondered what his relationship was like with his step-father. Not
very good I suspected.

"I guess I better go take a shower too," I grumbled. "Otherwise
you'll complain about the smell I expect."

Skye gave me a wry smile and did not reply. I eased off the bed,
cheated of the chance to see him change into his pajamas. There
would be other chances, when we went swimming, when he woke up,
when he changed his clothes, when he used the bathroom, whenever.
I had four days, and after tonight, four more nights. In fact,
the entire summer awaited us.

Having lived by myself for the best part of four years, I was
unprepared for bathroom chaos. It was impossible that one ten-
year-old boy could get three towels wet and create a puddle on
the floor that stretched from the tub all the way to the door.
Luckily there was one nearly dry towel left, or at least one
towel that had not joined the tangled mess on the tiles. The
toilet water was the color of pale chardonnay. Apparently ten-
year-old boys did not bother to flush. And not only did they fail
to remove their urinary waste, it appeared that their aim also
left a lot to be desired. I sighed as I wiped the splatters from
the toilet seat, feeling slightly disgusted and even a bit
sympathetic for the people he lived with. Skye would require
either a lot of discipline or a lot of getting used to, and it
would take a lot more time than a mere four days. I considered
dragging him in from the bedroom and making him clean up his
mess. Then, as I thought about the distance between us, I
rejected the notion. For now at least, I would put up with his
untidy habits.

I undressed, placing my clothes on the driest section of the
vanity. With a towel sandwiched under my foot, I mopped up the
floor before turning on the shower. It was only on a hunch did I
check inside the shower to ascertain whether I needed more
shampoo. A plastic bottle lay in the bottom of the bath. The cap
was off and a yellow stain ran towards the drain. I did not need
to examine it to know that the amount of shampoo left inside was
insufficient to shampoo even the hairless Mouse. I searched the
vanity twice while the shower continued to run. There had been
two bottles of complimentary shampoo there the first time I had
used the bathroom. That was before Skye had showered. It was
improbable that he had used both bottles, particularly when there
was no sign of the missing bottle.

I lifted all my clothes to check underneath for the missing
bottle, feeling increasingly cold and angry while I searched.
Without giving more than a moment's thought to it, and oblivious
to my nudity I stalked out of the bathroom to confront Skye with
his heinous crime. Had I turned off the shower, he would have
been warned enough to stop what he was doing. He would have had
time to cover himself, perhaps even to pretend he was doing
something else. As it was, I caught him in the act. Skye was a
long way beyond the basic techniques of self abuse if the finger
inserted three-quarters of the way into his anus was anything to
judge by!

Perhaps it was only to be expected. I could not remember how old
I was when I discovered masturbation, although I expected I was
close to twelve years old. It was several years later when I
discovered the added pleasure of rectal stimulation. Perhaps boys
of Skye's generation started earlier and experimented more.
Whatever the cause, he had certainly learned how to extract the
greatest possible pleasure from playing with himself. His eyes
were closed to slits, his mouth open as he breathed in quick
gasps. He lay on his back, one leg bent at the knee and pulled up
tightly against his chest, the other stretched out on the bed.
His position naturally parted his buttocks and exposed the source
of part of his pleasure. He masturbated a small, yet very stiff
penis with erratic jerks of his right hand. At the same time, he
slowly pushed two of his fingers into his anus as far as he could
reach. My mouth opened and I gazed in shock and fascination that
a ten-year-old boy was capable satisfying himself in that way.
His narrow pelvis twisted and followed a natural motion of its
own. His rhythm became faster, taking control only momentarily
when the pace slowed, then yielding again to erratic jabbing. His
trembling arms and legs jerked, his face contorted, a gasping
urgency ran through him and changed to shuddering spasms.

For several seconds he did not realize that I was watching him
experience the throes of orgasm. For those few precious seconds I
observed his ecstatic joy, abandoned in his private world,
deriving shameless euphoria from finger-fucking his own ass. No
less surprising, he jacked an absolutely hairless penis with the
aptitude of a teenager. He knew exactly what he was doing, and
what he needed to do to extract sensations from a body that under
normal circumstances should have been innocent of such feelings.
My mouth stayed open. I was lost for words. He groaned when he
twisted his finger around, pulled it back, pushed it in even
further and harder than seemed humanly possible or prudent. He
jerked his buttocks with frantic thrusts, becoming almost violent
as he drew ever closer to the edge. His hips lifted up high into
the air and his body arched, straining hard. His hand was moving
with awe inspiring speed. If I did not know better I would have
sworn the prepubescent boy was only moments from ejaculation.
Perhaps he had already climaxed and was riding the wave of
euphoria.

The missing bottle of shampoo was lying beside him. Except that
it wasn't shampoo, it was body lotion, compliments of the MOUSE
Company. Further, from the apparent ease that he guided his
finger relentlessly back and forth within his tight orifice, he
knew exactly what to do with it besides putting it to a more
socially acceptable use. I stared at him, stunned that he was so
absorbed in what he was doing that he was unaware of my presence.
His other hand held his penis, but not the way one would expect
from a young boy. His fingers and thumb made a sheath with his
fingertips, enclosing his hard little organ at the base. He
attacked it with rapid jerks that had advanced far beyond
juvenile inexperience. He masturbated like a well-practiced
teenager. His erratic pumping motion was lubricated by a liberal
coating of the hand lotion applied to both front and back. His
rhythm was barely interrupted as his fingers suddenly pulled away
from his bottom and grasped the plastic bottle. Quickly he
brought it between his cheeks, replacing the void where his
fingers had been a moment earlier. He pushed both up and down at
the same time, straining anxiously and hurriedly. He forced it
through his anus, seemingly oblivious to any pain. It slid in
quickly, penetrating until only the tips of his fingers prevented
it from disappearing all together. It was perhaps an inch in
diameter and less than four inches long. It was about the size of
a typical ten-year-old boy's penis I thought irrationally, but it
still looked much bigger than Skye's small member. Without
warning he looked up and blanched when his eyes met mine. Terror
instantly supplanted the boy's overpowering joy.

"NO! NO! GET OUT!" Skye shrieked. "GET OUT!"

I backed away out of sight. My heart was pounding. In the space
of a few seconds I had witnessed his most intimate activity, an
unwelcome spectator to his secret pleasure. I hesitated,
listening to Skye's shameful sobs over the noise of the shower
behind me.

"Skye,..." I implored. "Skye, it's nothing to feel ashamed about.
Please Skye,.... please don't be upset. "

"GO AWAY! I HATE YOU!"

I sighed. The distance between us had suddenly become a chasm
that was as wide and hard to cross as any geographical separation
between people. I went into the bathroom and turned off the
shower. Through the cloud of steam I saw my reflection in the
mirror. I owed him my understanding and I had a responsibility to
him that was unavoidable. I walked slowly back to the bedroom,
accepting the undeniable truth of a stranger's observation
overheard in a high school auditorium.

"Skye," I began again, calmly. "It's okay!"

"Go away," he hissed, his face buried in his pillow. The towel
that had earlier covered his thighs and lower abdomen when he
came from his shower had been hastily pulled over his naked body.

"Can we talk for a moment?"

"I just want you to leave me alone," he sobbed. "I hate you, I
really hate you."

"Skye, what I said about it being nothing to be ashamed about,...
I meant it. There's nothing wrong with making yourself feel good.
It's your body. It's yours to enjoy."

"Go away, damn you."

"I'm sorry I surprised you, Skye. I really didn't mean to disturb
you. When I came out all I wanted to do was ask you if there was
any more shampoo," I said shaking my head. "If I'd known, well, I
would have respected your privacy."

"I hate you."

"I love you, Skye."

"You have a real funny way of showing it," he retorted grumpily.

"Skye, you have a right to be angry, but I wish you'd listen to
me."

"I'm listening. Say what you have to say and then leave me
alone."

I smiled. At least I had a chance to talk at last. I desperately
wanted to get it right the first time.

"Just about every boy plays with his dick at one time or another.
When I was a boy I did it too, you know Skye," I said quietly.
"It feels good and it's a very natural thing to do. It's also
perfectly normal to explore the rest of your body as well. You're
lucky. You've discovered how to make yourself feel good long
before most boys do. Touching your bottom is also nothing to be
ashamed about."

"I know what it is. I'm not stupid. It's dirty and disgusting."

"If that's the worst thing you do, then you're okay, Skye."

"It's bad to do it," he retorted adamantly.

"So is farting, but everyone does it," I countered. Skye
suppressed a giggle by grunting into the pillow. "What makes you
think it's bad,... or dirty and disgusting for that matter? Is it
because you poop from there?"

"No. He said it was evil. That's why!"

He? It wasn't hard to guess who he was. "Robert?" I inquired.
Skye nodded slightly. "He's an idiot, Skye," I replied. "Jesus!
There's absolutely nothing wrong with doing it. It's a butt. if
you want to and you enjoy it, then you should do it. It's no
different to playing with yourself in front."

"He said,..." Skye stopped. "He said playing with myself was
really bad. It'll make me sick if I do it!"

"That's an incredibly dumb thing to say. If that was true just
about every boy would be sick non-stop. Sex can't hurt you if
you're careful. Okay, so there are germs back there, but so long
as you wash your hands afterwards you'll be fine. And in front,
well it'll be a bit messy when you're older," I joked, "but,
other than rubbing until it gets sore, it's absolutely harmless."

"He didn't say that. He didn't say anything about germs," Skye
admitted between sobs. "He doesn't even know I put my finger in
there. He said if I play with myself,... I will be,..."

"You'll be what?"

"I won't be normal!" Skye's lips tightened and he hesitated
again. "Because it's what faggots do, that's why," he blurted
out. "That's what he said. He said it would make me gay."

I expected something like that to be the reason based just on the
few times I had met Robert. He was a Christian conservative, as
inflexible and overbearing in his opinions as a Jesuit priest.
Loving your fellow man apparently did not extend to homosexuals.
He had zero tolerance for anything other than white, middle-
class, conservative family values.

"Oh! He did? Well he's a much bigger idiot than I thought he
was."

"That's easy for you to say. He's not your stepfather!"

"It doesn't matter. People do things because they want to. You
get nice feelings from doing it, that's all. Playing with
yourself, front or back, won't make you gay, Skye. Trust me."

"Then why would he say that?"

"I already told you," I grinned. "He's an idiot. Joking aside,
he's probably afraid you'll like it and you won't want to stop.
In fact, in my opinion you'd be strange if you didn't like it," I
ventured. "Most boys will never know how nice it feels to do what
you were doing."

That provoked a slight another slight smile from Skye. He
regarded me curiously. Not many fathers openly discussed sex with
their sons, and even fewer endorsed a boy's intimate
explorations, especially through the back door. In my mind it was
part of growing up and discovering one's self.

"Can you tell me why were you doing it?"

"Because it feels good," Skye said simply. "You were right about
that!" He smiled slightly and breathed out slowly.

"Of course it feels good," I added. "Playing with yourself,
either in front or behind, is guaranteed to feel good," I
smiled." Actually it's is probably the nicest feeling there is.
No, not probably, definitely. It's a very special feeling."

"Why?"

"Why is it special?"

"Yeah. Why does it feel so good?"

I grinned, gleefully aware that Skye's shame was being replaced
by an infectious need to understand his feelings.

"You know what nerves are?"

Skye nodded and lifted his head away from the pillow. His cheeks
were still red and tear streaked, but at least he had stopped
crying. "I guess."

"If you put your finger in a flame it would hurt, wouldn't it?" I
asked. Again Skye nodded. "And if I tickled you under your arms,
more than likely you'd giggle."

"Yeah."

"Well, the reason is that nerves connect all the parts of your
body to places in your brain. Some places register pain while
others make you feel good. Think of your private places like your
dick and your butt, as having a big bunch of nerves that are
joined to a special place in your brain that likes to feel
especially good. Making that part feel good makes the rest of
your body feel nice as well. How does it feel by the way?"

"It feels funny."

"Funny?"

"It's strange. It's like I'm doing something that feels like it
will hurt me if I don't stop. Only I can't. It's like I'm going
to explode."

"That's the way it's supposed to be, Skye. If you do it for a
while the feelings become so good it makes you feel like you're
going to burst."

"That's exactly how it feels sometimes," Skye admitted shyly.

"When you're older white stuff will come shooting out of your
dick."

"Why?"

"Right now it doesn't matter. I'll tell you all you need to know.
However, trust me that's the best part. You'll have to wait a few
more years for that I expect, but it's worth the wait. Until then
you'll have to be content with the nice feelings."

He pursed his lips ready to say something. Instead, he regarded
me curiously. The gap between us had suddenly shrunk to
manageable proportions. I wanted to touch him, the physical
connection bridging the emotional gap.

"Will it make me gay?" he asked nervously.

"Touching those places makes you feel good, that's all. It will
not make you gay, Skye," I answered forcefully. "Despite what
some people might say, being gay isn't caused by playing with
yourself."

"I don't want to be gay."

"I don't think any boy really wants to be gay, Skye. It's
something you don't have a lot of say in. If you're genetically
set up that way, there's not much you can do about it."

"I guess,... Am I? Do you think I am?" he asked even more
nervously.

I smiled reassuringly, remembering the pretty boy on the stage.
He was in his natural element. The man sitting in front of me,
and probably many others in the audience, had seen the same
signs. Anyone who saw Skye that night had good cause to think if
not speak the obvious comment. I sighed inwardly, knowing how
accurate the comment had been and feeling a surge of resentment.
Skye would suffer if he followed a path different to the one his
step-father laid out for him. The man was inflexible and
demanding. I resented that I had allowed myself to be pushed out
of Skye's life. I could help him understand. In that instant, I
realized that my successful career accounted for nothing when I
lost the one person I truly loved.

"Does it matter what I think? You can't change the way you were
born. Besides, you're way too young for something like that to be
certain. You won't know if you're gay until you're a lot older."

"How old do you have to be?" Skye asked nervously.

I thought for a moment and considered saying that sometimes a gay
boy knew what he wanted when he was younger, even by Skye's age.
There was no point in telling him what him already knew, or what
he didn't need to know.

"Usually by the time you're in your mid teens it's usually pretty
clear what turns you on. For most boys it's girls of course, but
for some boys it's other boys." I don't know why I added the next
two words except that it seemed right under the circumstances,
"or men."

Skye sat up slowly, pulling the towel across him to make sure
that he was respectably covered at all times. I smiled again. He
seemed to know instinctively that at least for the present, he
needed to conceal himself from me.

"He hates gays, Dad."

"I'm not surprised."

Skye wiped his fingers against his cheeks, wiping away the drying
tears of his fading guilt. "He makes fun of people who might be
gay all the time. Like my music teacher, Mister McVue. He only
met him once and he calls him names. Do you know what he says? He
says 'Watch out for McVue or he'll catch you in the john.' And
when he drops me off at school, sometimes he asks if I'm wearing
clean underpants. I know what he means. Mom doesn't like him
saying things like that, but he still does. He does it all the
time, especially when I'm alone with him. And he calls me Wooz-
boy because I don't like sports all that much," Skye said sadly.
"I know he hates me. I hate him back!"

"Remember what I said about him being an idiot?" I joked. "You're
a beautiful, intelligent boy, Skye. I was so impressed at the
show. I couldn't believe how good you were. Everybody clapped
louder for you than any of the other acts."

Skye glared at me. "He didn't clap!"

I stared back at Skye, feeling my anger growing. Not much escaped
Skye.He was not merely precocious. He was highly intelligent.

"I watched him. Mom clapped almost as much as you did, but he
didn't, not once!"

"I'm sorry," I said regretfully. "I thought you were fantastic."

"I saw you clapping. You were louder than anyone else," Skye said
proudly.

I remembered how I clapped, thinking how much my hands would hurt
if I kept it up for much longer. I was his number one fan. He was
destined for great things.

"Skye, I want to ask you a question. You don't have to answer if
you don't want to, okay?" I said. I didn't wait for his answer.
"You said he told you it was dirty and disgusting, or something
like that. How did he come to say that to you?"

"There was a bottle of hand lotion under my bed. He didn't even
ask what it was for. He gave me a long lecture about playing with
myself."

"I can imagine. Did he say you'd go blind?"

"Huh?"

"Nothing. It's an old joke about masturbation," I replied wryly.
"It's a fact of life that boys jerk off. Skye, I did when I was a
boy, and all my friends did it too. I know you're embarassed and
all right now, but you shouldn't be. I don't want to make things
worse, but I think we should talk about this."

"I,..." He bit his lip.

"You don't have to if you don't want to. If you want we can
forget it totally."

Skye regarded me uncertainly. He swallowed and let out a long
sign. "I don't,... I don't want to be gay. I can't help it," he
murmured.

I nodded reassuringly. "It's okay, Skye, really it is. I mean it
when I say there's nothing to be ashamed about. What were you
using the hand lotion for?"

"Jesus, what do you think?"

I smiled. "Maybe you had rough hands?" I teased. Skye gave me an
exasperated look. "For the front or back?" I asked.

He shrugged ambiguously. I sensed his shame. The question did not
need to be answered. It would not have taken him very long to
realize that lubrication increased the sensations in either area.

"It's good that you've discovered what to do," I said gently.
"Without the lotion, your butt might get sore, although probably
not with just your finger in there." He avoided my gaze, again
answering my unspoken question. I decided to take the bull by the
horns.

"Of course, it's an even nicer feeling when you use something
bigger than your finger, Skye. Don't be ashamed of enjoying it."

"It's wrong, and not just because gays do it," he retorted
angrily. "It's bad."

I was not surprised. Skye had spent the last four years of his
life living in the same house as a Christian Fundamentalist. He
did not need to finish the sentence for me to understand the
reason behind his shame.

"Oh come on. Do you really believe God cares whether you stick
things up your butt?"

He watched me sullenly, his silence answering where he could not.
Finally, his answer came. "No!"

"You do, don't you?" I grinned at him. "That's why you're ashamed
of it. Trust me in this. There's nothing wrong with doing it. You
have to be a bit careful with what you use, but other than that,
it's okay."

Skye grunted in frustration. Months of internalized confusion was
coming to the surface. His fears, his guilt, his desires burst to
the surface like a breaching submarine. He nodded slowly,
silently acknowledging what he had known to be true from the
third grade.

"I'm gay. I know I am, Dad!"

"I don't how you can be so sure, Skye? Personally, I don't know
if you are or not. I don't mind either way, of course," I added
quickly.

"I,... I am. That's one thing I'm sure about!" he said softly.

"Yes, I know."

"Y-y-y-you kn-kn-know," he stammered almost incoherently. He took
a quick breath. "How? H-h-h,... How do you know?" he demanded.

I studied Skye's terrified face. How could I tell him it was
obvious to anyone who looked at him? Even though he was ten years
old, an age when a boy was more interested in toy cars and trains
than anything else, he had discovered his own 'anything else'.
What was worse, not only was he interested in his anatomy but he
had already begun to radiate his sexuality towards other males.
He was 'coming out'. The hair style, the ear ring, the gestures
were intended to arouse interest. He just did not realize it. I
shuddered inwardly.

"Because," I countered, trying to stall.

"Because of what I was doing just now?"

"Yes. That among other things."

Skye was silent. I waited. Nearly a minute passed. I thought he
would ask 'what other things'. he didn't. "How long?" I finally
asked.

"What?"

"How long have you been doing stuff?" I explained.

I readied myself for an answer I didn't want to hear. I really
didn't want him to tell me he had already had sex with other
boys, perhaps even with men. Under the circumstances it seemed
unlikely that he had not begun to experiment sexually with other
people. He stalled, visibly disturbed, but anxious to tell
someone.

"If I tell then you have to promise not to have a fit," he
demanded awkwardly.

"I won't. I want to help you," I added reassuringly.

I wondered what help I could provide to a frightened boy who had
embarked on a course that was calculated to lead to a lifetime of
social hatred.

"I've know about few years I guess," Skye began awkwardly. "I
remember starting just after he married Mom. I wanted you to come
back. I wanted things to be the way they were before you left. I
was so angry. Some nights I couldn't sleep so,..."

I nodded reassuringly, imagining his failing self esteem, anger
replacing affection, his urge becoming stronger as his curiosity
grew.

"At first I only did it in the bath. I used to rub the soap
around there first, so it was clean."

"And I guess it was a bit slippery?" I suggested lightheartedly.

Skye smiled. "That too. I liked how it felt, I guess. It felt
even nicer with my finger inside," he admitted.

"No kidding? Then after a while you started putting things in
there," I prompted.

He nodded, looking down shamefully as his secret was revealed. He
had forgotten how he made the transition from fingers to foreign
objects. It had happened quickly. First he experimented with the
soap bar. It was too big by far, but the feelings were strangely
better as soon as he tried to push it inside. Over a short period
of time he tried many other things, from tightly rolled toilet
paper, to a pencil, even the end of a spoon. As soon as he had
experienced orgasm, his experimentation went in different
directions. There was nothing too unusual if it filled the basic
criteria of size, shape, and surface. His technique advanced
rapidly when he discovered where he liked it most was just beyond
the reach of his finger. The objects needed to be rounded at the
end and at least four inches long. His tools of pleasure were
carefully selected for function, yet reflecting imagination and
an anatomical perspective that pursued ways to feel even better.
Slowly the size increased. Four inches eventually became five,
then six. The increase in thickness was even more dramatic. A
diameter of less than a quarter-of-an-inch quadrupled. His body
adjusted, still wanting more mass to achieve sensations that
always seemed just out of reach. The objects became even thicker.
It was like a competition he could not win. It did not matter
that sometimes he was sore afterwards, that occasionally there
was even streaks of blood, that the hand lotion he used left
greasy marks on his sheets and underpants. He could not stop. He
had given up trying to stop.

"I can't help it," he said guiltily. "I tried to stop a few
times. I can't."

I smiled reassuringly. "What else, besides this?" I asked as I
picked up the small plastic bottle from beside him.

"Other stuff,... you know things I find,... like I have this toy
hammer from when I was little. It came in a tool set. It was one
of the things you gave me for a birthday present when I was about
four or five."

I nodded vaguely, not remembering the gift but imagining its
size. The length and diameter of a plastic handle designed for
the small hands of a toddler would probably be more than ample
for his needs for several years to come. I smiled fondly. No
wonder the plastic bottle had gone into him with such apparent
ease. It was certainly no thicker than the handle of a toy
hammer, but it lacked the advantages of length and variation of
thickness. I decided to pursue the subject.

"And what else?"

Skye pursed his lips, resisting the impulse to tell all now that
he had started to unload his guilty load. Intuitively, I sensed
that what he was holding back had to be worth hearing.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't feel comfortable
about it," I suggested blandly.

Skye rolled his eyes in exasperation. My comments sounded like
the soft sell of a school counsellor and we both knew it. I
waited, knowing he would come around quickly. I was curious, and
excited. I was also trying to help him understand. He was full of
questions that he needed answers for, and I was the one person
who had the answers.

"You won't tell?"

"Hell, who am I going to tell? Your mom? Get real. It's really
none of her business. It's a private thing."

"But it's bad to do stuff with your butt," he said guiltily.

I regarded him seriously, considering whether 'stuff' was his way
of talking about having sex with someone else. Was Skye still a
virgin? Certainly, it was becoming increasingly doubtful. With
his exceptionally good looks there would more than a handful of
boys who would be attracted to him, and plenty of men too for
that matter. As I pondered the thought uppermost in my mind, I
decided to allay his guilt, even to press the issue and find out
exactly what 'stuff' he had been doing. As I phrased my thoughts,
I realized that it sounded a lot like a lecture.

"Sticking the occasional thing in your butt is nothing to be
ashamed about, Skye. What you do with your body is your
decision." I took a deep breath. "I want you to be clear about
one thing. No one else has the right to tell you not to something
that you enjoy and really doesn't hurt you. Do what you want with
your butt. If it doesn't affect anyone else, it's okay."

"What if it's not occasional?"

"As long as you don't injure yourself, I can't see that anyone is
really hurt by it. Just try to do it in private," I chided. "I
don't think Robert or your mom would be quite as understanding as
I am about it, so they probably shouldn't find out."

"What about sex?" he asked boldly.

I tensed. Skye was opening up to me as trust began to grow. He
sensed my uncritical acceptance. I was of two minds about the
answer I would give him. At that moment, he was almost sexless.
The fear and shame of discovery had made his penis retract
upwards into his groin so that it was only partially visible. It
was difficult to imagine him have sex with another male, man or
boy. It was impossible to imagine him having sex with a girl.

"What about sex?" I stalled. Did I really want to know whether
Skye had acted on his desires with another person?

"Sex! You know when two people do it!"

"Um, in what way?"

"The usual way, I guess."

"Do you know what gay guys do?"

"Dad, it's the end of the twentieth century, not 1960. Hell,
every boy in my class makes jokes about what gay guys do
together."

I grinned, slightly perturbed by his implied comment about my
age. "I guess that's the difference between growing up watching
the Simpson's compared to the Donna Reed Show."

"Huh? What's the Donna Reed Show?"

"Nothing. It isn't important." I thought for a second. That was
two points for Skye. "Have you?"

"Have I what?" Skye rejoined.

"Have you done it?"

"You mean,... sex stuff?" Skye asked awkwardly. "Kind of. I
haven't,... you know, done anything behind." He smiled slightly,
then glanced away. "At least not with someone else."

The concealed lie was obvious. Already, he had learned to tell
just enough of the truth to hide what he did not want to tell.

"What do you do to him?" I asked.

"I can't tell you. Just some stuff in front."

I nodded gently. "That's okay. I understand. Do you want to tell
me what you do when you're by yourself instead?"

"I told you already. Like,... when I jerk off, I like it,... with
my finger in there,..."

"Is that all?"

"Sometimes I do other stuff."

"Such as?" I persisted.

Skye breathed out heavily, a long frustrated sigh. "Mostly I just
do it with my fingers. Sometimes, like I said, I put other things
in my butt to make it feel even better. I can't help it. At first
I just did it a little bit at a time, but now I can't seem to
stop."

I smiled. Perhaps he was still a virgin in the only way that
counted for a boy. And if he wasn't, this was not the time for
him to tell me. Patience was a virtue in my business, and it took
all of my experience to be patient. In time he would tell me.

"It's okay Skye, really it is." The expression on his face was
still one of disbelief. I wondered whether I would be able to get
through to him, to break down the barriers that society threw up
for boys like Skye. "One day," I began reassuringly, "one day
when you're older, you'll meet someone who you really like.
You'll fall in love with him. You'll have sex with him, and
you'll be incredibly happy. But you have to learn to be patient
until you meet the right person." I took a deep breath. "Being
gay, Skye, well it's very different to being straight, apart from
the obvious fact that you have sex with guys. You have to be very
careful, especially with someone older."

"Because of AIDS?" he asked.

I nodded, grateful that he knew some of the dangers. "Partly
because of that. AIDS is a big problem but you could be hurt in
other ways as well."

How?"

"For one thing, when a man does it with a young boy like you, for
example, there's a good chance you'll be hurt."

"Why?" Skye asked nervously.

"Well for one thing, because your anus is very small compared to
the size of a man's penis, it might be torn. Even though it
sounds like you've been putting things that are fairly large in
there, you still have years to go before you try it."

"I kind of figured that out already for myself," Skye smirked.
"Sometimes there's a bit of blood that comes out."

"That's my point. If the man has AIDS, then if you bleed, it's
very likely you'll catch it. If he's using a condom it's a
different matter, but you could still be hurt by it."

"I knew that already from health class," Skye said confidently.

"And there's other reasons you have to be careful," I explained.
"I'm sure you know what people think about gays. You've probably
heard other boys at school talk about gays so you know what they
think about them."

Skye regarded me, visibly worried. "Yeah. I know. No one I know
likes them."

"I expect that's right, especially for boys your age. Mostly
because they don't understand, or don't want to understand. It's
a different way of living, and most people don't like that."

Skye nodded his head sagely, sucking on his lower lip. "It's the
same as racism. It's why white people don't like black people."

"More or less," I agreed. "And Arabs don't like Jewish people,
and so on and so on."

Skye nodded again. His breathing was very hesitant, leaving me
with the impression that he was close to tears. "I think I
understand. But,... well, I'm gay,... I want to know,... you
know,... what it's like to have sex."

"That's normal," I admitted. "It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"But how do I?"

"How do you what? How do two males have sex?"

"I know about that already. What I want to know is how do I find
out if I like it, you know, do that stuff without, you know,
doing it with a man?"

"Like I said, it's only natural to want to know. In time you will
find out what it's like," I said patiently. "There's no rush at
your age."

"I don't want to wait forever," Skye replied bitterly.

I laughed. "Maybe you should try it with a boy your own age
first. That's how most boys start. Eventually you'll do it with
someone older."

"Eventually?" Skye repeated with a slow sigh.

I nodded. Still thinking about what I had seen, I reached for the
telephone to call Deirdre with my decision about keeping Skye
with me for the rest of the summer. I hesitated after I had
punched in the first few numbers. Even after this, I had no
reservation in agreeing to keep him for the next two months.
Indeed, I realized that I was relishing the opportunity to be
with him.

"You have to be patient, Skye. When the time does come, you'll
have to be very careful. In the mean time, I want you to know
that it's okay to put things in your butt if you want to." I
reached over. Playfully I ruffled his hair. "But right now, it's
bedtime, Skye. You have a long day tomorrow. We'll spend the
morning at the pool before we go to the Park. We'll go to the
International Park. I have to be at a lunch meeting at the French
Pavilion. It'll take a few hours in the afternoon. I expect you
can hang out by yourself and keep out of trouble for a while.
Then we'll be together until closing time."





Mouse World. International Park. 1.00 pm. June 11th, 2000.



Martin studied the boy as surreptitiously as he could given the
circumstances. It wasn't too difficult. In fact, it was easy,
very easy. It was always easy if a man knew what to do. The boy
he was interested in stood out like the proverbial sore thumb.
The boy with the punk hairdo was on the other side of the arcade,
some twenty or thirty feet away, and despite how much Martin
wanted him to come closer, he seldom drifted much closer as he
browsed the game arcade. Martin thought he was ten years old, at
most, and probably younger given his under-developed stature. The
boy was beyond merely being 'cute'. He was exceptionally good
looking. He had 'movie-star' appeal, the same qualities that made
a boy like Aaron Carter attractive to young and old of both
sexes. However it was more than mere appearance, for the boy also
had another quality. In the man's lexicon, the boy was 'hot',
unspoken thoughts that did not apply to any of two dozen boys in
the arcade that day.

Martin pressed forward into the machine. Unseen, and camouflaged
by his loose, casual clothes, he reached for his crotch to
rearrange his slowly stiffening penis so that it could life
upwards behind his silk boxers and reach against his lower belly.
That way he could rub himself against the machine when he wanted.
He watched with frequent and admiring glances.

The boy ambled closer to a group of older boys playing a survival
game with digital creatures and simulated lasers that screeched
with every shot. They were young teenagers, all of them a head or
more higher than the boy who held Martin's interest. The young
boy lingered there for several minutes, watching one of them rack
up a high score much to the chagrin of his companions. They
ignored him. Unable to get their attention, he finally walked
away to make another circuit of the arcade. This time he passed
within a few feet of his admirer.

Martin could not help but whistle under his breath when he saw
the boy up close. In Martin's limited vocabulary, he was suddenly
so far beyond 'cute' it took his breath away. The boy wasn't just
handsome or good-looking. He was 'drop-dead gorgeous'. It was all
the man could think of to describe the boy who he now realized
was very beautiful.

He had finely sculpted features, a small pert nose, and a pretty
mouth that seemed to say 'kiss me, Martin'. His big sombre eyes
held Martin's gaze for several seconds before he quickly, almost
guiltily looked away. A moment later, they made eye contact
again. This time it was a lingering glance. The boy's eyes
flickered and his head turned away again. The show of uncertain
interest made Martin smile slightly. The boy had the 'fag-look',
Martin had decided the instant he first saw him. His first
impressions were confirmed. The boy's hair was naturally straight
and light-colored, but it was strangely styled, even for the game
arcade. It looked just right. The ridge of the boy's hair
consisted of short red-blue-hued spikes tinted with a fading
purple dye down the center. It was much longer and streaked with
blond-brown at the back. It was shorter on the sides so that it
had the appearance of bristles.

Maybe the boy had been blond when he was younger, Martin mused,
or perhaps he was still blond under the dye. He liked boys with
blond hair and blue eyes. They looked very innocent on the
surface, but from Martin's experience, they were no different to
other boys underneath. They were just as horny as other boys when
they became excited. Side on, Martin's first impressions were
further confirmed by two small coils of curling hair, one on
either side of the boy's slender neck. They reached to his
shoulders, one falling behind, the other in front. The glittering
stud in the boy's small right ear was enough to cause Martin to
fantasize about licking it with his tongue. It provided still
more support for his untested hypothesis. It even looked like a
diamond. He had always wanted to give a boy a diamond stud for
services rendered, but he was barely able to pay the rent on his
trailer. Everything about the boy excited him and made his heart
beat faster.

However, the man's adrenaline surge was caused by factors beyond
appearance. The boy possessed an aura that demanded his
attention. He radiated energy that seemed to make the air vibrate
around him. It seemed to Martin that there was a wonderful scent
rising from the slender body, the smell of youth becoming musky,
a smell tinged not only with childish sweetness, but sweat and
feces. It was the smell that came after sex. He wanted to ravish
the boy's smooth skin, suck on his tender lips, grind his
genitals in the silky hairless skin of the boy's small crotch.

"He's hot," Martin murmured to himself. "He's so fuckin' hot, I
can't stand it." He never swore except when he was sexually
excited.

The boy was agile in his movements, emphasizing his slight build
and natural elegance. Like a seasoned stage performer, he had
'presence'. He sauntered with a carefree attitude, apparently at
ease with the raucous world around him while always standing
apart from it. Martin guessed that even with shoes on, he was
several inches under five feet and weighed less than eighty
pounds. He wore a dark-green tee shirt advertising Heiniken Beer
that was several sizes too big for him. Even the tee shirt
conveyed a roguish quality that seemed to be entirely in
character. His cut-off-at-the knees denim shorts were marked with
juvenile printing and crudely crafted drawings. The crotch was
paler than the surrounding denim, vaguely hinting that it had
seen more wear and tear than the rest of the shorts. They were
loose-fitting and gave nothing away except that they had once
been expensive-label jeans, an impression reinforced by white
Nike Air-sneakers. Despite the fashionable 'grunge', the pre-teen
looked and acted very differently to the other boys who
frequented the game arcade. It was only after he saw the boy's
perfect teeth that Martin had no doubts that the brilliant
sparkle in the lobe of his ear came from a real diamond. His
excitement surged. The boy's mouth opened slightly, his pink
tongue pressed forward and daintily swiped his upper lip. To
Martin, the gesture was intentional and distinctly arousing.

During those next few seconds, something in Martin's demeanor
caught the boy's attention and his head swivelled around again to
glance back at the well-dressed man one more time. This time,
Martin smiled and returned his gaze with a deliberate, yet very
appreciative stare. He was nearly forty, yet his dark sun tan and
fashionably styled haircut made him appear years younger. Man and
boy shared that look of mutual interest for what seemed to be a
very long time, but in reality was only a few seconds. It was a
look that said everything that needed to be said. During that
momentary meeting of minds, Martin mentally undressed the curious
boy. In awe, he filled in the details of an imagined nude body
with a practiced eye and many years of experience. His eyes
glanced briefly away, dropping to the boy's groin and hovered
there just for an instant. There wasn't much to indicate gender
behind his shorts. He could easily pass for a girl. Martin
considered that possibility with distaste. He was personally
proud that he had never 'done it with a cunt'. Not that there was
a shortage in his business. There were any number of young women
who would have leaped for a chance to get into his bed.

He deliberately rubbed his thumb against his first finger, the
often exchanged signal for advertising the opportunity to receive
money for intercourse. Sometimes it worked. All the while, he
continued to hold the boy's curious gaze.

Even if the gesture was not understood, the intensity of his look
was enough to make the boy uncomfortable. He scowled, turned away
quickly, and continued on his way.

"Good move, you fucking idiot. Now you scared him off," Martin
thought. "God, he's certainly beautiful, though. I'd like to get
him in bed. I'd stick more than a few inches into his boy- ass
before I was done with him. I bet he has a tight little ass too,
but he wouldn't be tight for very long, not after the first time
a man has cummed in his guts."

For a few seconds after the boy departed, Martin considered
leaving his half-finished game and following him around the
arcade like a hungry dog lapping at his fleeting heels. Like a
dog, he was in heat. Once the urge had formed, there was little
he could do to stop it. After a one-month hiatus, he needed some
'boy-ass' badly. This time, Martin smiled self-consciously and
resisted the temptation. The child's parents or friends had to be
somewhere in the vicinity. This was neither the time nor place
for what he wanted to do with the boy, but if could get him
alone. Martin pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind and
went back to concentrating on his virtual Formula One race. With
five laps to go, he was still in third place, and closing rapidly
on the leaders. However, his interest in the game had been
shattered, vanished like the punk-haired gamin.

He spun out on the last lap after taking the S-bends at thirty
miles an hour faster than appropriate. The virtual car slammed
into the virtual barricade, burst into virtual flames, and the
screen went black.

A quick glance at his watch told Martin it was well past time for
lunch. He glanced around the arcade quickly, wondering where the
boy had gone to. There was no sign of him. It seemed that he had
missed yet another opportunity.

Outside the arcade, the afternoon traffic had become a steady
flow of people walking up and down Main Street. The food stores
on either side of the game arcade had little to interest him,
certainly there was nothing nearby serving alcohol. A drink
required going into a restaurant. That was the only problem with
Mouse World, Martin decided, that and the artificiality of it
all. He settled for a couple of chocolate chip Mouse-cookies and
a lukewarm cup of Mouse-coffee. He found a seat beside a fountain
and sat with his back to it, with his legs propped up on the
adjoining chair. He liked to eat and watch the passing parade.
Like every moment he was awake, Martin was always on the lookout
for an attractive boy.

Nearly ten minutes passed before Martin saw him again. The boy
was wandering aimlessly from store to store, pausing to look in
the windows, entering briefly if he was interested in what he
saw. In the early afternoon sunshine, the boy was stunning.
Martin half-closed his eyes, still watching while focusing his
thoughts. If sheer will power could accomplish what he wanted,
his fantasies would be realized.

Slowly, almost inevitably, the strikingly handsome boy approached
the fountain. He moved elegantly, his long slender legs reminding
Martin of a deer in the woods, ever ready to take flight. He
lingered at the other side of the fountain, looking around,
slowly appearing to become braver. Every few seconds he glanced
around him, evoking the sense that he was looking for someone,
waiting for someone to meet him, trying to make up his mind. His
eyes passed over Martin, came back, paused, went away again. For
a moment his attention was diverted by people waiting in line to
buy food, unbelievably disgusting turkey legs that dripped brown
sauce. Martin heard the buzzing voices of other people in his
ears, increasingly distant. There was just him and the BOY.

There was much stronger light that in the game arcade and from
where he sat, Martin saw that the boy had an intelligent face,
despite his attempt to appear punk. The boy's eyes quickly
flickered back, away, back again, providing nothing more than
glimpses. Momentarily, they looked directly at each other.
Martin's unwavering gaze had been enough to make the boy feel
uncomfortable again. Martin smiled slightly and the boy
immediately glanced away. However, his eyes quickly returned. Now
Martin knew the youngster was interested. His heart beat faster.
Like a wild animal, he enjoyed the hunt nearly as much as
devouring his prey.

The boy sauntered a few paces, turned around, hesitated, took a
slow deep breath, cautiously lifted his head, and exchanged a
meaningful look. He focused with unblinking eyes. His confidence
appeared to build with every second. Martin smiled again, his
eyes never leaving the boy's deliberate gaze. Finally, Martin
nodded once, barely moving his head. He felt his heart begin to
beat even faster as it responded to a massive surge of
excitement, knowing the familiar sense of triumph. He had no
qualms when it came to taking advantage of a willing victim.

The boy hesitated, breathed out slowly, began to walk. He
followed an unwavering line towards the men's bathroom that was
almost out of sight behind a landscaped garden. Martin smirked
and breathed a sigh of relief. This was too easy. He stood up and
glanced quickly around the sun-filled courtyard. No one was
watching. He trailed his ten-year-old victim to a his rendezvous
with destiny.

The boy was already standing at the urinal when Martin came past
the privacy partition. His head was bent forward, eyes studying
the task at hand. Martin paused, studying the boy from behind.
Now, his heart was pounding. Martin started to walk towards him,
his attention partially diverted until he was certain that the
cubicles were unoccupied. They were alone. He breathed out with
relief, even though he realized that some one could come in at
any moment. He relished the threat of discovery. He stopped
beside the boy and stepped close to the adjoining urinal. A
sideways, downward glance revealed nothing, and left him
wondering whether the boy even had his penis out. Perhaps he had
already finished urinating and closed his zipper. Perhaps he
never intended to start. Martin quivered with excitement and felt
gooseflesh. He took a fresh breath deeply into his lungs, licking
his lips while he studied the chrome-plated flush-fitting at the
top of the white porcelain.

"If you were a hairless little boy, you'd be right at the top of
my list," Martin said softly.

The boy froze. "Huh?"

"You heard me." Martin waited. It seemed as if he could hear his
heart thumping. "Are you?"

Seconds passed. "Am I what?" Frozen in place, the beautiful boy
inhaled the last word.

"Are you a hairless little boy? Have you got any hair down
there?"

"Huh?" Breathing out.

"I bet you are hairless. I bet you don't have even one tiny hair
anywhere near your cute little dick. You don't, do you? You want
to show me?" Martin added. "Prove you're hairless, and you'll be
right on the top of my list."

The boy swallowed. "You mean,... You want me to show you,... down
there?"

"I like my boys without any hair," Martin smirked. "Except on
their heads."

"You're a fag!" the boy proclaimed heatedly, but not loudly.

Martin grinned. He was not about to deny what was patently
obvious. Instead, he articulated his response with cruel
enjoyment.

"You think I'm a fag? Talk about the pot calling the kettle
black. I'm not a fag, at least not if you mean I like men to fuck
me in the ass."

He watched the boy carefully. The pre-teen appeared to be
nervous, but whether it was from fear or excitement, it was
impossible to tell. He seemed to tremble, finding each word said
to him more thrilling than the last. He was very nervous. Martin
followed his instinct, and instinct told him the boy was his for
the taking. With his dyed hair and gold ear ring, the boy even
looked like he had come out of the closet. Perhaps he had even
had homosexual experiences already. That would make things
interesting, although it would remove the thrill of taking his
virginity. Martin preferred virgins. There was something about
taking a boy's innocence, about showing him the difference
between pain and pleasure was a simple matter of how far, how
hard, and how fast he was fucked. Taking a boy's virginity gave
Martin a thrill like no other. He enjoyed sending a boy back to
his loving parents with a nagging urge that could only be
satisfied when a man's penis was inside him. There had been lots
of boys before this one, and a good many of them had been
virgins. From appearances, it was possible that the boy would be
a willing victim, and that excited Martin even more.

"You know what I really like? I'm not a fag but what I really
like are fag-boys! Hairless little fag-boys, that is," Martin
added and raised an eyebrow with a suggestive leer. "And do you
know what I really like more than anything else?"

The boy moved his head slightly. It was just enough to show that
he was interested in hearing more.

Martin smiled. "What I like are fag-boys who have tiny cocks," he
teased. he watched the boy's reaction. It was exactly what he
expected. The boy cringed.

"I bet you have a nice little cock, don't you? Maybe I ought to
call it a wiener. That's what boys your age call it, isn't it? A
weiner, when it's small, and a stiffie when it's all big and
hard?" he suggested with a downward leer. "I'd be surprised if
you're not getting a stiffie right now. In fact, maybe you've
already got one hiding down there."

The boy tensed, gulping air into his parched throat, knowing the
truth of those words. It was small, the smallest of any of his
friends from school. Again he swallowed. The words burned his
ears. Throughout his slender body, he felt a weird, overpowering
thrill. His heart was racing, urging him on. The man was talking
in a low voice. It was barely more than a whisper, but he heard
every word clearly. What he was hearing made him tremble with
excitement. The man was talking about his penis. He was talking
about his penis being hard, and it was. It was very hard. It
seemed to take all of his concerted effort merely to breath out.
The warnings about strangers in toilets were forgotten in an
instant. He realized intuitively that if he stayed there much
longer it would soon be more, much more than mere words. He did
not understand why he wanted more.

He was aware of the man's proximity, and it made him self-
conscious. That his erection was barely long enough to project
beyond the opening in his shorts, gave no solace. The sound and
motion beside him startled him. He was very aware that the man
was slowly opening his zipper.

"You've got a hard-on, haven't you?" Martin asked crudely.

The boy nodded awkwardly, afraid to look across and confirm what
both of them already knew. His penis was very hard. It had been
that way since he first walked into the toilet, since he saw the
man looking at him from the other side of the fountain. He had
recognized him right away. It was the same man who had been in
the arcade. His penis was so stiff that it was impossible for him
to urinate, even if he wanted to.

"You like to play with it, don't you," Martin said huskily.

Again the boy nodded slightly, exerting all of his willpower to
resist temptation. He should have felt revulsion. Instead he was
more excited than he had ever been during his ten years.

"Yeah! Especially when it's hard, I bet. It's fun to rub it when
it's sticking up. Up and down. Up and down. It feels really good
when you go fast, doesn't it?"

He smiled down at the shy boy. From the side of his face and
neck, Martin could see that he was starting to blush. The boy was
standing perfectly still. He was obviously interested. It was
time to go the next step. With the fingers of one hand, Martin
levered his underpants down and out of the way, clearing the way
for his semi-erect penis to protrude through the opening in his
jeans. He grasped it with his other hand, jacking the full length
with deliberate slowness.

"It feels so fucking good when you get off, doesn't it?" he said
breathily. "Yeah, it's so fucking good."

The boy tensed, trying with all his might to reject thoughts that
rose up inside him and conquered his inhibitions. He wanted
desperately to say nothing, to leave for the safety that lay
right outside the door to the men's toilet. Instead he nodded
slightly, acknowledging that not only did he masturbate, he loved
the feelings that came with it. His delayed response caused
Martin to interpret.

"You know, kid. Masturbate! Jerk off! Pull your meat!"

The boy smiled slightly, amused that an adult would talk so
openly about a subject that just about every boy his age made
jokes about. Martin smirked back at him knowingly. The words had
a special magic because they were dirty words.

"Playing with your dick feels so fucking good. Up and down. Up
and down, faster and faster until you cum." Martin rubbed
relentlessly with a slow steady motion. He sighed loudly to
convey his enjoyment. "You can't cum yet, can you?"

"Uh-uh," the boy replied nervously.

He did not understand why he wanted to stay, yet he knew he could
not leave. Suddenly, he felt very hot, his small hands clammy,
his brow feverish. He did not have to look to know what the man
was doing, yet it was all he could do not to turn his head. He
wanted badly to see the man's penis. Instead, he looked upwards.

Martin grinned again. "That's what I thought. I didn't think so.
You're not old enough, not by a long shot. Of course, there's
only one way to make sure you can't cum," he suggested teasingly.
He allowed the offer to stand without further elaboration.

"I s'pose," the boy mumbled.

"You know what feels better than playing with it?" Martin asked
slyly. The boy regarded him uncertainly, not answering except
with his eyes. "Letting someone else play with it." He smiled.

The boy shivered, meeting Martin's unrelenting gaze. He felt
strange. His inner sense was invoked. All reason was gone. he
followed his true nature, obeying thoughts that disregarded
inhibition and warnings about strangers. It was a feeling of
acceptance. He knew what he wanted. He wanted the man to touch
his penis, but more than anything else he wanted to touch the
man's penis. He nodded slightly, finally allowing his eyes to
see. His eyes lowered. The man's thick shaft was partially hidden
by his slowly moving hand. However, the boy could see the pale
smooth-shaven base and the swollen glans, bulging red and shiny.
His mouth opened in silent amazement. The man's nearly erect
penis was big. It looked bigger than his father's penis, until
then the biggest penis in his life. It was far bigger than
anything he had ever imagined. It was far larger than the vaguely
remembered images that filled his dreams at night. It was the
biggest penis he had ever seen.

"What's your name?" Martin asked.

"Skye,..."

"What's your last name, Skye?"

"... Ryder," the boy murmured self-consciously. For some reason
he was no longer afraid.

"You're not from around here, are you Skye?" Martin continued.

Skye's lips moved slightly. He was still very nervous. "I'm here
with my dad. He's at some lunch-meeting right now. When he's
done, we're going to do some rides."

"Good. I thought you might be staying at the park."

"We are," the boy admitted with a secretive whisper.

Martin smiled reassuringly. At times like this he imagined that
he had a Rasputin-like power over boys. Some boys seemed to jump
at the chance to be friends with him. "How old are you, Skye?"

"Ten!"

"So you're not old enough to drive, huh?" Martin teased
persistently. It provoked a slight smile. "But you're certainly
old enough to know what you want, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Martin nodded. "You think it's a secret, don't you Skye?"

"What's a secret?"

"What you're thinking about right now. But I know your dirty
little secret. I know what you want."

"Huh?" Skye asked uncertainly.

"I know exactly what you're thinking. I bet you're a good little
cocksucker?"

Skye's eyes opened wide. He wanted to shake his head in denial.
How many times had he pretended, forming his lips into an "o" and
moving his tongue over an imagined penis?

"You always do what you're told, don't you, Skye? You never get
into trouble, do you? No one knows what you really want is a man-
cock to suck."

"H-h-h-ow?" Skye stammered.

"Oh, I can tell just by looking at you, you know."

The boy stared directly ahead, his eyes unwavering from the white
porcelain bowl before him. A crimson blush extended to the collar
of his shirt. Even his ears felt red-hot, perhaps from shame,
perhaps from the strange thrill of hearing an adult say words
that were used in the playground.

"You want to try it, don't you? You want to meet a man who'll let
you suck his dick. You want someone who'll teach you how to suck
cock. You are a fag- boy, aren't you Skye?"

He heard Skye's sudden intake of air. It was as good as an
affirmative 'yes'. Martin grinned. Even if he was frightened, the
boy was about to get what he wanted. In his experience, a little
fear made what happened the first time even more exciting. Every
boy had to have a first time he would never forget. This boy
would never forget how he learned what was expected of him.
Combined with just the right amount of pain, the lessons were
never forgotten. After all, all said and done, it was only what
both of them wanted.

Martin stopped masturbating only moments before it was too late.
His penis was throbbing urgently, its bloated gnarled dark shaft
still pulsing as the threat of ejaculation slowly receded. By
Caucasian standards, it was very big. A statistician would have
placed it in the 90th percentile. He grinned despite the
interruption to his imminent satisfaction. He backed away from
the urinal, his erection protruding through his open zipper like
a thick stake. He observed the boy's momentary hesitation,
caution and willpower fighting a losing battle with curiosity and
sexual arousal. Bewildered, Skye glanced down, his eyes
immediately growing large again.

"Hey Skye, is mine the biggest cock you've ever seen, or what?"
Martin taunted.

"It's huge," Skye admitted breathily.

He trembled slightly, unable to take his eyes away from the
jutting organ. His heart pounded. The engorged organ seemed to
pulse with life. It was a man's penis, huge and still very erect
despite the interruption in stimulation. The purple-hued glans
was widely flared, the thick shaft variegated with swollen blue
veins.

"Do you want to play with it?"

"I guess...." Skye answered softly.

His right hand felt clammy. Deep inside he wanted to reach out
and touch it, hold it in his hand, rub his fingers along it.
There was a feeling like butterflies in his stomach.

"It's not a whole lot of fun playing with a guy's dick where
someone might see you. Let's go in the room behind the cans. Then
you can get it all out," Martin said crudely.

He placed his hand on Skye's thin shoulder. His fingers gripped
firmly, showing who was in control. He moved quickly now. It was
important that there was no time for the boy to change his mind.
Skye glanced up, his eyes questioning yet no longer afraid or
nervous. It seemed like he had been waiting all of his life for
this moment.

Guiding the boy's movements, Martin started to walk towards the
door at the far end of the row of cubicles. With a key taken from
his pocket, he opened the innocuous brown door and looked inside
to see whether it was empty. It would lock securely from the
inside, but there was always a chance one of the cleaning staff
would come by. It wasn't safe, not by a long shot. Although what
he had in mind would only take a few minutes, it was possible
that someone would come in. He leaned against the tiled wall.
Victory was at hand. He smiled reassuringly, delaying as long as
possible. For what he wanted to do, the boy had to be sexually
aroused. Then he would do whatever Martin wanted. He flexed his
penis with hungry anxiety, gleefully observing the boy's
continuing fascination. He wondered why boys were so attracted to
adult penises. Was it the same reason why men like him were
attracted to juvenile penises?

"You ever play with your ass, Skye?" he asked crudely. His heart
was pounding with excitement. He enjoyed seeing the boy squirm
with his taunts. "Maybe like sticking a finger up your chute to
see how it feels."

Skye winced visibly. His brow felt feverish. He wondered how the
man knew about that. He swallowed, compressing his lips with
determined resistance. He tried to shake his head, tried to deny
the truth of it.

"You like how it feels back there, don't you. There's nothing
quite like a finger up a tight little ass, excepting something
bigger than a finger." Martin grinned crudely. "Have you ever
tried anything else up there? Most boys do sooner or later."

Again Skye swallowed. His throat was dry, and the heat of his
forehead had expanded to his entire face. He felt red-hot,
blushing with shame at the secret that this stranger had
confronted him with. Finally, he nodded.

"Sometimes," he mumbled.

Martin grinned triumphantly. "Yeah! I thought so. You look like
the sort of boy who likes to play ass games. Let me guess what
you use." He pretended to think. "It has to be something
available around the house. The handle of a dust-broom maybe?"
Skye regarded him uncertainly and Martin smirked. "Not that, huh?
How's about a candle? You ever stuck a taper up your chute?"
Another look, less uncertain, more guilty. Martin laughed. "Hm...
I'm getting close, aren't I? Let's see, it's not a dust-broom,
and it's not a candle. Maybe you're into the fruits and
vegetables. Banana? Carrot? No, I didn't think so."

"I got this thing I use," Skye said nervously.

Martin raised an eyebrow. "I bet you do! What is it, Skye? A
hairbrush?"

"A,... a bowling pin," Skye answered softly. "It's made out of
plastic. It's from a set I got when I was a kid. Sometimes,...
sometimes I sit on it and force it into me." Skye trembled. "If I
push hard it goes in really deep."

Martin's eyes narrowed. He studied the boy. "Yeah, I bet you like
it nice and deep. It's better when it's deep." He smiled
reassuringly. The boy might be a virgin but he was a willing
victim. It was all too easy. "It felt good too, I bet. Only it's
not as good as the real thing. You want to lose your cherry don't
you?" he asked boldly.

"Huh? Lose my cherry?" Skye repeated.

Martin smirked. By the time he had finished with him, the child
would well and truly know the meaning of losing his 'cherry'.

"It means you want a man to fuck your cute little hiney, Skye.
Your hiney-hole is your cherry. Does that sound like something
you'd be interested in? Maybe when you're playing with your
bowling pin you've thought about taking a cock up your ass?"

Skye hesitated, then he nodded slightly. "I guess," he ventured
tentatively.

"Well Skye, what say we start off by getting better acquainted."

"Acquainted?"

"With what I've got in mind, Skye, we're going to become close
friends. There's no better friend than the guy who fucks your ass
the first time.It will be your first time, won't it?"

"Uh huh."

"Well, every boy has to have a first time. If you want, you can
have a lot of fun with me as your friend. You interested?"

"Yeah, I guess," Skye answered tentatively.

"How long do you have?"

"I have to meet my Dad in,..." Skye glanced at his watch. "At
between two and two-fifteen, by the fountain."

"That's more than an hour. You've got plenty of time before he
comes. I might come myself a couple of times by then. Do you want
to have some fun with me for a while?" Martin smirked,
appreciating the humor that was lost on the immature boy.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"No rush. Maybe you'll change your mind after we've had a quick
look at each other's dicks, just to make sure you've got a small
one down there," Martin grinned shamelessly at the red-faced boy.
"And unless I'm mistaken, after that you'll want to do more than
just look at what I've got down there. Mine sure isn't small like
yours. It's what a boy like you needs. Then, if you're
interested, we'll go somewhere private because I think I've got
what you want, and I know you've got what I want."

Skye looked up again. He was no longer uncertain. He felt a warm
glow and he smiled.

"Okay," he murmured.

Martin smirked, slowly nodding as if every question had been
answered, as if everything was decided.

"You're a fag, Skye. You're old enough to lose your cherry, if
you want to."

"Maybe," Skye responded uncertainly.

Martin grinned crudely. "It's nothing to be afraid of. I know
what to do with a boy-pussy. Today's your lucky day, Skye. Hell,
if you're a good boy we'll do it a couple of times before you
have to leave. You're going to be a bit sore in your hiney
afterwards, but you'll get over it in a few days. You're going to
have more fun today than you've had in your entire life. And
after I'm finished with you, you'll live to fuck. Getting fucked
will be your only reason to wake up in the morning."

Room 262 Worldview Hotel, Orlando. Evening, June 11th, 2000.

I shook my head, still disbelieving. My Skye, my beautiful,
intelligent Skye, my blue-eyed, blond-headed Skye. The ten- year-
old boy who I loved more than life itself. The boy who smiled
angelically at me and said he would be okay by himself for a few
hours.Less than an hour after I went to my meeting he had entered
a men's toilet looking for sex. He was telling me what I had
suspected and his mother seemed to have known all along. He was a
homosexual. He had been with a man for fifteen minutes before he
finally walked out into the fresh air. It had taken just fifteen
minutes for him to be changed forever. How long had I known it
would happen? Had I even anticipated something like this would
happen the night before and done nothing about it?

"He's just ashamed, I expect," I mumbled to myself awkwardly.
"He's like that sometimes. When he's frightened or nervous, he
tends to clam up."

However, I knew nothing with any degree of certainty. I had
noticed Skye's unease in the hotel room when we talked about sex.
There was a lingering impression that he had done certain things,
but not all things. He had a secret that he dared not tell me.
There might have been sexual activity with his friends, maybe
even someone older. I would have been surprised if he had not
engaged in occasional sex play with boys his own age.

>From ten floors up the view from the hotel was almost enjoyable.
No wonder it was called 'WorldView'. I felt distanced from the
events of the last few hours while I studied the world from high
above the trees. I tried to convince myself that this was not my
problem but his mother's problem. His step-father's problem too,
if the man could be convinced to see beyond his own selfish
needs.

However, I stopped before I reached the position where outright
denial was my only relief. I had to help Skye deal with what
happened to him, just as I had to learn how to deal with it
myself.

I walked slowly back into the room. Skye sat up, his face
expressionless, eyes glazed as if staring at something that was
either very far away, or inside his own head. He had been that
way frequently since he'd woken up nearly a two hours earlier.

Skye spoke with hesitancy, and stopped without reason. He wanted
to tell me, yet the words did not come. His mind had erected a
barrier as if to protect his sanity. God, how I wanted him back
the way he'd been before I left him alone in the Park.

I began with a soothing voice, calming Skye with questions about
his day, anything but what happened. Skye answered exactly as I
expected him to. Succinct answers, no elaboration, just the
truth. Skye's voice sounded innocent. I changed tack without
warning. Suddenly, everything changed. I swallowed bile as I
demanded answers to my questions.



"You went to the video game arcade, didn't you?"

"Yes. I know you told me not to, Daddy."

I sat up. It was the first time he said more than enough to
answer the question. It had been years since he called me daddy.

"Why did I tell you not to go to the arcade?"

"Because you don't like me going there by myself."

"Why not, Skye?"

"I don't remember."

Skye was hedging. Surely he would remember my warning about the
type of men who frequented arcades. I had started on the warnings
against strangers when he was six.

"Why did you go to the arcade?"

"I was waiting for you, Daddy.... I still got bored playing the
machines."

"What did you do when you left the arcade?"

"I walked around the Park some. Mostly I looked at the shops.
Then I felt,... hungry."

"I gave you some money for lunch."

"Not that kind of hungry. I,... I couldn't help myself. I went
inside."

"Huh? Where did you go inside?"

"The toilet."

"Why?"

"I was,..." Skye paused. "I don't know. He kept looking at me."

"Who kept looking at me?"

"The man by the fountain. He was in the arcade too. He made me
feel funny."

"Funny? How?'

"He had hungry eyes."

"He had hungry eyes? What does that mean?"

"I told you already. He kept looking at me."

"Okay. Don't get upset. I'm just trying to understand what
happened. The man followed you into the toilet, didn't he?"

"Yes.... I don't know why, but I wanted him to."

I breathed out with a shudder. Poor Skye. No wonder he didn't
want to remember.

"What happened in the toilet?" I asked gently.

"He came in right behind me and stood next to me. I was scared I
couldn't pee even a little bit."

"Why were you scared?"

"I don't know."

"Why didn't you leave?"

"I don't know, okay!"

"What did you want to do?"

"I wanted him to touch my cock so bad."

I sighed deeply. I could hear the fear and shame in his voice. He
was pitiful, suffering through his guilt by himself, finally
realizing what he was and knowing that he was the object of
scorn.

"Did he?" I asked simply.

"Yes."

"I want you to tell me what happened, Skye."

"He smiled at me.... Dad?"

"Yes, Skye?"

"Nothing! I don't want you to be mad at me."

"I won't be. You have to trust me. It's very important that we
talk about it. I want to help you, that's all."

"He asked if I was hairless. He said he liked hairless little
boys. Then he said we should be friends because he liked me and I
was like him."

Skye's voice seemed to tremble with excitement. He was reliving
the moment, experiencing the same incredible thrill.

"What else did he say, Skye?"

"He said I was a fag-boy."

"You know what he talking about, don't you?"

"He was saying I was queer." Skye shrugged. "I guess I am,... If
I wasn't before, I am now."

"It's not important," I said reassuringly. "Then what happened?"

"He asked,... whether I wanted,.... to,... you know,... to lose
it,... you know,... my cherry," Skye added with increasing
reluctance.

"What happened then?"

"He asked me to go into the storage room with him."

There was a slight pause. I was surprised by my apparent
calmness.

"Did you want to go with him?"

"Yes."

"What happened there?"

"He sat down on a seat."

"After that?"

Skye was silent for several seconds, fighting the urge to tell.
"He pulled my pants all the way down to my feet and started to
play with my cock," he said softly.

My next comment surprised me. To this day, I still don't know why
I said it. "It was nice, wasn't it Skye?"

"Uh huh. It felt good."

"I bet your cock got really hard when he played with it."

Skye stared blankly at me, his mind no longer challenging each
question. "Yes."

"Have you ever done anything like that before?"

"You mean have I had sex?" he asked shamelessly.

"Yes. Have you?"

"Yes."

I breathed out slowly. I closed my eyes and waited for several
long seconds, trying to think of what he would say. Deirdre had
suggested that Skye had 'flirted' with his admirer at Wilford. I
wondered what had really happened. Perhaps it had been more than
'flirting'. Even though he was only nine years old at the time he
might have been capable of it. Some boys started when they were
very young. Skye was such a sexual boy that it did not seem
improbably. I remembered what had happened in the hotel room and
tried to decide whether it could be classified as sex. In
reality, I had not really touched him in a sexual way, yet my
impression was that Skye knew it was sexual every bit as much as
I did.

"Was it with another man?"

"Uh huh!"

I sat up, guiltily. Fear settled over me as I desperately
reasoned that my fear was unfounded. I hoped that another man not
touched Skye in the way that made every parent afraid. However,
given the way he was talking, there had to be someone else,
someone who had taken advantage of him. The inevitable question,
the question I had wanted to ask Skye several times after we had
arrived in Florida, but had not been able to ask, had finally
come. Perhaps I was so afraid of the answer that I had steered
away from it.

"I want you tell me what happened,... with the other man," I said
awkwardly. "Who was he?"

"Promise you won't get angry?"

"I promise."

"Mr. McVue. He used to play with me in the storeroom," Skye
answered blandly.

"Who's Mr. McVue?"

"He's my music teacher at school. He does stuff with me and Peter
Haverstock."

I shivered and the tension evaporated, wondering when it had
happened. Perhaps a better question was how long it had been
going on for. Somehow, I knew that it was not just a single
incident. There had been lots of times, or at least lots of
opportunities given the amount of work that Skye had undertaken
for the Fifth Grade Annual Show. School started in mid-August and
the Annual Show was in May. It accounted for Skye's sudden change
in behavior towards school. Even his mother had informed me that
he looked forward to music class in a way that was unusual even
for him. With deepening fear, I sat back on the corner of the
table, watching him. Suddenly, I was very glad that I had decided
to confront what had happened.

"You like to do things with Peter and Mr. McVue, don't you,
Skye?" I asked.

"Uh huh!"

"Does Mr. McVue play with your penis?"

"Yeah."

"And Peter's too?"

"Uh huh. I play with his cock too. So does Peter, a bit.
Sometimes he lets us suck his. Sometimes we suck each others
while he watches."

"Do you like to do that?"

"Uh huh!"

Skye's eyes flickered up, just a few seconds but long enough to
make contact with mine. My fists tightened. If he was trying me
to make me angry with his calm honesty, he was doing an excellent
job. i took a deep breath and advanced into unknown territory.

"Now Skye, you see it doesn't make me angry, does it?"

Skye regarded me and tilted his head to the side as if in
thought. He shrugged dispassionately.

"Okay, now I want you to tell what happened in the toilet. Can
you tell me what the man did to you? What did you do with him?" I
asked nervously.

"He sucked on my dick for a while. Then he put his finger up my
butt."

"Had Mr. McVue hadn't done that to you?"

"No. It felt strange at first, it even hurt a bit, but I still
liked it. It was different to doing it by myself. It made my cock
really hard."

Skye looked directly at me again, as if trying to see whether his
words were having the desired effect. I breathed out, nodding.
With unsettling trepidation, I continued with my questions.

"Then what?"

"He stood up and started taking his jeans down."

I shuddered as Skye smiled shamelessly. He was remembering,
replaying the scene while the man undressed. He was thinking of
what he saw. I closed my eyes momentarily. I was barely able to
breath.

"It was funny," Skye said softly.

"What was funny?"

"It looked funny because he didn't have any hair there."

"What? Hair? Where?"

"Around his cock, of course," Skye replied with obvious
exasperation.

"Oh! You mean around his penis?" I asked.

"Of course. He said he shaved it off so he would look like a
little boy again," Skye explained. "It looked really funny," he
added seriously.

Unconsciously, he rubbed at his crotch. For a few seconds I
wondered what was irritating him. Then the truth dawned. He was
becoming sexually aroused. I felt my heart skip, then pick up a
few more beats. That I was also excited, was even more
disturbing. So, he looked like a little boy, I thought to myself.

"Did you like it like that?"

"It's okay."

His smile said more.

"Did he say or do anything else you thought was funny, Skye?" I
probed.

Skye shrugged disinterestedly, his hand now stroking rhythmically
between his thighs, visibly engaging the stiffness under the soft
cloth of his sweat pants.

"Did you suck his penis, Skye?"

"Yeah! I sucked him. It was hard getting his cock in far enough.
He has a really big one," Skye said earnestly. "It's much bigger
than your's. I'd never seen one that big before. It's long and
really thick."

"Then what happened, Skye?" I asked dispassionately.

"I sucked him. It was a bit smelly at first, like pee. I guess it
kinda bothered me until I got used to it. It's so big, way bigger
than your's."

Even more than the deprecating comments regarding my genitals,
the change in tense from past to present made my stomach churn.
He was remembering, making past events that should have been
forgotten become his present reality. I could sense the excited
charge that flooded him. It was a surge that made his body
quiver. The comparison with my penis was unsettling and I felt my
stiffness diminish slightly. Skye was not so afflicted, and the
pointed disturbance in his loose sweat pants left no uncertainty
regarding his erect state. He was breathing deeply, his eyes half
closed.

"It tastes salty, you know. the stuff that oozes out before a man
cums," he added absently.

Again, Skye looked directly at me. His eyes were narrowed,
silently assessing me. He was testing me, seeing how far he could
push before I responded to his obscenity. I resisted the impulse
to say something. The horror of his personal nightmare was beyond
comprehension. Yet, I had to hear it all. I owed him that much.

"What happened then?"

"I wanted to do it for him until his stuff came out, only he
wouldn't let me. He made me stop after a few minutes 'cause he
was going to cum. Then he rubbed his cock all over my tummy. It
made me really hot."

"Hot?"

"You know, hot, like horny. It got really stiff. I've never been
that hard before," Skye explained.

"It's called an erection," I said perfunctorily.

"It got like that 'cause I was so excited. I wasn't afraid any
more," Skye said testily. "He started saying things, and calling
me dirty names," he added shamelessly.

"You can tell me if you want," I suggested.

Skye swallowed. His left hand brushed through the few remaining
spikes of hair that remained from his visit to the hair salon
just one day before his school performance. During the last few
weeks, the colors had faded. The dyed streaks were no longer red-
blue and vivid purple, the punk-plume that was so undeniably
homoerotic. They had become muted shades that merely hinted at
his underlying sexuality. His other hand was busy, fingers
wrapped around the cloth-covered projection, squeezing and
rubbing, tantalizing both of us by what could not be seen.

"I'm a fag," Skye murmured. He smiled obscenely at me, his eyes
wide open. "That's what he called me. Now I know what the hole in
my butt is for. It's there so men can fuck me. I don't have a
cunt so I have to use my butt-hole. I want to have their cocks in
my boy-pussy."

I felt a cold chill. It was immediately followed by a surge of
excitement that overwhelmed me. It was not only the words, it was
the way he used them. No longer did he depreciate his sexuality.
He exuded an eroticism that aroused my perverted lust. He had
accepted what he was. He was no longer ashamed of his desires. I
remembered what happened in the hotel room only a night earlier.
The euphoric look on his face was unforgettable. He was in his
element, pursuing an inner need that could not be denied. Only
twenty-four hours ago he had been ashamed. Then I had been barely
able to resist him, but only because of his shame. Now, I knew I
would succumb as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

"Then what happened?"

"He took my shorts and undies down and made me stand up and turn
around for for him. He said I had a really nice butt."

"Then what happened?" I persisted.

Skye gazed down at his bare feet, still smiling, still
remembering. "He got some stuff out of his pocket and made me
kneel so I was lying over his legs. He put a lot around my butt-
hole with his finger, then he stuck it all the way up inside me."

The look on Skye's face would haunt me until I died. He grinned
lasciviously. From the look alone, I could imagine what had
happened. He was remembering the intense pleasure of his very
first time with something human other than himself. He was
feeling the man's finger pushing deeper and deeper until it was
all the way inside his rectum. It was something he would never
forget.

"And?" I prompted. I felt a strange sense of detachment.

"He made me get off in only a few seconds, and with just his
finger too. God, I was so horny I couldn't stand it," Skye added
slyly. "Then he put two fingers up me.

"I expect it felt good too, didn't it?" I asked awkwardly.

It was easy to imagine him with his buttocks parted, two adult
fingers inserted into his anus. I gulped air and listened,
shamelessly aware that I was incredibly excited.

"Good? God, it felt so fucking incredible I could believe it,"
Skye laughed smuttily. "It hurt for a few seconds until I got
used to it, of course. It's always like that at first. Then I
thought I had died and gone to heaven. After a while he stuck
three fingers up me. That hurt too, but only for a while, and
then it got better just like it always does."

He paused momentarily, still remembering to over-powering
sensations that had coursed through his young body. The man had
taken him to the very edge of his sanity.

"After I got the feeling, he asked me if I wanted to go to his
place so he fuck me properly."

I felt the shock like a concrete block had been dropped onto my
chest and the air knocked out of me. For a few seconds it was
impossible to breath. The thought had never been far from my
mind, but I had squelched it ever time it breached my
consciousness. Had Skye done that? With a strange man in a
storage room at the rear of a public toilet?

"What did you say?"

Skye smiled guilelessly and looked up at me. "What do you think I
said?"

"I don't know."

Until that afternoon, Skye had been perfect in every way. Every
day of his life I had admired him, astounded that such beauty
could have been created by someone whose name I did not know as
the result of an unfortunate union with his mother.

"Do you know who he was?" I asked casually.

"No. He's a just man who likes boys."

"But he was there for a reason, you know that don't you Skye?"

"There's no secret he wanted to have sex with me. I guess he
worked there because he had a key."

Skye smirked knowingly, looking directly at me and silently
challenging me to pursue the matter further. I backed away
quickly.

"You knew what he was doing to you was wrong, didn't you, Skye?"

Skye shrugged. He glanced towards me. I had the disturbing
thought that he knew I was sexually aroused. It seemed as though
every time he talked, he was parodying my own words from a few
days earlier.

"Wrong? What's wrong with it? What I do with my body is my
decision, isn't it? Isn't that what grown-ups tell kids? No one
has the right to tell me not to do things that I want to do. I
can do anything I want just so long as it doesn't affect anyone
else."

I regarded him thoughtfully. "That's true in a way, Skye.
However, it's much more complicated than that. What about drugs?"

"Jesus! I don't do drugs, okay," Skye said hotly. "And I won't
ever. I'm not like that."

"Okay! I believe you. Still, you knew it was dangerous. You could
have been,... well hurt or worse. People like that, sometimes
they hurt kids like you. If you had gone with him you might have
been killed. In fact you're very lucky you weren't hurt."

"I'm here now, aren't I?"

"I think you need to be older than you are to make the decisions
like the ones you're talking about, especially any decisions that
involve having sex with someone who's a lot older than you are."

"Like letting a man stick his fingers in my butt?" he smiled
salaciously. "You already told me it's nothing to be ashamed
about, not if it's what I wanted to do," Skye retorted.

"You just said that he wanted to stick more than his fingers up
there though, didn't he?"

Skye laughed cruelly. "Why do you care? I'm a fag. Maybe I wanted
him to fuck me. When he asked me whether I wanted to do it with
him, maybe I said yes. I could have, if I wanted to."

"I don't know how you can believe that. No boy your age has the
experience to make that kind of decision."

"How do you know what I want?"

I sighed. "You poor little bugger, Skye," I said softly. "I could
have prevented this if only I'd listened to you. Last night you
were trying to tell me what you were feeling, weren't you? I
should have known what you wanted. But I didn't, and you came out
all by yourself."

Skye shrugged. "It would have happened sooner or later."

"You were always a stoic," I mused. "Didn't you think that you
might have been hurt?" I asked with growing frustration.

"Of course. I'm not an idiot. I could have left whenever I wanted
to. I wanted to stay. If he hurt me, I could have screamed for
help. Anyway, now I'm gay so it doesn't matter."

"What does that mean, Skye?" I asked. "Being gay doesn't mean
having sex with any one who happens to come along. Some gays are
promiscuous but that doesn't mean that you have to be."

"Okay, so I'm sorry and it wasn't very smart, but I can't change
what happened, can I?" he replied with a hardened and impassive
maturity that defied his age.

"Then be a whore, Skye. Go to any man who wants you. With your
looks you'll find there are a lot of them out there. Maybe in a
few years, when you're worn out or dying from AIDS, you'll
realize that it isn't worth it."

"Gee, thanks for the great advice, Dad!" Skye snarled. "I hang
out in public toilets all the time from now on!"

"Skye!" I shook with anger. "For God's sake, if you're going to
have sex, just do yourself the favor of doing it with someone who
loves you. That's all I'm trying to say."

"Yeah, someone who's understanding like you, right," Skye snapped
back at me. "I think I'd prefer some man in a toilet."



Room 262 Worldview Hotel, Orlando. June 12th, 2000



I made a another pass over already bald flesh. For the fourth or
fifth time I carefully guided the razor into every fold of my
scrotum and around the base of my penis before criss- crossing
over my lower belly. Finally satisfied, I washed off the lather.
I was smooth from midway between my groin and navel to my thighs.

"I look like a hairless little boy again," I thought with some
satisfaction as I surveyed the end result.

That part of my anatomy also looked like Martin was entirely
intentional yet something I preferred not to acknowledge. I
turned off the water and opened the shower door to get a towel. I
was pleased with my new appearance, my genitals not too unlike
Skye's smooth boyish organs if the difference in size was
overlooked. Without pubic hair the sense of being naked was
greater enhanced. I was glad I had decided to do it.

I posed before the mirror, flaunting my denuded body. Being
deprived of my adult hairiness, albeit artificially, was suddenly
strangely arousing. I smiled, my thoughts turning to the equally
nude boy in the adjoining room.

"My beautiful little boy should be waking up about now," I mused
aloud.

I had planned what was to happen during the day as Skye and I
visited one attraction after the next. Now that it was about to
begin the realization made my body shiver. Gooseflesh erupted on
my arms and my penis began to bloat with the onset of an
erection. I watched it lengthen, thicken, straighten in the
steam-frosted mirror until I was rigid.

"Not much longer, Skye," I promised silently. "And you'll be
mine."

The plan was flexible with room to maneuver. However, I still had
one more hurdle before it could be set in motion. Success hinged
entirely on Skye's initial reaction. I discounted my earlier
uncertainty, positive in my knowledge that with a little
prompting on my part, he would probably enjoy playing the part if
the willing victim again, if not actually relishing his role. Of
course, I hoped for eager participation on his side, something
that would truly make our first time worth remembering. More than
anything, I wanted Skye to be my lover. I also wanted men to lust
after him. One man in Wilford, Mr. McVue his music teacher, and
now a stranger in a toilet had all taken advantage of his
innocence. Without a shadow of a doubt, I realized there would be
other men. Boys like Skye attracted such men like bees to honey.
The more they desired him, the more their frustration would
provide me personal satisfaction. Any man would be proud to have
Skye as his lover.

Momentarily, I considered whether my confidence was misjudged. I
shook my head resolutely. If he was not gay, then I would do him
more harm than all the rest combined. However, even from the time
Skye was a toddler, there was something about him that struck a
familiar chord. What the men had done to him had merely confirmed
it. For as far back as I could clearly remember, I had always
been aware of the similarities between us. No matter how much
either of us tried to hide it, the attraction mysteriously wanted
to announce itself with unsettling frequency. If I played my
cards right, perhaps Skye would even become an equal partner in
my plan. A father and son tag team with a mutual goal.

I picked up the unopened bottle of hand-lotion and poured out a
large amount. I was quickly reaching the point of no return. It
was just a matter of seconds until I stepped through the door.
There was no going back. I sighed, then slowly reached downward.
There was a momentary shock when I felt the cool cream on my
heated erection. A quick downward glance was enough to see my
glistening penis, my glans flared and purple-tinted, my testicles
drawn into a tight knot. Despite the guilty inhibition that
continued to torment me, it throbbed with anxious need. I was
sexually aroused in a way that should have been extremely
disturbing because of the incestuous implication. I was beyond
caring. I shrugged dismissively. Instead of engaging in moral
dispute, I picked up my dressing gown and slipped my arms through
the sleeves. Skye was waiting next door. He had been waiting for
more than enough time.

He was awake, just as I expected he would be. He glanced away
quickly when I entered the room, leaving a distinct impression
that he had been watching the door for my return. I gazed at him,
his slim body covered up to the nipples by the blanket. His upper
chest appeared pale and fragile in the yellowish light from the
lamp. His hair was still tinted the same blue-purple and streaked
with yellow-blond. There was no denying that he was beautiful. I
breathed out slowly. From where I stood, he was simply ravishing.
His nakedness was hidden, yet, I did not need to see him to know
that his perfection extended from head to toe. With his clear
blue eyes, he looked innocent. In fact, without knowing better,
it was impossible to imagine that anything bad had ever happened
to him. I stood patiently, watching and waiting.

Slowly, Skye's head turned to look back at me. His face was
expressionless, like he was dead. I sensed his hatred, his
disgust, his shame. He had woken up in a bad mood, and during the
day, he had gone from bad to worse. I shuddered and breathed
heavily, stilling blaming myself. Wordlessly, he turned onto his
side, then onto his front, hiding himself. His face was buried
into the pillow, too ashamed to speak. Nothing had changed. I
wondered how many times I had tried to break through the barrier
he had erected between us. during the day It was an impenetrable
shield, an emotionless armor that defied affection, rejected
understanding, gave nothing away.

I walked forward, realizing that my right hand was shaking. This
time, when I massaged his back I would cross into forbidden
territory and instinctively, I knew that the days and nights that
followed this one would be very different.

I sat down beside him, feeling the residual warmth of his body on
the mattress. He tensed, immobile as I gently lifted the covering
away. He was naked. Although his skin was not as dark as he had
been before winter, his back was still lightly tanned. His
buttocks, small firm slightly pinched mounds, were nearly white.

As was quickly becoming my habit, I patted his bare rump to
accustom him to my touch. This time my fingers lingered, gently
stroking my fingertips into the beginning of his crevice. He
shivered slightly. Previously, I had massaged his shoulders
first, working my way slowly down his sides and spine until his
butt was all that remained untouched. Now, an excited thrill ran
through me. My hand trembled. I closed my eyes. I exerted every
effort to make my caress light and feathery, and full of love. My
hand travelled up his slender back, over one shoulder blade, down
the bumpy ridges of his spine. His sigh was barely audible. He
was beautiful.

"Skye,.... I'm sorry," I whispered. "God, I'm so sorry."

He did not respond to my touch. My thoughts filled with memories
of him as a young child. Before the divorce, he was an
affectionate boy who loved to be touched, always demanding casual
back-rubs whenever I had the time for him. My excitement raged. I
heard him sniff, his crying muffled in the pillow under his head.

"Skye,..." I implored.

Nothing, no movement, no words. I stroked the smooth curvature of
his small cheeks. From behind, there was no sign of his private
treasure. My hands trembled as I cupped each cheek and gently
opened him to view. There was a grey-greenish hue that had
replaced the pink-brown circle of wrinkled flesh that once
surrounded his anus. There was no pucker. His experimentation had
seen to that. I fingered the loose opening gently, touching where
ripples had once been but were no longer.

He had already prepared himself, or rather I should say had been
enjoying his body's capacity for pleasure while I was in the
shower. I hesitated outside his glistening orifice, staring at
the tell-tale transparent sheen of hand lotion. My finger was
inside his anus before I realized it. There was a firm pressure
that resisted any inward motion beyond the second joint of my
finger. He was already relaxed, suggesting that his sphincter's
involuntary strength had been reduced by an earlier activity.

"Does that feel okay?" I asked awkwardly.

"Uh huh. It's nice."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No! I want you to do it."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure I'm sure."

"You're nice and loose," I acknowledged. "Don't fight it," I
instructed patiently. "You should relax as much as you can."

He softened, then squeezed feebly as his muscles tried to
cooperate. His silent consent was voiced through the casual
repositioning of his buttocks several inches closer to me. I felt
his loose band tighten slightly, his moist heat binding
uncertainly around my intruding digit before he relaxed slightly.

"You'll have to do better than that," I teased. "Especially if
you want to have sex with a man one day."

"I'm trying! Okay?" Skye muttered. "I can't stop it closing up!"

"Does it hurt?"

"No! It doesn't hurt,... It's just,... I just can't make it
relax! That's all!"

I sighed inwardly. "Yes you can. It just takes practice, that's
all."

I followed my instincts. My finger forcefully levered downward to
achieve what Skye was unable to do. It was not difficult given
the amount of hand lotion present. My finger sank into him,
burying almost to the second joint before I stopped pushing. He
jumped when I made contact with his immature prostate. I lifted
up, curling my digit within his bowel to increase the pressure.
My finger pushed against his prostate mercilessly. After a few
seconds when he did not breathe, I rotated it, rubbing forcefully
over the delicate gland buried just inside his abdomen.

"Uhhhhh," he groaned.

He gasped suddenly, almost like he had experienced a momentary
orgasm. I smiled, eased away slightly to relieve the pressure,
then increased it by pushing harder until he groaned again. My
knuckle brushed his scrotum, my finger all the way inside the
velvet-hot canal. With deliberate intentions, I curled my finger
and again forced the tip directly into the pea-sized organ that
in a few years would produce his seminal fluid. Skye gasped
loudly. Even as my finger backed away, he pushed down, squeezing
as hard as he could to compress his bowel and continue the
pleasure I had given to him.

"Urrrgggghhhhh," he grunted.

There was a desperation in his voice that had never been there
before when he did it by himself. Without warning he trembled
again from a sudden spasm from deep within him. Unless I was
mistaken, the boy was bordering on orgasm. He twitched, raising
up. His buttocks lifted higher than the rest of him. He was
undeniably pushing back against me. I felt his sphincter muscle
contract, his rectum trying to grab my finger and pull it deeper.
Suddenly, he felt very loose. It was reassuring in more ways than
one. Not only was there controlled muscular effort, but he was
becoming increasingly sexually aroused. My finger probed deeper,
using more force against his prostate than I intended. He
shuddered without warning, his slender body again racked by a
fleeting sensation that preceded orgasm. My guilt, and there was
an abundance of it, was assuaged by a cry that was muffled by the
pillow.

"Are you okay?" I asked cautiously.

Skye nodded slightly, waiting. I paused, fighting the inhibitions
of incest. We had just reached the point of no return. Both of us
were enjoying it. Either I stopped, or I took the next step.
There was no turning back when my finger resumed its rhythmic
stroking. My hesitation provided him with a brief respite. It
ended before either of us had the chance to think about it. I
provoked sensations deep inside him without mercy. His sphincter
tightened, gripping with surprising strength, yet not enough to
slow my cautious stabbing. It was deliberate, and just strong
enough to demonstrate the growing urgency of his need without
slowing my motion. I leaned forward, bringing my mouth close to
his nearest ear. Now was as good a time as any.

"What that man did to you was wrong, Skye. You should have sex
only when you love someone."

"But I'm gay."

"Being gay isn't a bad thing."

He lay quietly, my finger fully embedded in his quivering anus.
The silent hiatus dragged on. I wanted to finish what I had
started. I wanted to share his pain. Above all, I wanted to
replace his pain with pleasure, and to teach him the meaning of a
man's love. I felt my patience being tested, yet I realized that
now, above all else, I needed to wait for him to respond. I could
not force myself on him after what another man had done to him. I
wanted this to be something that he wanted to do. I wanted him to
desire my love and to need me as much as I needed him. My hand
moved away, wiping the slick lubricant against the sheets.

"I didn't want it to happen like that," Skye murmured.

"I know. I'm understand, Skye."

"I'm... I'm sorry. I know you're worried about me."

"You could have been killed, Skye."

"I know. I just wanted to find out what it was like. That's all I
wanted. I didn't think..."

"It's okay to want to have sex, Skye." I paused. "You have to be
very careful, especially at your age. You have to be very sure
the man loves you before you do anything with him."

"He seemed nice at first," Skye said absently.

"I'm sure he did. But he wasn't, was he?"

"Do you hate me?"

"Hate you? God no! I'm so sorry you about what happened,... and
I'm angry at myself for leaving you alone. I could never hate
you, Skye. Never in a million years."

"Is it because you love me so much?"

"What do you think?" I replied.

"I guess."

"It's normal for a boy of your age to be curious about sex,
Skye," I said gently. "If a boy's interested in other guys, it
doesn't matter. And it's okay for him to experiment, Skye. It's
not wrong. At your age it doesn't even mean he's gay. Boys go
through a stage. Most boys grow out of it, but not all of them."

"Then he's gay," Skye interjected. "I am. You know I am too. I've
known it for a long while. I won't grow out of it because I'm
gay!"

"How can you be so sure, Skye?" I asked gently. "You're still so
young. Even what happened yesterday doesn't prove anything."

I lifted him into my arms and held him in my lap. Not for the
first time, I was stunned by his light weight. The slender boy
seemed very fragile.

"I know because I look at pictures of men,... and I pretend I'm
with them. I think about doing it with guys."

I nodded understandingly. 'It' no longer needed explanation, not
after what he had been through. His innocence was gone.

"That's okay too. You shouldn't feel bad about it."

"Some men look at pictures of boys and pretend too," Skye said
sullenly.

"That's true. It's not unusual for men and boys to like each
other like that," I said absently. "They're called boylovers. It
doesn't mean they should have sex though," I added.

"Why not?"

"It's against the law. Skye."

"I'm not dumb. I know that. It still happens. Martin said there
are lots of men and boys who have sex."

I heard the awkwardness of youth in Skye's voice. He had learned
about the existence of boylovers by experience. It was more than
he needed to know yet, I sensed that he was consumed by the need
to learn more. The seeds had been planted in his fertile mind a
long time ago. Along the way he had been nurtured by a music
teacher.

"Yes, there are," I said.

"I wanted to go in the can with him, Dad. I couldn't help it."

"I know, Skye."

"Why... Why am I like this, Dad? I don't want to be."

"I don't know the answer to that, Skye. I think some boys are
like that. Maybe it's how you were born. The big problem is they
felt guilty about it,... because society says it's wrong. Maybe
it's the reason why you're as good looking as you are."

"So men like me?"

I nodded. "Nature has her own marvellous plan for how we live.
Maybe it's all part of that plan. Sometimes, when I was a boy,
well there were a few guys. It was nice."

"He said he wanted me to enjoy it. He was so nice. I know he
wanted me to go along with him now," Skye murmured guiltily.
"Then, I couldn't stop myself."

It was not hard to understand how it had occurred. I felt my
anger flaring and I took a deep breath. Skye was curious, wanting
to find out what he was for himself. Already, he knew how much he
enjoyed the attention. It was easy to imagine his young body
responding to the man's obscene lust. He inflicted torment of a
special kind. Skye had achieved an erection commensurate with his
expectations. There was no denying his excitement. Then the man
had done other things to him, things that Skye would never be
able to forget. I breathed out.

"Doing that to you was wrong, Skye. It doesn't matter what you
wanted. But I want you to understand that not all men are that
way. It's very different when men and boys have sex because
they're in love."

"I know that. He said loved me,... when I did what he wanted me
to," he said sadly.

I clenched my fist, still ravaged by the need for vengeance
against the stranger who had taken advantage of his youth and
inexperience. "Skye,..." I began awkwardly. My inability to speak
honestly hung between us until finally I gasped the two words
that interrupted the long silence. "What's really bothering you?"

Skye quickly looked away. For a long while he stared at the wall
as if memorizing the decorative pattern of the wallpaper.

"I... couldn't... help... it," he whispered hesitantly.

I nodded reassuringly. Skye's dam was breaking before my eyes. I
held him tightly, rocking to and fro. He began to cry, sobbing
from deep in his chest until his body was shuddering with erratic
convulsions. I tried to imagine what he had experienced in the
toilet, his fearful guilt from being a willing victim, his
confusion and shame when he knelt before the stranger and took
the man's huge penis into his mouth. His would have been
terrified when the semen spurted into his young body. He was no
longer innocent. His beautiful body had been abused.

"Tell me what's wrong," I said patiently.

"No! I don't want you to be angry with me again."

"I love you, Skye. I promise I won't be angry with you," I added.

"Martin,... he wanted to do it, even though I didn't. He kept on
asking me, you know, whether he could. So finally, I said he
could try, if it didn't hurt too much. I was worried because his
thing,... his cock was so big. He put some stuff in my butt
first,... lots and lots of it so he wouldn't hurt me,... Then he
made me bend over and put my hands against the wall. And he moved
around behind me. When he tried to put his cock inside me I got
frightened and I cried. It hurt so much. I wanted him to stop so
bad."

"Did you tell him to stop?" I asked awkwardly. I could feel my
anger mounting while I listened to Skye. Surely the man had not
raped him.

"No.... I... I tried. I really tried. It felt like I was being
torn apart behind me. I could feel it pushing in. It was so hard.
I thought I was going to be ripped apart. I felt like I was going
to be sick. When I cried it made him angry, so I tried not to."

I breathed out. Anger mixed with excitement. It was not the
normal kind of excitement that a person feels during sex. This
was urgent, demanding, over-powering. I could feel my heart
pounding, each beat driving onwards to the inevitable question.

"You wanted him to fuck you, didn't you Skye. You wanted his cock
inside you?"

Skye gave a barely perceptible nod. "I wanted to know what it
felt like. I couldn't stop him. It hurt so bad. It was so
horrible that I couldn't stop crying. It wasn't anything like I
expected it to be. So he stopped trying and after a while it felt
okay again."

"You wanted to like it," I said awkwardly. "That's how it is for
some guys."

The truth hurt. I knew exactly how it felt the first few times.
It hurt like hell, especially for a young boy. The strange thing
was that the pain did not stop the person on the receiving end
from wanting to like it.

"I.... I guess....

I grinned suddenly. "Good for you!"

"Huh?"

I continued to smile, realizing how to get through to him. "I
said 'good for you'. You know, once it's inside you, the pain
goes away and it feels really nice after a while. You just have
to be patient for a few minutes."

"Yeah, that's what he said. You don't mind? You're not angry?"
Skye asked with surprise.

"If what you mean is do I mind that you've started to enjoy your
body, the answer is no. If you mean do I mind that you did
something that you feel bad about, the answer is yes. I'm only
angry that he hurt you."

"I don't understand."

I shrugged and took a deep breath. "Okay. We both agree that
you're probably going to be gay when you grow up, Skye. We both
understand it's nothing to be ashamed about as well. Neither of
us can change it. It's time we talked openly about what it means
to be gay. You might not like the way other people make fun of
gays, but you might as well get used to it. I think, no, I know
that having anal sex is probably the most important part of being
gay. It isn't essential, but it's how most gays have sex. For
you, I don't know how to say this, getting fucked is how you're
going to show a man how much you love him. Practicing the way you
did last night is part of growing up for you. You grow up by
learning, by experiencing what your body has to offer. Eventually
the right man will come along. He'll teach you everything you
need to know."

Skye smiled uncertainly. "Sure, it's easy for you to say. You're
not,...."

"Okay,... what's the problem," I interjected.

"I'm still a kid. I don't want to be gay."

"Don't be angry about it and don't hate yourself. You have no say
in it. If you want to hate someone, hate me."

"You? Why?"

I smiled. "Because although your mom and another man brought you
into this world, I've always loved you."

"So why would I hate you?"

"Because I love you."

"That doesn't make any sense at all."

"Yes it does. I love you, and not like my own son," I answered. I
felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from my chest.

"That helps a lot," Skye said sarcastically.

"You really don't understand, do you? Skye, if you must know, and
I think maybe it's time you did know, I love you because you're a
boy," I said cautiously. He looked at me uncertainly. "I may not
be your real father, but I helped to raise you. Maybe I had a bad
influence." Skye continued to regard me silently. "Do you
understand what I mean when I say I love you because you're a
boy?"

"I think I do. Are you saying you're gay too?"

"Yes, I guess so!"

"I don't believe you."

I sighed. "In a way, I am, Skye. That's why your mom and I
separated."

"Mom said you're gay. I didn't believe her either."

I nodded. "What's there not to believe. I like boys. I'm not
happy about it, but I can't help it, Skye."

"You like boys? Boys? You mean boys like my age or older guys?"
Skye asked uncertainly. He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "You're
a boy-lover like him, aren't you?"

"I guess."

Skye's hand shook slightly. "You're not like Martin though," he
added quickly.

I heard the fear in his voice. I glanced at the wall, feeling
revulsion. "I can control it, Skye," I said miserably. "I might
be a pervert in a lot of people's eyes, but you're safe with me."

"Like I care?" Skye shrugged. "I'm a fag too. I stick things up
my ass, remember? A guy almost fucked me. I don't know how many
times I've dreamed about it."

I swallowed, wondering whether he really intended to say
something else. All of my life I had lived with the threat of
discovery and constant self-hatred, made even worse by my failed
marriage and a boy who often looked at me strangely and left me
feeling as though I was missing the point of being alive. Had
Skye been feeling the same attraction all along?

"Skye," I began awkwardly. "You don't understand."

"I do understand and I don't care, okay. You're a man who likes
boys and I'm a boy who likes men. What is there not to understand
about it? It isn't all that difficult to understand."

I laughed, uncertain of why I found his naivete amusing. Then
suddenly, the thought came to me that out of the blue he had
stated the obvious. I should have seen it all along. I had been
blind to his appeal last night, and he knew all the time that I
was gay. He had been trying to tell me what he wanted, that he
wanted me, and I had not been listening to him. What was there
not to understand. If Skye was willing, why not? The taboos of
incest were intended to protect the human gene pool, not ten-
year-old gay boys who would never reproduce. Besides, my
perverted logic disputed, Skye was not really related to me by
blood so it could hardly be incest.

"It seems pretty simple if you look at it like that, doesn't it?"
I asked.

He shrugged and looked at me seriously. His voice lowered to a
secretive whisper. "No one would have to know. Not even Mom.
After what happened last summer at Wilford, I don't think she
would mind anyway. I'd never tell anyone, and neither would you,"
he grinned sheepishly. "Especially not Robert, although I really
don't think he would lose any sleep over anything I did. In fact,
he'd be very happy if I never came home again."

"You're a beautiful boy," I said softly. "I've always dreamed.
I've always wanted to, but that's all I've ever done. I've
dreamed, Skye."

"You've never had sex with a boy before now?" Skye asked
promptly. "I thought in California, that's all people did, have
sex and all that."

"They do have sex a lot," I laughed. "Only usually not with boys
your age, although I'm sure it goes on there."

He smirked, bravely enjoying his new-found relief from inner
torment. "Mom said you had a boyfriend."

"Had is the operative word! But he was hardly a boy. He was
eighteen when I first met him, Skye. And that was two years ago.
We're talking about men liking boys."

"Like with Michael Jackson?"

I nodded, thinking of the problems that Michael had gotten into
when one of his boys became public. "More or less. They'd put me
in jail for the rest of my life if anyone found out I had sex
with a boy."

Skye's eyes flashed, no longer moody. He tried to play the role
of abused child, giggling before he finished. "Help! Help!
Someone call the child abuse hot-line. I'm being raped."

"Very funny," I said seriously. "Skye, do you know what this
means?"

"Uh-huh!" Playfully he covered his groin with both hands.

"No! Be serious for a moment."

"O-k-a-y," he answered in a sing-song voice that was too soprano
for comfort, serving to remind me that he was still several years
away from puberty.

"Skye, this is important. Before you have sex with someone you
should love them first."

"I have to get married first?" he said with playful slyness.

"I didn't say you had to get married. Anyone you have sex with, a
male or a female, it's always better if you love them first."

"Why?" he asked simply, seriously. "Don't people have sex just
because it feels good?"

I smiled absently, thinking of the people I had sex with and how
few of them I had truly loved. There was a rationalization that I
used at the time, but I could not think of any explanation that
Skye would accept. I loved none of them as much as I loved Skye.
I was a hypocrite of the highest order.

"It's too dangerous nowadays," I answered vaguely. He waited for
me to explain. "There's AIDS for one thing."

He smiled with a boy's solution to every problem. "I know that.
You told me already, remember. I haven't forgotten. So you use a
rubber if you're worried about it. Everyone at school knows that.
Anyway I don't have AIDS."

I smiled back at him. "It isn't that. Neither do i but I'll
always be worried about you catching it when you start having
sex. However, if you're very careful, you should be okay."

He shrugged dreamily, caught up in some inner thoughts that were
hidden from me. "So? If you don't have AIDS, and I don't, then
there's nothing to worry about, is there?" he said strangely.

"Meaning?"

Skye smiled shyly. "You said you always dreamed about having sex
with a boy. I'm willing if you are. No one would ever know," he
added hesitantly.

"Except, remember what I said about being in love first?" I
answered testily.

Again he shrugged. "What makes you think I don't already love
you? Maybe I love you more than anyone else in the whole world?
Maybe I never had the chance to tell you before?"

I laughed. "You have an answer for everything, don't you?"

Skye nodded eagerly, sensing that my resistance was faltering. "I
promise I won't tell."

I had started out with a plan to seduce him. Now, the roles
appeared to have been turned upside down. I was fighting to
resist. I patted his bare upper thigh, caressing skin that was
unbelievably soft. He was warm and so alive that my fingertips
tingled with the barest touch. A stranger at his school
performance named him for what he was. He was a 'pussy boy'. He
was merely obeying an instinctive need. No matter that it was
true, even that Skye had gone into the toilet of his own
volition, I still hated that man.

A few inches away from my fingers was the treasure of his
boyhood. It lured me onward. I felt my lust growing beyond my
control.

"We,... can't," I started to say.

I watched his face begin to crumble. He wanted physical contact
with me, just as much as I needed to be with him. Yet, it was
more than lust and the hunger for physical gratification. I did
love him, and I believed he loved me back. I breathed out.
Seconds ticked past. I tried to slow my racing mind, yet every
time I looked at him, I realized sex was inevitable.

His penis was limp, and had been since our discussion turned
serious. Now, while I gazed at him, and felt the same deep
affection and longing in his eyes, I saw the miracle of erection
begin. It was a magical transformation, made even more remarkable
when his fingers lightly stroked the side of his penis and
retracted his foreskin.

Two words described the essential characteristics: small and
hard. If measured along the top, which became the bottom as it
stiffened and rose into the air, it was no longer than three
inches, and probably shorter if a ruler was actually applied to
it. The thickness varied slightly along the length. Beginning
with a blue-purple hued glans about the size of my thumbnail, the
flared helmet narrowed slightly before the precious boy-sized
organ swelled to its maximum thickness, not even three-quarters
of an inch. In his God-given uncircumcised state, the skin was
pulled very tight, enough to give a polished sheen. It actually
looked hard enough to be painful, but it did not appear to unduly
bother Skye.

His testicles were nothing to write home about. If size was
important, he had something about the size of a bean. They made
slight indentation sin the loose folds of his still-relaxed
scrotum. It advertised his immaturity even more than the complete
absence of pubic hair. Yet, when all was considered I had to
admit that it was Skye's hairlessness that enraptured me. His
youthful perfection was emphasized by absolute smoothness. My
other lovers had bushes of varying degrees, most dark and
curling, and clearly well on the way to manhood, if not fully
mature. Skye was different in a way that left me wordless. His
groin was slightly mounded with the slightest hint of puppy fat
before the lean muscles of his lower belly began. At ten years
old, he already possessed a well-defined abdomen. Dancing kept
him very fit.

"You're so beautiful," I sighed. A smile flashed across his
face. "And I love you very much." He beamed. "Come here," I said
gently.

He was warm and soft and I gathered his bare body back into my
outstretched arms, cradling him like a small child. He lay
quietly, content to be hugged closely.

"I love you so much," I whispered into his nearest ear. Tenderly,
I licked his lobe, then tugged on the tiny gold ring with my
lips.

"I love you back."

His response was what I needed to hear more than anything else.
It confirmed what had gone unspoken between us since we arrived
in Florida. Happiness overwhelmed me. At last, I felt complete.
The boy I loved, loved me back.

Skye's eyes closed. My nose was close to his tousled mane and I
inhaled the perfumed scent that lingered in his freshly shampooed
hair. I eased him back, guiding him so that he turned onto his
front with his buttocks over my thighs. Lovingly, my hand
caressed his lower back, my fingertips trickling over the small
bumps of his vertebrae. There was another smell, sweet and
aromatic that I recognized as the smell that I had noticed every
time that I exercised his anus. It was his smell.

My fingers flowed down his flank, stroking his rounded buttocks,
coming ever closer to the source of the distracting smell. My
thumb followed the dividing line, pressing between the firm
cheeks, into a warm moist crevice. I felt Skye tremble. My other
hand moved to the side, placed flat on the rounded hemisphere,
fingers pressing into the flesh, splitting him apart. His anus
glistened with a greasy film. It looked as though it had been
anointed for a holy purpose. Silently I worshipped his
perfection, engaged in a close study of the dime-sized dimpled
opening centered in a circle of darker flesh. Given what I knew
had been attempted him, I could not help but wonder again whether
the tiny hole revealed before me could stretch wide enough for a
man-sized penis to enter. That his anus also lacked the
appearance of a virgin gave me an uncomfortable feeling. From
what he had told me, the man's attempt to penetrate had not
succeeded, yet I still resentful. I could not change what had
happened. Neither of us could go back in time.

There was no pucker to be seen in Skye's small anus. After his
earlier exercise, the rim was still slack and slightly puffy. It
had borne the brunt of penetration by his fingers, and then by
mine. However, it would be long before it resumed its natural
tautness. In that way, he was ready. He had been entered only by
foreign objects introduced by his own hand, and now he was ready
for hard human flesh. There, in a place that was the most private
of all places, he would never again be like most other boys his
age.

"What are you doing back there?" Skye asked breathily.

"What do you think? I'm looking at your beautiful little ass," I
grinned.

"Why?"

I resisted the impulse to kiss his butt and leaned forward to
bring my lips close to his ear. "Because I want to, Skye. That's
why," I answered softly. "Because it's a beautiful part of you
that I've never really looked at before."

I heard the husky tone in my voice, as breathless and excited as
Skye. I felt my heart begin to beat faster, adrenaline surging
through my arteries, becoming increasingly skittish. My thumb
pressed inward and Skye shivered. Although he was very quiet, I
could tell that he was agitated. When he felt his anus give way
easily, he jumped. There was very little resistance in him, not
even slowing my ingress when my finger quickly passed beyond the
first joint. Then out again, lightly scratching the sensitive rim
with my fingernail before tracing circles around the opening.
There was sufficient lotion that the motion was lubricated, but
not enough to go further without applying force.

"Where's the hand lotion, Skye?" I asked, glancing around the
bed.

He laughed. "I think I'm lying on it. What do you want it for?"

"What do you think I want it for?"

I slid one hand between Skye and the bed, groping his bare skin
at the same time as I searched for the little plastic bottle with
the rounded cap. He started to giggle, twisting under my tickling
fingers. My hand pursued its objective relentlessly, working ever
closer to his crotch. He was very stiff and the sudden warmth of
his little penis made me quiver with excitement. He wriggled,
lifting his hips up higher to give me unfettered access. Clearly,
he wanted more. Instead, I continued to feel around underneath
him until the bottle was in my grasp. I wasted no time squeezing
out most of the remaining cream into the deep valley between his
butt-cheeks. Again my fingers began to fondle the tender opening,
now gliding on the added slipperiness.

Skye lay very still, his head cradled on his bare slender arm. I
had no doubt that he was enjoying my massage, but would he enjoy
what I was about to do next. One finger probed at his opening
again, testing the resilient muscle's resistance. He tensed
slightly, not fighting against it, just nervous. I pushed gently,
yet firmly. He winced when he felt my finger penetrate deeper.

"Okay?"

"Uh huh," he breathed.

"Does it hurt?"

"Uh uh."

"Do you like it?"

"Hm,...."

"What does 'hm' mean? You can't make up your mind so you have to
think about it?" I teased.

"It means put it in deeper," Skye said boldly. He lifted his head
up and regarded me lewdly. "Of course I fucking like it."

I grinned back at him, finding his obscenity incredibly arousing.
One look at his face was enough to know what he wanted. His
buttocks tensed, his hot anus pulsing loosely around my finger.
He pushed back, very deliberately. At the same time I slowly
pushed against him. My finger sank into him, sliding on the
creamy film that slicked his crack and covered my forefinger.
There was no resistance other than a pleasant welcoming pressure,
then beyond the faintly muscular band of his sphincter he opened
up. Hot, wet, luscious heat engulfed me. Apparently, his own
practice sessions had prepared him. He pushed up at me with
intentional force, driving my finger in until my knuckles were
compressed into his bottom. I felt his anal muscle working
urgently, contracting, releasing, almost sucking. I curled my
finger and pressed towards his belly in the search for his
prostate. He wriggled again, repositioning himself. His buttocks
tensed, flexing like rubber, tightening on my finger, squeezing.

"There?" I asked.

"Uh, yeah, there,.... no,... God!" He squeaked. "Yes, yes,
there!" he gasped.

He twitched, then shuddered. I forced my finger against the
delicate lining of his rectum, pressuring the organs beyond his
intestine. Suddenly, Skye bucked, his legs writhing in a vain
attempt to escape the sensations that burst from deep inside him.

"Jesus! Oh! Ohhhh! Oh God!"

"Better than a toy hammer, huh?" I teased.

"Yeah! yeah! Much better! It feels so good!" Skye shuddered, no
longer able to control his body's spasms.

The jerking thrusts came quickly, erratic and increasingly
urgent. I leaned forward, bringing my lips close to his ear.

"What do you want me to do?" I whispered.

"Faster," Skye groaned. "Do it faster and deeper,... and hard. As
hard as you can," he grunted.

I felt his insistent sphincter endeavoring to clamp down on my
finger despite the fact that much of its strength had been
dissipated. I felt the luscious inner heat of his bowels, the
soft void sucking, encompassing, yet demanding to be filled with
something much bigger than a finger. His breathing was ragged,
quick gasps interspersed with whimpers that conveyed dire need. I
complied with his request, jerking my finger back and forth as
hard and fast as I could.

"Uhhhhohhhhhahhhhhdaaaaaa."

I felt his body straining, every muscle obeying an instinctive
urge to achieve orgasm. He was very close, but I was a long way
from allowing him to climax. I grinned, slowing my pace to gentle
rubbing of his now fully dilated anus. His anus sucked noisily
against my finger, excreting a yellowish slime of glistening
lubricant. I pushed my finger in further, deeper and deeper until
my knuckles were lodged in his widespread crack. I lifted up,
mercilessly compressing his sensitive prostate.

"What are you, Skye?" I asked crudely. "Tell me what you are?"

"I'm a pussy-boy," Skye groaned.

"What's a pussy-boy do for fun?" I taunted. I eased my finger
back until only the first half inch was embedded.

"He fucks!" Skye gasped. "God! Don't take it out!" As if further
explanation was required, he added, "He puts a man's cock all the
way inside his pussy, and he gets fucked."

"You're a little faggot, Skye," I whispered in his ear. "This is
what you want, isn't it?" I asked, twisting my finger deeper
again until it rammed into Skye's prostate.

"N-n-ng-g-g,....arghhhh,... Ohhhh! Y-y-essss."

He squirmed and nodded emphatically. The pressure of my finger
against his prostate increased. "What do you want me to do?" I
whispered. "Tell me!"

"I want your cock all the inside my boy-pussy. I want you to fuck
me. I want you to fuck me again and again!" he rasped
breathlessly. "Oh God! Feels soooo good."

"You want your boy-pussy fucked?" I teased. "You want me to fuck
you, don't you Skye?"

Skye nodded. He had heard the words before, the dirty words that
Martin used, the words that made his heart pound until he was
shaking with excitement. With martin, in his expensive designer-
label clothes, the words, like now, were out of place. However,
the sex words turned him on, overpowering any resistance he might
have had. He wanted to comply with my demands, just as he had
wanted to to comply with Martin's demands. He wanted to be held
tightly, to feel the brute unforgiving power of a man's penis
when it penetrated his slim body for the first time, and he
wanted so much to find out what it meant to be gay. However, with
me he knew he would also be loved, that he was doing it because
he loved and was loved in return. That, and that alone made it
right. He nodded, again and again, finally overwhelmed by a
consuming urge. It had been ignited by other men over the last
year and without warning it had exploded into a raging inferno
with the man he had always considered to be his father. He could
remember someone saying that he would 'live to be fucked', but he
could not remember who said it. It was true. He took a deep
breath, offering himself to the man who had always loved him. He
felt it going in, not hurting, reaching deeper and deeper,
filling him up until he was ready to explode. He felt the pain
slowly fading, until there was nothing left except mind-numbing
joy. Without thinking, he gave himself up to the feelings,
gasping, grunting, groaning until it was over, and then he fell
asleep, happier than he had ever been.





Room 262 Worldview Hotel, Orlando. June 13th, 2000



I woke up both happy and horny. There was something deeply
satisfying about sleeping with a young boy. A young boy has an
endearing quality that teenagers just don't have. Adolescents are
very different to those boys for whom puberty is still in the
offing. Teenagers have more confidence, more self-awareness, and
a way of shrugging off every one else's needs but their own.
Perhaps it was Skye's need for a father's love that brought him
into my arms, instinctively seeking my protective security. Maybe
he just wanted to have sex with a man. It no longer mattered. Our
relationship had changed. I no longer thought of him as my son,
but as something infinitely more than that. I was grateful for
his company. It had been the best night of my life. Although he
tended to wriggle around and insisted on taking the left side of
the bed, it was a small price to pay. Through the simple act of
making love to him, I had become fulfilled.

Sex with Skye was infinitely more satisfying than anything I had
ever experienced. Perhaps it was merely his acceptance that I had
something that he needed in order to be fulfilled. It was mutual.
Although I could claim his virginity, my role in teaching him
about sex was only partial. IT mattered little. That Skye needed
me was enough to make me feel worthy of sharing his body. He was
a shy, curious little boy who had just made the greatest
discovery of his life and still wasn't quite sure of what to do
about it.

Skye lay side on facing me, his head nestled into my shoulder.
His cheek was hot and ever so slightly moist against my upper
arm, his nose nuzzled into my armpit as if absorbing my masculine
scent. Knowing what I had done to his body, what I had taken from
him, increasingly, I thought of him as androgenous. Yet I
possessed the ability to make him whole. I had become his man,
his lover.

His breathing was relaxed, taking deep sonorous breaths that
restored my faith that he was content at last. He was dreaming.
Every so often he would twitch, his breathing would accelerate,
then gradually slow. He seemed to tense whenever I stirred. His
right arm was draped across my chest, jerking sporadically as if
he was trying to move something that was bothering him, or making
me aware that I could not move away more than a few inches.

Despite the fact that I had an erection that demanded my
attention, I was more than happy to let him sleep. For the first
time in many years my immediate problems seemed to have faded.
There was still his mother to deal with. I had called her after
Skye fell asleep. I withheld the full nature of the toilet
incident, especially the details of what had been done to him.
She knew only that he had gone into the rest rooms with a man and
had received sexual advances. It came as no surprise to his
mother. Eventually, I would have to tell her more of what had
happened to Skye, but it could wait until after the summer was
over. Until then, she would know only that I been able to deal
with it and Skye was getting over it. I would tell her the truth
only if I had to return him to her care. Until then, we would be
together. If it was up to me, Skye would stay with me forever and
she would never know what a stranger had done to her son. There
was no way to change what had been done to him. Already I found
myself accepting the inevitability of it. If not that man,
someone else would have come along sooner or later and tried to
take his innocence. It was simply a matter of time.

And then, there was the memory, such a powerful unremitting
memory of what had occurred during the night. Had it really
happened? It had, of course. Even if I guiltily pretended it had
been a dream, there was no mistaking the lingering smell that
emanated from under the comforter. Each time when I became aware
of the odor, I inhaled deeply just to make sure it was real. It
was Skye's smell, primal, fecal, musky. It was the earthy odor
from deep inside him, the smell of sweat, and male juices, the
smell of semen, of long hard sex. With it, came the memory of the
hot, slick wetness inside him, his weakened yet remarkable muscle
grabbing at me hungrily every time that I nurtured his body.

If it had only been one time it might have been possible to
overlook it, pretend it had never happened, go on with our lives
in a relatively normal way. I could still be the father he
wanted. However, it hadn't been one time. Love was released and
it swept over us like a consuming fire-storm that left nothing
behind except the undeniable knowledge that we loved each other.
We made love throughout the long hours of the night. Yes, it was
love. It wasn't just a matter of animals fucking to release pent-
up urges. It was fulfilling, exchanging sensations, whispering
needs, giving everything, mutual pleasuring, and fun. We would
never be the same again.

I smiled to myself, thinking of Skye's face, not simply a smile
but beaming with joyful happiness. His eyes were serious with
intent, yet so intense that he looked into my soul and saw me for
what I really was. I also saw myself reflected in his liquid
pools, knew that everything had changed between us. We were no
longer father and son, not that we ever truly were related by
blood. We were becoming one being, joined so completely that
there was no way of separating us, certainly not of determining
exactly where in our physical union, Skye's body began and mine
ended. Each time I left my love inside him, I felt even more love
grow between us. I had never known that such love could exist,
passion yes, but not a love so strong that I felt an overpowering
need to have him beside me forever.

Had I hurt him even a single time, if he had shown even the
slightest trace of pain, it would have ended right there and
then. There was discomfort at first, there was no denying it.
What ten year-old boy would not feel discomfort with seven inches
of hard flesh contained inside his rectum. He had experienced the
full length and thickness of an adult penis so deep in his bowels
that only the taut knot of my bulging scrotum prevented further
penetration. However, he loved me, and I loved him back, and no
discomfort could take that away.

His exhilaration was matched by his shameless exclamations that
attended each frenzied orgasm. We rutted as equals until he had
no more to give and I was too exhausted to continue. Only then,
when we were fully spent did I allow him to fall back into the
bed in the tangle of sheets. He smiled at me enigmatically, a
look that said he knew he was mine. It was a look that conveyed
his inner happiness, a look that said he now had everything that
he wanted. Neither of us worried about the mess we had created,
the streaks on the bed, the wetness that oozed between us. We
were too exhausted to care.

Only then did Skye sleep, though it was far from soundly. It
would never be possible for him to have the sound night-long
sleep of a child again, not with me lying beside his naked body.
At times his breathing became erratic, huffing and practically
snoring until he changed position and settled closer to me. Then,
he passed from the dream, or was it the virulent memory of four
hours of sometimes violent sex, into a deep sleep where I had to
press my fingers to his chest to feel his ever-so-slight motion
and convince myself that his heart was still beating. I woke
several times during the night. Once, my penis itched so badly
that it was all I could do not to get out of bed and rinse it
clean. Instead, I put up with it rather than risk waking him up,
scratching at the stickiness of drying semen and hand lotion and
the fluids that had come from deep inside him.



I had never woken up next to a young naked boy before. When Skye
woke up, he woke up sexually aroused. It stuck out straight,
pointing into my thigh. It was not a matter of a piss- hard-on.
His final dream, whatever it was, saw to that. He muttered in his
sleep, something about `take them off'. Interesting, given that
he was already naked, otherwise I would have helped him out. A
moment later, he grunted. Then I felt it. His penis poked against
my side deliberately. He wriggled closer, pushing it into me like
a little finger. His voice was a sleepy purr.

"Fuck me."

"Huh?"

"Fuck me, Dad."

"You aren't properly awake yet."

"So? You can still fuck me, can't you."

I smiled. "What were you dreaming about?"

"Girls. What do you think?" He giggled.

"Somehow I doubt that very much." I laughed. There was no threat
that his dreams would ever be graced by girls.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Are you going to?"

"Am I going to fuck you?"

"Yeah."

"You're still too sleepy."

"That didn't stop you last night."

"Hm,... It didn't, did it? Aren't you sore?"

"A bit. I don't care."

"Maybe I do care about your butt."

"It isn't your butt, is it?"

"That's where you're wrong. After last night it belongs to me
from now on."

Skye giggled again. "I like belonging to you."

"You don't! Only your dick and this belongs to me."

I squeezed his buttocks lovingly, rubbing my fingers into his hot
moist crack, searching. Was it possible that what I felt was his
anus? It did not seem right. Buried between the firm rubber of
his cheeks, it was so soft that it was like a little mouth, a wet
and hungry mouth that was demanding my attention, wanting to be
fed.

"I wan you t'fuck me," Skye yawned. "Please."

"That's better, Skye. At least you said please that time. Okay, I
will, but I want you to tell me if it hurts."

"Yeah, I know. The same as last night. I haven't forgotten. I
don't mind if it hurts."

"Maybe it won't hurt as much," I said hopefully.

"It didn't hurt much at all the last time we did it. I think he's
made my hole bigger."

"Okay, turn over and face the wall, Beautiful. Are you sure you
want this?"

"Na! I changed my mind. I think I'll get some breakfast first,"
he giggled teasingly.

"Very funny. Where in the hell is the hand stuff?"

"Wherever the hell you left it. You used it last-. Youch! Hey,
what was that for?"

"What do you think?"

"You can't get a stiffie?"

"Very funny. You'll be sorry when I find it, Skye."

"Why?"

"Because I'm really horny this morning."

"Good! So am I."

"Okay, I got it. Pull your legs up to your tummy. Okay, now put
your hands back here and split that beautiful butt wide open for
me. Jesus, it smells like a brothel under the sheet."

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it. I'll explain later."

"Eeech. Gross."

"What's wrong?"

"It's cold."

"Sorry! I think you'll live."

"Mmmm,... That's better. Hey Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"What are we going to do after breakfast?"

"Don't know. I have to meet Mr. Hale again today for lunch.
That's all I have planned for today. It was a pity he blew me off
two days ago. Apparently his secretary screwed up and put the
wrong day in his calendar."

"Two days,... That was when,...."

"Yeah, I know. Today, you'll come with me. I don't want you
wandering around by yourself."

"I think I'll skip breakfast if you keep doing that. He feels so
good. Isn't he the guy you were talking to on the phone
yesterday?"

"My you're talkative in the mornings, aren't you? Yes. He's wants
to hire me to work on a series for next season. He's producer for
one of the Mouse companies."

"Oh! Yeah... that feels so good."

"I hope so. I would have thought you'd be really sore after last
night."

"It is a bit. It feels looser already."

"I can't imagine why."

"I can. You've got your finger stuck up my butt."

"It'll be two fingers if you don't stop wriggling around."

"I can't help it. Any way, two's even nicer....."

"Like this?"

"Oh, Ahhh,... Uh. That's better. Deeper, okay?... Yeeoouuch."

"Okay?"

"Yeah. Let me get used to it a second. No! Don't pull back. Move
them around!"

"Like this?"

"Yes, like that. Now back and forth."

"You really like being finger-fucked, don't you? I expect I'll
have to do this to wake you up every morning from now on," I
mused as I rotated and plunged my fingers in a slow sensuous
rhythm. His anus was like a rubber band around two of my fingers
while the walls of his inner rectum were smooth and sleek, and
very slippery.

"Only if we do it afterwards," Skye gasped.

"I think that can be arranged. I think you're turning into a sex-
crazed catamite."

"What's a catamite?"

"Hm. A catamite is a boy who is kept for sex."

"Kept for sex, you mean by a man?"

"Of course by a man. A boy with a dick your size certainly isn't
much use to a woman when you think about it."

"Yeah, I kind of see what you mean. So I'm your catamite?"

"No, you're my sex-crazed catamite."

"Okay! I can go along with that. It feels a lot bigger back there
now," Skye hinted.

"You got any ideas what you want to do today?"

"We could do it again and again."

"You don't want to spend another day at Mouse Land?"

"God no! I was so bored yesterday."

"Maybe we can try the Animal place. What do they call the new
Park?"

"Uh! I forget, but I know what this is." Skye giggled. He stroked
the tip of my penis with his fingers. "He feels so nice. He's so
hot. Bit lower! Oh! Yeah! That's it! Yeah! Mmmm,... You can put
him in me whenever you want."

"You ready?"

"Uh huh. He's awfully hard this morning."

"I wonder why? Slowly?"

"Uh huh. Go real slow. That's his head I can feel already, isn't
it."

"Hurts huh?"

"Not much. Go slow `cause I wanna feel him going in."

"What's it feel like?"

Giggling. "Strange. It's like I'm pooping in reverse."

"Very funny. Maybe you'll grow up to be a comedian."

"He's so big. Mmmm,... Yeah,... Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I love you back."

"Just my back? Because that's where my butt is?"

"I love all of you."

"Fuck!"

"What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

"Na! I just thought of something, that's all."

"What?"

"Geez, he's big. Uh! Oh God! I was trying to imagine what he'd
would say if he knew what we were doing."

"Hm,... Robert? I don't know. He's such a pain in the ass. Try to
push back a bit. Not so hard. I don't want you hurting yourself.
There's no rush."

"It doesn't hurt any more. Sheez! More! Yeah! Keep doing that!
Man I can really feel him going in there now. Whoa. There he
goes!"

"Okay?"

"Give me a second to get used to having him all the way in. Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Pull back a bit."

"Okay?"

"Okay. Now, I'm ready."

"I'll go slow."

"Not too slow. Try to keep him in deep. If feels better like
that."

"Why?"

"Why do you think?"

"Don't know. Maybe it has something to do with this."

"Oh shit! Don't! Fuck! Oh! Yes! Yes! Yes!"

"Bull's eye, huh?"

"Yeah! Oh shit! That's so wild, right there. It's where my
prostate is, isn't it?"

"Must be. I'm surprised you remembered that from last night."

"I'm a fast learner. God, he feels so big."

"I love it when you get noisy."

"Yeah, that's so good! It's awesome."

"Here?"

"Oh! Yeah-yeah-yeah! Right there. Do it there."

"Like this?"

"Yeah! Oh God! Jesus! Fuck!"

"You like it here? You want it this way, huh?"

"I like it any way. Just go slow for a while."

"I kind of figured that out for myself."

"Oh fuck! God! Faster!" Pleading.

"I know. This fast enough for you?"

"Per-perfect." Gasping. "You want me to talk dirty again?"

"Uh huh."

"I'm really glad I'm your pussy-boy."

"So am I. I'm goign to call you 'Cat' from now on. Is that the
best you can do?"

"It's hard to con-concentrate. Ee-oo-aa-oo-aa-ah. G-o-o-o-d! I
really love having your cock in my boy-cunt. I want you to fuck
me hard. I need him in my ass so bad. I want to be your catamite
from now on."

"Better, `cause you've got all of it now. Stop squeezing on it
for a bit!"

"Why? O-o-o-h! Oh God! Don't you like it?"

"Of course I like it. I'm going to cum in you any second if you
don't stop."

"So? That's the whole point,... of fucking."

"You better stop that or we'll both be sorry."

"Deeper! Please, Dad. Do it harder. Do it faster!"

"Are you sure?"

"Oh, oh, Jesus! Faster! Do it real fast."

"God, Skye! Stop squeezing! No!"

"Can't help it.Can't!!! Going to cum! Oh fuck!"

"That's the general idea. I thought you said you wanted it fast.
You better stop that or,..."

"Aawwhhfaaauck!"

Skye made the strangest sounds when he climaxed. His pre-teen
body shuddered with vicious spasms, his rectum clamping,
compressing, pushing, pulling my penis into him while his legs
flailed and his pelvis bucked wildly. I felt his penis jerking,
not with the full force of maturity but with such rapidity and
intensity that ejaculation was irrelevant to his pleasure. After
four or five spasms within half as many seconds, I cupped the
throbbing organ under my palm, holding it captive until his
orgasm was finished and he subsided enough to regain his senses.
His gasping faded to slow deep breaths.

"It feels really strange holding your tiny balls," I crooned.
"They're so small, it's just like little marbles."

"They're babies, so they like being held," he said childishly.

I fondled Skye gently, ever careful not to squeeze too hard. His
scrotal skin was so delicate that I could not actually feel it,
except when it was wrinkled the way the way it was at that
moment. Usually, I sensed it between my fingers from its moist
heat. Anyone who has touched a ten-year-old's scrotum knows
exactly what I am talking about.

"You're a lucky boy, Cat," I said after nearly a minute of
comforting him in his sleepy satisfied bliss.

"I know. I was pretty dumb, wasn't I?"

"Going into the toilet with him wasn't the smartest thing you've
ever done, that's for sure, Skye. You could have been killed."

"Yeah, I know. He's getting soft, now and you didn't even cum in
me."

"Not so soft that I can't finish what I started."

Skye giggled, feeling my careful flexing movement inside him. "I
bet I can get him hard again before you count to sixty."

"A full minute? How about thirty?"

"Hm, don't know! I can try?"

"Are you always going to be like this?"

"Like what?"

"So horny in the morning."

"Don't know. I'm just the way I am. Don't you like it?"

"I love it."

"Do you love me, Dad?"

"You know the answer to that as well as I do."

"Yeah, I know. Why don't you prove it to me?"

"I should make love to you again? Is that it?"

"Uh huh. If you want me to I can squeeze on him a bit until he's
hard again?"

"Let's take a break for a while. Skye?"

"Yeah?"

"You know you'll do it again with some other man eventually,
won't you?" I asked.

"Yeah, I guess."

I felt him tense up, drawing away slightly, but not far enough
that he would break the flesh-bond we shared. We were still
joined. Neither of us would do anything to separate us, either
physically or emotionally, not after what we had been through
together. We had achieved a mutual dependence. Together, we could
survive. The several inches of my penis that remained inside
Skye's rectum provided a connection that could not be challenged.

"You know, the next time you might not be quite so lucky," I said
abruptly.

Skye shrugged dispassionately. It was hard for him to acknowledge
his mistake.

"I,... I know,... I know that. Only I won't. I won't ever do it
again, okay?"

"No, it's not okay, Skye. Why can't you understand?" I asked
cheerlessly.

Skye was quiet for a long while. I was about to say something, if
only to break the silence. He chewed at his bottom lip, a sure
sign that he was very nervous. His hands fumbled awkwardly with
the corners of the pillow that lay beneath his head.

"I won't. Why can't you trust me?"

"I understand what it's like, Skye," I said slowly.

Skye sighed. He took a deep breath. "No you don't."

I knew what he was feeling. Once awakened, the need did not go
away. Until now, we had not talked about it. "I know what it's
like, Skye. I've been there."

"So I can't tell you anything you don't already know," Skye
replied adamantly.

"Are you afraid of something?" I asked.

Skye nodded his head slightly. "What" I prompted.

Skye was scared, even if a certain part of his body was not. His
penis was still standing to attention, and demanding attention.
It was no longer than my thumb and nearly as hard.

"I know most of what you did with him. Is whatever else that
happened so bad?"

He breathed out slowly, thoughtfully. "At first it was fun. Then,
when he wanted to put it in my butt, well I guess it got out of
hand. I couldn't stop myself. I was so scared and it hurt, but I
still wanted to do it. I'm sick inside."

"Do you really think so?" I asked seriously. "Some gays are like
that. I think it goes with the territory, being promiscuous."

"That's the second time you said that. What's promisuous?"

"It's promiscuous, Skye," I corrected. "It means doing it with
anyone who comes along. Some gays hang out in places like
restrooms to have sex with anyone who comes along. They aren't
particular. I guess another word is wanton. They can't get
enough."

"I wanted to suck his cock even after he,..." He winced. His
silence was shameful. "Stuff like that."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not now. I can't help it, Dad. Everything I think about, it's
like that! It's dirty stuff, things I shouldn't do, but I still
want to do them so much I can't stand it."

"Skye, I really do understand. Like I said, I think it's part of
being gay for some people. It doesn't change that I love you, and
I'll still love you even if you do something like this again.
However, you're ten years old. You're not old enough to do things
like that."

"Except with you, huh?"

"Yeah, well let's not go down that road right now."

"I can't stop, Dad. I don't know why but I know it. I get so
excited inside."

"Do you want to be badly hurt one day? Because you will be hurt
sooner or later, Skye. Eventually, you'll meet up with someone
who enjoys hurting boys. trust me, they're out there."

"Yeah, but I just can't stop thinking about it, that's all!" he
said with finality.

"Okay." I took a deep breath.

It was now or never. For a few times during the two days I
considered doing nothing. Like Skye, I could try to forget the
entire thing had ever happened. Maybe, eventually, I'd be able to
look at myself in the mirror and not loathe myself for making a
decision that put my welfare before his. However, the memory of
that afternoon when I found Skye beside the fountain was still
too strong.

"Skye, what if I could help you?"

"How?" he asked.

I felt my heart lurch with anticipation. At least he was curious
enough not to dismiss the proposition.

"I don't know yet. What would you like to do with the man you met
in the toilet if you had the chance?" I asked nervously.

"I,... I'm not sure. Part of me still wants to have sex with
him."

"You must really like big dicks!" I laughed.

"Do you hate me?" he asked suddenly.

"No, of course I don't. I would hate anyone who hurt you. You
can't help the way you are."

"Then what am I going to do about it? I hate being like this."

"We'll have to find a way for you to control it. If you want me
to, I can call Mr. Hale and postpone the lunch meeting. We can go
to the rest room together. I'll wait outside. I won't enjoy it,
Skye, but I'll do it to make sure you're safe."

"I,... I,...." Skye paused, uncertainty and curiosity reflected
in his beautiful face. "You'd do that for me?" I nodded. "I love
you, Dad," he admitted softly.

I turned away from Skye and onto my side, barely aware that some
time during our talk, my penis had slipped from its hot wet home.

"Now what?"

"Huh?" I said vaguely, still thinking.

"Now what?"

His prepubescent voice brought me back to face the reality of my
relationship with Skye. I hopped out of bed and went over the
table next to the window. I picked up my laptop computer, made
sure that it was still plugged into the outlet, and came back to
the bed. On the way, I picked up a bath towel that had dropped to
the floor.

"Here," I grinned. "I think you need it more than I do."

Skye grinned back at me. "Who me? Maybe I am pretty messy back
there, but whose fault is it?"

"Mine, I reckon. I guess we should be glad that you're still too
young to come, otherwise there'd be even more mess. However, it's
your butt so you get to clean it up."

He made a wry face. Under different circumstances there was
nothing I would rather have done at that moment than clean him
up, and not with a towel. I had licked his hindquarters clean at
some point during the night, although exactly when I had no idea.
Now, attractive as the proposition was, I had other things on my
mind. In fact, my mind was racing.

"I thought you said my ass belonged to you from now on," Skye
asked teasingly.

"It does," I answered with a smile. "Do you want to take a shower
instead?"

"With you?" Skye suggested hopefully

"Not this time, you sexed-crazed monster. I'll take a rain-
check."

"Okay, but the offer's only good when I'm horny."

"That's a deal for tonight!"

"What do you need your computer for?" Skye asked curiously.

I grinned, amused how he was able to turn his sexual desire on
and off at will. At least he still had the attention span of a
child, if not a child's innocence.

"Wait and see," I said as I resumed my place in the bed next to
Skye.

"Are you going to do some more work?" he asked indifferently,
reaching over his hip and dabbing the edge of the towel between
his cheeks tentatively.

"Nope."

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"What happens now?"

"Now?" I prompted again. "You mean between us?"

"Yeah, that and,..."

"What are you going to do once the summer is over and you go back
home?" I finished. Skye nodded once. "I don't know. I haven't
decided yet but I have a few ideas. How's the back-door feel?" I
asked, changing the subject.

"It's okay." Skye shrugged. He lifted himself up slightly and
glanced underneath him. "You really made a mess last night
though," he said accusingly. "There's stains all over the sheets
where I was sleeping."

"Gross. Well, no one ever said that getting your butt fucked
didn't make a mess."

"What are we going to do? I could get some soap and water and try
to clean it up," he offered awkwardly.

"No. There's nothing to worry about, Skye. At the price they're
charging for the room, they ought to change the sheets everyday.
I'll throw the sheets in the bath-tub later on and tell the front
desk that you wet the bed."

Skye smirked. "Very funny. I guess I did in a way. Remember when
you pulled him out the last time."

"Uh huh."

It had been rather like pulling out a cork, made far worse by the
gas that had built up inside him. So much for the so- called
advantages of water-based lubricants, at least that was what it
said on the bottle of hand lotion. The sudden release of pressure
had blown out gobs of semen, foamy lotion, and mucus all over the
sheets. Cautiously, Skye probed between his buttocks, examining
the small opening with a fingertip.

"It's still really loose," he announced with something that could
easily be mistaken for pride.

I nodded. "I can't imagine why."

"Do you think it'll ever get tight again?"

"Not if we keep doing what we did last night," I said with a
grin. "Don't worry. It'll close up by itself if we don't do it
again for a while."

"So it's just from this morning?"

"I expect so," I answered. "Does it bother you?"

"I don't care if it stays loose, just so long as I don't have to
use that dumb-assed bowling pin again."

I could not be sure what Skye was talking about. I expected that
his toys included things besides the toy-hammer. The contoured
surface of a bowling pin would offer certain advantages that made
it's use very attractive. It thrilled me to think how far he
might be able to get a bowling pin inside him. After what I had
been able to do during the night, I would have bet the farm that
he could get considerably more now.

>From my experience with Paul, I knew that Skye's sphincter would
probably recover most of its ability by the time he got out of
bed, assuming that we did not do it again. He was a fit, healthy
boy and I had not doubts that the muscle would be able to close
his anus properly if we did not overdo it. However, I also
realized that unless he exercised caution with his partners it
would not be long before he would have such poor muscle tone that
he would sometimes experience leakage and difficulty in passing
stools. That was part of the price he would be being the passive
partner.

"Well, what do you think?" I asked, gesturing to the small
thumbnails that covered most of the monitor.

"Jesus! That's what we did, right there" Skye said gleefully. His
attention was riveted on the monitor.

His finger moved to point to a thumbnail that I had always
considered one of my favorites. I clicked on the image, bringing
it to full size and nearly covering the screen. The thick, dark
shape of a man's penis was now very visible. It was poised just
before the entry to a small anus. The absence of hair and the
small rounded scrotum confirmed the impression that the recipient
was a boy about Skye's age.

"Kewl," Skye said with shameless delight. "Is his dad going to
fuck him?"

The immediate assumption of father and son provoked a smile.
"More than likely. How would you like to be in that boy's
position?" I asked.

"I don't know. It's looks big, doesn't it? I don't think it's
bigger than yours."

"How about your friend, Martin?"

"He's a lot bigger," Skye replied absently. He smiled weakly.

"How long did he try to get it up you, Skye?"

"It wasn't very long. For about five minutes, I guess."

"You know, Skye, if you relaxed and he took his time and used
lots of lube, he'd probably be able to get it in there. Your ass
can stretch a long way if you give it time. He rushed you, so you
probably tightened up."

Skye groaned. "I remember thinking that at the time. I can get
the bowling pin in a long way, but only if I'm patient. When I
sit down on it, it hurts a bit, but it always goes away in a few
minutes. I guess I realized something wrong was happening. I
wanted to do it so badly, but I didn't want him to be the one."

"That probably didn't help."

"He made lots of jabs, but he didn't seem to be going anywhere.
Then it started hurting more and more and finally I couldn't
stand it."

"That's how it is! I know it hurts if it's forced in."

"How do you know?"

"I was a kid once myself," I admitted.

"You did it with a grown up when you were a kid?" Skye asked
immediately.

"Let's just say I was pretty active before I reach my teens," I
said circumspectly.

Skye's finger slowly crept back away from the monitor. He smiled
up at me. He had always been a very observant child. "That's
you!"

I laughed. "Me?"

"Yes, it is. You're the kid in the picture!"

I raised my eyebrows in mock denial. Then I gave in. "Okay, I
admit it."

"He's pretty big. Did he use some lube?" Skye giggled. "I hope he
did or it would have really hurt."

I laughed again. "Yes, he used some lube. Vaseline, actually."

"It your first time, wasn't it?"

"How can you tell?"

"Because your hiney hole is so small. And it's not dark around
the edge."

"This was a before-shot. You want to see the afterwards one?" I
asked.

Skye nodded and I scrolled down the directory until I reached the
bottom. The poignant image that filled the screen was charged
with memories for me. I was eleven years old. The man was my
neighbor. The photographs were taken with a Polaroid camera. I
had only two of the photos, all of the others had gone in the
fire over the years. Yet, of the thousands of boy-sex images on
my computer, they were the two I most often looked at.

"Jesus!" Skye murmured in awe as soon as he recognized the
opening revealed between two thin brown legs. "It's huge. He had
it all the way inside you, Dad?"

"Yes," I acknowledged vaguely.

The picture always affected me. It was disturbing while erotic.
My anus was stretched wide, distended and crimson red. The
circular rim flowed seamlessly into a darker tube that looked to
be nearly an inch across. From inside the tube, a dribble of
yellowish fluid oozed out onto my scrotum.

"Man, he got you good, Dad," Skye teased. "I bet you couldn't
stop farting for a week."

"More or less," I chuckled. "Vaseline makes it even worse. Of
course, you'll have the same problem after last night. We'll have
to buy some K-Y today if we don't want to gas the tourists
wherever we go."

"Very funny. Now what?" Skye asked, self-consciously fondling
his surprisingly hard penis.

"What do you want to do?"

"Can I see some more pictures on your computer?"

I laughed. "So you can get me horny. I think we ought to get out
of bed," I replied jovially. "You can look at the rest of the
photos later on. Maybe we can look at them tonight together," I
suggested. "They might give us a few ideas for things to do."

Skye smirked knowingly. "Dad? Earlier,... when we were talking
about what I did,... you said we might go back there?"

I felt his fingers manipulating my penis. I swallowed, trying to
convince myself that he was not becoming aroused about the
prospect of seeing the man again. However, he was, very excited.
I could hear it in his voice, the crackle of excitement, the
nervous movement as he slid his other hand downward, gripping the
skin hard enough that his foreskin retracted past his glans. It
was swollen and purple-colored. The tiny meatus opened like a
mouth, speaking. He turned onto his side, bringing our penises
together, letting them kiss. A thought came to me. I felt my
heart race, a surge of adrenaline, suddenly needing to breathe
deeply. The thought was enough to make my erection harder even
further. It was very likely that the man would not appear again,
but if he did, could I do it? The thought was all consuming, as
thrilling to me as Skye's mere anticipation of satisfying his
demanding urge. If I did do it, it would be only for Skye.

"Maybe. I don't know yet. I understand what it's like for you,
Skye. I want you to be happy."

"Then we can go?"

"He might not be there," I warned.

"But what if he is?"

"That's what I'm worried about. Maybe I should call Hale and
postpone today's lunch until dinner," I suggested.

"Thank you." His fingers tightened around my hardness. He
squeezed possessively.

"Skye, I'm not sure about this. However, if we go back to the
rest room, will you do what I tell you, Skye?" I asked seriously.

"I'll try my best," Skye said. "You really mean it? Maybe I'll
get to see him again?"

"Yes, that's what I mean."

"But? I don't understand. I thought you were angry. I mean,
well,... I,..."

"I was angry because you could have been hurt. It isn't safe,
Skye, to do stuff with strangers, at least not at your age."

"But gay guys do, don't they?" Skye asked abruptly. "That's what
you were talking about when you said I was promiscuous."

"I didn't say you were. I,..." I smiled. "I said you didn't have
to be like that. However, you're right when you say that some
gays are like that."

"I'm sorry I'm that way. I can't help being like this," he said
dejectedly.

"I know you can't help it. It's how you are. The important thing
is that I want you to be safe, Skye. If that means going with
you, then I will. I'll do whatever it takes. Anyway, I'd better
see if I can find Hale's phone number."

I reached into the drawer of the night stand that separated the
two beds and retrieved the telephone directory. Lying back, I
turned the pages quickly. Skye was very attentive, scanning the
alphabetical listing with me, his continuing excitement evident
in the vertical projection between his thighs. For some reason I
would have preferred it to be hidden under the sheet.

"Back a page," he announced hurriedly, when I reached 'Hammond'.

My hands shook, feeling clammy. Skye's first finger ran down the
line of names and stopped at 'Hale'. There were several Hale's,
only one with the initial `M'.

"I think that's him!" I said, remembering the first initial on
the letter I had received in May. For no reason at all, I had a
chilled feeling, a very strong feeling of deja-vu.

Skye's hand began to move up and down, rhythmically engaging the
entire rigid length with is thumb and first finger. He turned to
face me, smiling seductively.

"Are you horny again?" I teased.

"Yes!"

"So sexy, should I understand that to mean that you want to
finish what we started earlier?" I asked with a lewd smile.

"Uh huh. I want to be fucked properly this time. No stopping
until he comes in my butt."

"Oh?" I grinned at the boy. "What about your friend in the rest
room?"

"He can wait," Skye said adamantly. "I want you!"

"He can wait? Well, so can I," I said petulantly. It was time to
play 'cat and mouse' with him. "Let's get a shower."

I shoved the sheets back and swung my legs out of bed. With one
hand on Skye's right ankle, I dragged the giggling naked
youngster to the edge of the bed. He was easy to lift. His arms
hugged my neck, his face drawing to mine, eyes closing, lips
forming a kiss. When our mouths came together, his legs
automatically locked around my waist so that he was suspended,
even if I let go of him. Which, of course I did, only to caress
his slender back, from his sticky buttocks to the nape of his
neck. We tongue-kissed all the way into the bathroom. I deposited
him in front of the toilet and took a place beside him. It would
be a lie to say that we urinated together. Skye started first and
finished first, but for more than a few seconds we intersected
our streams. He was well-shaken and watching with fascination
when my final droplets emptied into the pool of now- amber-
colored water.

Soap, water, shampoo, and a wet wriggling boy provided more
entertainment than watching the World Series. I rinsed him at the
start and at the end, and in between he was covered with foamy
bubbles from head to foot. Then, grinning from ear to ear, Skye
took his turn. He showed great delight in examining my hairless
genitals, even offering to shave me again.

Without more warning than a few seconds of inactivity, he stuck
his first finger inside my anus and squirmed it around. I
relaxed, feeling his digit going deeper and deeper until it could
go no further. He lifted up, prodding for my inner gland and
then, amid a flurry of infectious giggles, began stabbing back
and forth. When I started to complain he slapped my butt with his
other hand and said, "'s only fair. You washed mine out."

Who was I to complain? It was quite enjoyable even if he was a
little inexperienced. Experience would come with practice, and I
followed my instincts, letting him experiment to his heart's
content. After a few minutes, I realized his motion had become
slower and more exaggerated, a rhythm that was intended to
produce pleasure. Although he was a fast learner, clearly he had
learned how to pleasure himself and was merely applying that
knowledge to me. I found myself wondering whether another part of
Skye's anatomy would eventually find its way inside me. If it
ever happened, it was still many years away.

However, all good things have to come to an end eventually. I
reached behind and stopped his hand. He beamed when I told him
that even though I was getting close to orgasm, we had other,
more important things to do. We toweled ourselves dry and quickly
dressed, stealing frequent and longing glances before our bodies
were clothed. It was all either of us could do not to jump back
into bed and resume what we had left unfinished. However, it was
not our empty stomachs demanding a different kind of nourishment,
that caused me to postpone our love-making. Rather, I had the
start of an idea, an idea that would give me a chance to ensure
that Skye's future would not be compromised. Continually, I
wondered whether I would be able to do what I would need to do
when the time came.

We picked up some coffee and half- a-dozen pastries at the hotel
restaurant. On the way out of the hotel, on an impulse, I
purchased a bright-red tank-top tee-shirt for Skye. He might as
well start showing off what he had. He changed in the car,
tossing his white 'Polo' shirt on the back seat. Dressed in
bright-blue shorts, white socks and sneakers, and his new top, he
looked very patriotic.

I called Hale's office from my cell phone as we drove towards the
Park. It was unfortunate but I could not cancel my luncheon
appointment. According to his secretary, Hale was very busy for
the next few days and he needed to see me urgently. I confirmed
the location for lunch and told Skye the bad news. He had already
guessed most of it from overhearing the conversation. I promised
Skye that we could go later on, or even the next day. He was very
disappointed, but there was nothing either of us could do about
it. Indeed, it was even possible that the man might also show up
before or after lunchtime. I agreed that Skye could wait there
after lunch.

I parked in the Mouse parking lot, shortly after ten o'clock.
There were already several hundred cars parked already, a sign of
the huge crowds to arrive before noon. I presumed they belonged
to the families who stayed in the Park resorts and were able to
take advantage of early admission. Skye regarded me with
uncertainty. I could see his apprehension, his fear, the ever-
present memory of what happened two days earlier. He was
incredibly excited. He breathed out slowly.

"If he's there,... Will you let me go into the can with him?"
Skye asked diffidently.

I shrugged. "I don't know. It's hard for me." I thought for a
moment. "Do you understand why?"

"I guess. At least I think so," he answered flatly. "You want me
to be safe, but you don't want to share me?"

"You've got it more or less right."

"Then,..." he broke of the thought and looked up at me. His smile
was endearing. "Will you go inside with me?"

"I don't know." I opened the car door. "No! I do know. Even if
you wanted to, you can't go in there by yourself, Skye."

"But! With you there,..."

"Don't try to change my mind. You're going to have lunch with me,
and then this time we'll wait together for an hour. If he shows
up, well, then we'll see. Maybe I'll talk with him first."

Skye gave me a weak smile, remembering the last time he had spent
a few hours by himself at the Park. He opened his door and got
out without answering.



Mouse World. International Park. 1.00 pm. June 13th, 2000

We were in the Park for about several hours before we settled
down and began to enjoy the rides.

"What's the time?" Skye asked as we strolled down Main Street
towards the lake that dominated the landscape.

"I'm getting hungry," I replied. "I guess it must be close to
lunchtime." I glanced at my watch. "Not wrong. I think we should
find the place where I'm supposed to meet Hale. His secretary
said it was around here somewhere."

We continued to walk, hand in hand. Although appearing to be a
father and son enjoying a day at the park, we were an unusual
couple in some respects. Skye's punk-style hair and skin-tight
tee-shirt drew attention to us. Frequently, I found myself giving
curious onlookers a glance that said 'fuck you'. There were a lot
of glances that lingered on Skye. Mostly men, a few teenagers,
even a couple of boys who were not much older than he was. They
were interested. Clearly, Skye was radiating that special quality
that many young gays come by naturally. One man, well-dressed in
an Italian-cut jacket, gave him a look that was more interested
than the others. He stopped and stared. His eyes dropped down,
assessing from a side-on view the compact bulge in Skye's shorts.
It did not make me feel unduly uncomfortable. Instead, I felt
proud. I hugged Skye to me and caressed his shoulder. For a few
moments our eyes met. The man was like me. He loved boys. I
smiled and squeezed Skye's small shoulder to show the man that
the boy was mine. He smiled back and nodded slightly, just as
Skye's head started to turn back from the performing "Mouse" and
"Duck that he had been watching. He watched the stranger
disappear into the crowd.

Skye was quiet for nearly a minute after the man had knowingly
returned my smile.

He looked up at me, grinning. "If you weren't here, do you think
he would be following me?"

I grinned down at the boy beside me. "Who?"

"The man back there."

"Him? I expect so. He was certainly giving you the 'look'."

"The look?"

"The same look I keep giving you."

"Oh that look. Like you can't keep your hands off me."

"Who me?"

"Yes you!" Skye said with a grin.

"That goes to show how little you know, you sex-starved
catamite."

"Who fucked me in the butt last night, huh? How many times was
it?"

"Um,... four, I think. Anyway, why are you so interested in other
men?" I teased.

"I don't know. Maybe because I get a kick out of making someone I
love jealous."

"Me?"

"Who else would I be talking about?"

For a moment I felt nauseous as I thought about another man doing
things to Skye in a public toilet. Then, I laughed. When I got
right down to it, the only thing I wanted Skye to know was how
much I loved him.

"Not me! I'm just feeling a bit hungry, that's all." I stopped in
front of the glass doors that opened into the Restaurant
Francais. " Anyway, we're here!"

I informed the receptionist that we had a reservation under the
name 'Hale'. He had apparently just arrived and was being
escorted to the table. She promptly beckoned a waitress and we
followed her back into the restaurant. It was a surprisingly
well-decorated establishment, complete with original artwork and
expensive furnishings. The food on the tables looked
exceptionally good. Finally, we turned into a glass-covered
atrium that overlooked a bubbling fountain. There were four
tables, only one of them was occupied. I led the way forward,
extending my hand in greeting as the man rose and started to
turn.

Of course I had to smile. It was the same man who had given Skye
the 'look' outside when he was watching the Mouse and Duck team.
I reached for his hand with an uncomfortable feeling that
something was wrong.

"Mr. Hale?"

"Indeed I am! And you must be Alex Ryder?"

"Yes!" We shook hands. "This is Skye," I added as I stepped
sideways and glanced behind me.

The look on Skye's face was something I would never forget.
Recognition, consternation, outright shock. His eyes were wide.
His face blanched. His jaw dropped and his mouth stayed open. I
swivelled back, finding an expression not all that different on
the man standing before me. Both Skye and Hale stared at each
other.

"Martin?" I said uncertainly. "That is your fist name, isn't it
Mr. Hale?"

"Uh, ah, yes, it is." He swallowed and managed to drag his
attention away from Skye. After a few seconds he finally breathed
out in a rush. "Skye, uh,... hi."

"Hi," Skye replied in a soft nervous voice. He licked his lips
anxiously.

"Maybe we should sit down," I suggested feebly.

It was impossible to belief. Yet it was real. Standing before me
was the man who had followed Skye into a rest room located only a
few hundred yards away from where we were. This was the man who
had called me in california and asked for a meeting with the goal
of offering me a job as movie director. This was the man who was
responsible for producing many of the most successful MOUSE
movies in recent years. This was the man who had looked at Skye
only a matter of minutes earlier so intently that it seemed as if
he was mentally undressing the boy. I sat down opposite Hale,
leaving him still standing. Slowly he eased back into his chair,
and Skye moved to sit beside me. His eyes were downcast, refusing
to acknowledge the man's presence before me.

"Well, this is quite a turn of events," I said jovially. "I don't
know who's the most surprised."

Martin smiled obliquely. "I'm er, sorry I stood you up
yesterday."

"That's not a problem."

I stopped there and we waited until the waiter filled our water
glasses and took our order for drinks. Normally, I would have
ordered a diet soft drink. This time I ordered a dry Vermouth and
Vodka. It was a drink that calmed me. I watched Hale, expecting
that he would break the silence.

"I'm sorry about the other thing too," he added when the waiter
left.

"The other thing? Oh, that! The main thing is that he's okay.
Even now, I don't think my boy realizes just how dumb it was to
go into the rest room. He was very lucky."

"Well, like I said, Alex, I'm sorry. If I'd known,..."

I shrugged. "He knows better now," I interrupted. "He knows a lot
more now than he did then."

"He's a beautiful boy," Martin said quietly. "I sort of lost
control. being there with him, I couldn't stop myself. I'd never
hurt him, you have to understand that. I'm not like that."

I nodded slightly. "I hope so. Otherwise I'd be calling the
police. I also realize that he was there because he wanted to be
there."

"Anyway, I'd glad to meet you, and Skye too, even if it's under
somewhat different circumstances."

"He's a very sexy boy," I confided. "Personally I can't blame you
for wanting to get into his pants. I'd do the same myself if I
was in your position."

"Look, before the waiter comes back, I just want to say that he
made me feel like there's something in this world that's worth
living for."

I smiled. "He's not the first boy, is he?"

"No! But he's the best. In my job, I see a lot of boys. Boys who
would do anything for the opportunity to get a part in a movie. A
few of them are big names today. They got their start with me,
because of the things they did. However, when you get right down
to it, none of them are as good looking as Skye. He has something
that few boys possess."

"I know what you mean," I answered. "Why don't we change the
subject?" I suggested as the waiter approached.

"Certainly." Martin glanced at Skye and smiled tenderly. "The
reason why I wanted to meet it is that I've heard such good
things about your work in Hollywood. It's so good in fact that
I'd like you to join me here as the director of a new television
series."

"I don't do series," I said.

"I know that. This is actually a series of made-for-tv movies.
It's themed for a six-thru-twelve audience and they'll run
exclusively on the MOUSE channel. There'll be ten of them this
year. Each one is two hours less commercial time. Based on a
preliminary test, there's a strong chance the series will
continue for a couple of seasons at least."

"Why would I be interested?"

"For one thing its very different to what you've been doing the
last few years. I think you'll enjoy the challenge. We have some
very good people here. They're also fun to work with. And of
course, the money will be very good."

"I already have more than I need for the rest of my life and the
last time I looked, Skye's trust fund was just shy of a million
dollars."

Skye jumped and stared at me as if I was out of my mind. It was
the first that he had heard about the trust fund. I had set it up
for him two days after Deirdre married Robert. It was the only
way I could think of to ensure his future happiness. It would
also rile Deirdre's new husband to think that his stepson was
much better off than he was.

"It'll pay five hundred a year plus ten percent of the revenue
stream. There's quite a bit of commercial opportunity with what I
am planning. You should be able to net a million or more a year
with no trouble. You could increase his trust fund quite a bit
with that."

"Talk to me about the theme," I said.

"Okay. It's about a boy from another dimension. He's about ten
years old when he first arrives. He ends up here as the result of
an accident in a government research lab. Although he's mostly
normal, in this world he has special abilities. The movies will
be about how he uses those abilities to help others."

"Let me guess, his father dies. His dog is run over by a truck.
He,..."

"No! This is really a break with what MOUSE usually does for kid
pics. He lives with a lesbian couple in a trailer. His best
friend is a snake called Dingbat. We already have the boy to play
Dingbat. He's a real character, perfect for the role. When he
smiles you know he's going to lie to you. He always gets the hero
into trouble."

I laughed loudly. "He lives with two lesbians in a trailer?"

"Yes. They're old enough to be his grandmothers. They try to give
him advice, which he almost never follows."

"Wild!" Skye grinned.

"You like it?" I asked.

"Yes. Don't you?" Skye asked.

"Um, well, I don't know. It's,..."

"Different," Martin said flatly. "I think everyone is getting
tired of our standard run-of-the-mill approach. You're right
about the dead parent, the loss of a pet. It's dull, dead,
boring. Today's kids need off-the-wall entertainment. They need
something different."

"It certainly sounds off-the-wall to me," I grinned. "How far
along are you?"

"We have scripts for the first five movies. About half the roles
are filled. I'm still looking for Aarie, that the boy. I had
Aaron Carter in mind. he has the face for it, but he's already a
bit on the old side. His agent didn't want to commit to three
years."

"I can understand that."

"There was another complication as well, but I won't go into that
now. Anyway, I didn't want to audition for the lead role until I
had you on board. You'll have to start work right away. We have
to have film in the bin by early next month in order to meet the
Fall preview dates."

"Thanks, but no thanks," I said with a sideways look at Skye. "I
have plans for the summer."

"Dad," Skye said sharply. "You don't have to say no because of
me. I can always go back and stay with him for the summer."

"Alex,..." Martin started. Then he stopped and he stared at Skye
for a long while. "Alex, you know I have an idea. It's weird
maybe, but I think,... Your boy, has he done any acting?"

"Why?"

"Because he's perfect. I've been going through files from agents
all over the country looking for the right boy to play Aarie.
There are some real cuties, but none of them are what I wanted. I
think the boy I want is sitting right in front of me."

"Skye?"

"Yes Skye. Even the name, Skye Ryder. It's perfect for a young
actor. He moves gracefully. He's the best looking boy I've seen
in years. He speaks like he's been taking diction lessons every
day of his life. He's absolutely right for the part. Even that
hair cut, I can't believe it."

"Skye?" I repeated.

I heard the tone of surprise in my voice. It made perfect sense.
The only thing I couldn't understand was why I had not thought of
getting Skye into acting earlier.

"He's the one, Alex. I know it. He might have almost a million in
his trust fund, but once he's done the first year of the series
it'll be well over two million. He'll get five hundred as a base
and in the lead role he also gets ten percent of the revenue
stream as well."

"A million dollars?" Skye asked cautiously.

"More than likely it will be twice that because the studio's
estimates are always conservative." Martin regarded me with a
smile that said he knew what my answer was going to be.

"We'll have to live in Florida, I expect?" I asked. Martin
nodded. "Would that bother you, Skye. Being away from your Mom
and friends and living here."

"Yes, a bit I guess, but I'd be here with you. And I wouldn't
have Robert being mean to me all the time."

I sighed. "You'll want to do a screen test first, I realize. But
if Skye does only half as good as I think he'll do, I think
you've just hired yourself a director and filled the lead role.
Maybe it's time we switched to champagne."

Roseland Ranch, near Orlando. June 13th, 2000

Skye's screen test was almost a formality. In a way it was also
my test. I directed the filming of the scene where Aarie is first
brought into the earthly dimensions. Most of the background for
that scene was going to be computer-generated so we were filming
with a blue background. With strobe lights flashing and the floor
vibrating, Skye had to act out the terrible shock of
transformation. I changed the script on the fly, adding an
horrific scream that followed Aarie through the temporarily
shattered medium. I had Skye-Aarie collapse on the floor,
writhing on his belly for several seconds, then turning onto his
back. The close-up of his contorted tear-stained face, suddenly
very human, was the 'piece de resistance'.

Martin was ecstatic, as well he should have been. While the film
was being developed, we followed him out to his ranch about
twenty miles from the studio. While working in Hollywood, I had
visited some of the big-name producers and directors. Martin's
estate was no less impressive, perhaps even more impressive
because of the lack of ostentation that is typical on the West
Coast. The main house was a sprawling, modern-style building with
painted walls and flat roof. What may have been the largest
privately owned swimming pool I had ever seen extended to the
south. It was flanked on both sides by palm trees. At the end was
a guest house, a two storey cubic 'box' with square windows. I
readily accepted Martin's invitation to stay there for as long as
we wanted.

Martin and I sat on the terrace and watched Skye swim. He wore a
low-cut red Speedo that Martin had provided him with a sly smirk.
As the sun turned brilliant red and closely joined with the
horizon, we reviewed the scripts together, made occasional
changes, drank frozen margaritas until inebriation became a real
possibility. After a gastronomic dinner, we retired to the
theater and watched the screen test. Both of us passed with
flying colors.

We ambled back to the guest house, both of us deep in thought. I
had nothing to say. There was no question in my mind that I loved
Skye. However, that love was no longer the love of a father, but
of a lover. It bothered me that he flirted with Martin. And he
had flirted, whenever he got out of the pool, during dinner, even
while we watched the screen test. He allowed Martin to touch him,
never deflecting the caresses, not avoiding the attentive eyes
that followed him almost continually and were largely focused on
the small yet very prominent bulge in his red Speedo.

Watching Skye, knowing what he had done with Martin in the rest
room, understanding that part of him that needed a sexual outlet,
made me love him no less. In his way, I realized that Skye loved
me. He could not help the way he was. The concern that was
foremost in my mind was whether I could stand by when he had sex
with Martin. Perhaps Skye's self-exploration had changed him.
Perhaps his body was simply responding to an instinctive need.
Perhaps,... Instead of speculating, I placed my arm possessively
around his shoulders. With every minute I was becoming
increasingly enthralled by the prospect of keeping Skye with me
until he grew up. In the morning I planned to call his mother. It
would be less about Skye's wonderful opportunity than to tell his
mother I wanted to make the summer's arrangement permanent.

It was no secret what Martin wanted to do to him. It was no
different to what I had done to Skye just hours before. It was
impossible not to be affected by the situation. I was witnessing
yet another side of Skye, until recently a carefully concealed
side of him. His sexual urge was strong, far stronger than mine
had been, but I had not had the advantage of understanding
parents or an opportunity for sex beyond an infrequent rendezvous
with my next door neighbor.

Skye looked up at me as I slowly walked across the room,
following him to the window. We looked out over the crystal-clear
swimming pool, still illuminated by a dozen underwater lights. If
I had to share him with another person to retain the privilege of
loving him, I would do so. Yet, Skye's promiscuity was something
that I hoped no one else would ever know about. If I had my way
Martin would be my only competition. MY hands slipped around his
slim waist. I pushed his 'muscle' shirt higher and caressed
Skye's bare back before leaning in to kiss the side of his neck.
I licked slowly along the length of his shoulder, dipping my
tongue into the silky valley of his collar-bone.

"You okay?" I said quietly.

"Uh huh." Skye was silent for a few moments. "I'm sorry," he
whispered over his shoulder.

"Don't be sorry, Skye," I answered gently. I tried to sound
confident. "It's not going to happen again, not now that we're
together. If I had listened to what you were trying to tell me in
the first place, this entire thing wouldn't have happened."

"It's not your fault, Dad."

"And it isn't yours either Skye." I kissed him again, this time
nibbling on the silky lobe of his ear and applying the lightest
pressure on the thin gold band that identified him for what he
was. "You're very sexy, you know," I added teasingly. "I wish you
hadn't gone into the toilet with him, but then we wouldn't have
had any reason to talk the way we did. I'm glad I was your first,
but in a way Martin's responsible for you losing your virginity."

Skye nodded slightly. "I guess."

He breathed out. Slowly his head lifted up. His lips pursed. His
eyes closed. We kissed. Not passionately, at least not at first,
but neither was it a chaste kiss. His lips felt cool, wet,
delicate. My hand eased under his shirt, gently rubbing up and
down his back, stopping at the top of his Speedo and only a
fraction of an inch from the start of his butt crack. After a
minute I pressed my tongue against Skye's lips. Immediately, his
lips parted. My tongue pushed against the smoothness of his
teeth, lifting up behind his upper lip. His mouth opened and I
recognized the hot wetness of his squirming tongue as we dueled
for space. He sucked, drawing me further into him. Lovingly I
squeezed his buttocks and we parted. Instinctively his hand came
up to wipe away the tell-tale saliva. He smiled shyly, then
casually groped his groin to rearrange that part of him that had
swiftly risen to attention. When he met my eyes again, he was
smiling.

"It's weird watching yourself on the screen," he said softly.

"You'll get used to it," I said. "You were very good, by the
way."

"I know. You've already told me that a dozen times so far."

"I believe in giving praise where it's due." I grinned at him.
"Did I also tell you that you are absolutely beautiful."

"Uh huh. I know you're just saying that to be nice."

"No he's not."

Skye and I both turned at the same moment. Martin was standing in
the open door. He held a bottle of champagne in each hand.

"Hi!" I said guardedly. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough." Martin smiled. "I thought we should at least have
a bottle of champagne to celebrate."

"It's late."

"Yes it is. He's an awesome little dude, isn't he?" Martin said
loudly. "You're in the same league as Aaron Carter, only you're
sexier. You know Skye, you could go a long way if you wanted. I
could make you very happy."

"I'm already happy," Skye retorted.

"You're not the first boy to stay here, but you're definitely the
sexiest."

I wanted to shut his mouth with my fist. However, I controlled my
anger. There would a better time. He was obviously drunk. Now, I
needed to be patient.

"He's right, Skye! You're absolutely awesome," I agreed. "Don't
be ashamed of being sexy."

"I've got some great videos of the boys who have stayed here.
There's one in particular, I'm sure you'll both enjoy seeing."

"Listen Martin, maybe it's time you gave it up and went to bed,"
I growled menacingly.

"If I can take Skye with me. How about it, baby? You want to
sleep with Uncle Martin tonight?"

Skye glanced up at me for reassurance. "No!"

Martin glanced at me and I was barely able to conceal my smile. I
shrugged. "He sounds like it means it."

"Okay, but I'm surprised. I thought he was into it. I still can't
believe I got him into that rest room so fucking easily." Martin
jeered. He burped. "I knew it wasn't his first time when his
little fuck-hole opened up and just about sucked me inside. I was
certain I'd found the perfect boy. He's got the biggest butt hole
of any ten-year-old boy I've ever seen. Not quite big enough for
me though, was it baby?"

"It's only big because I've practicing doing it to myself," Skye
said crudely.

I could hear the anxious tone in his voice. Even though he wanted
to be angry, he was still being aroused. He also did not want to
Martin to know that he had already had sex with me. I squeezed
his shoulder firmly to show I was proud of him. It he was going
to be promiscuous, he had to learn how to deal with the
consequences. He took a step backwards, his face noticeably
redder, leaving with me the impression that he was actually
embarassed.

I don't know why but without reasoning or logic, I gave in to the
situation. Sooner or later I would also have to accept the
consequences of loving Skye. I swallowed, wanting to do something
so badly yet understanding that I would come to hate myself.

"Why don't you pour three glasses of that champagne, Martin?" I
suggested.

"Three glasses?"

"Yes, three glasses. If he's old enough to get laid, he's old
enough to get drunk."

I guided Skye towards the couch and firmly pushed him down. I lay
down beside him and hugged him. By the time Martin returned from
the built-in bar, Skye's head was cradled in my left arm, his
body fitting naturally into mine despite the difference in size.
I nuzzled his silky hair with my nose, intoxicated by the
delicious boy-smell. In particular, I smelled the aroma of herbs
from shampoo used before we left the hotel earlier in the day. I
inhaled deeply. I tried to become part of him, drawing his
essence deep into me while I curved my body into his warmth. Skye
wriggled his buttocks against my erection. I was glad that his
deliberate and very enticing provocation was concealed from
Martin. I slid my hand down to his hip and slowly grazed the
curvature of his upper cheek. With only the nylon fabric of his
borrowed Speedo between us, I felt as much as heard his soft
sigh. Martin snorted, as if sneering at our show. He drank
heavily from his glass, and sat down on the couch opposite us.
Despite his presence, or perhaps because of him, Skye wriggled
back slightly, increasing the contact. My penis followed the deep
groove of his crack, comfortably surrounded by warm boy-flesh if
not actually touching it. I knew all too well that if I left it
there for very long, it was only a matter of time before at least
one of us would want to take advantage of the opportunity, with
or without Martin watching us.

The undeniable fact was that I wanted to do more. I wanted to
fuck Skye in front of Martin to prove the boy was mine, that he
had no rights to him. I had a single-minded goal and I did not
want to orgasm, at least not yet. I backed away a few inches. My
fingers tucked in beneath the waistband of Skye's Speedo, seeking
the greater heat of his crevice. I traced the dividing line of
his buttocks down towards his thighs. I closed my eyes, no longer
wanting to think about what was happening. My fingers pressed
further, pushing the warm nylon deeper into the boy's crevice
until his firm cheeks embraced my fingers. I felt a slightness
wetness, imagined it to be my wetness, the wetness that we had
made together although it was very unlikely that the fluids I had
deposited earlier in the morning were still seeping out.

"God you're so sexy," I breathed in his ear. "I still can't
believe you did that."

Again Skye's buttocks pushed back at me. His anxious signal was
unambiguous and urgent. He was as excited as I was. Like me, he
wanted more than my fingers caressing his butt- cheeks, and he
was now inviting my active participation. I gave his firm small
bottom a parting caress. Confronted by the realization that
Martin was fixedly staring at the lascivious spectacle only ten
feet away, I resolved to behave myself for the moment despite the
powerful temptation lying before me. It was less a matter of
self-control than the need to see my plan accomplished. I leaned
forward and lightly kissed the nape of Skye's neck before
continuing along to his shoulder.

"Stop kissing me, Dad," Skye whispered urgently, He brushed my
lips away. "That tickles."

"So? What's wrong with it?" I teased. "I kissed you just about
everywhere last night. I plan on kissing you all the time from
now on," I added as I ran my lips back up to his head with a line
of slightly moist kisses.

I licked his neck behind his ear and dragged my tongue down to
his shoulder again.

"Give him a hickey," Martin jeered.

"Do you want a hickey?" I teased.

"Okay, only not on my shoulder, Dad! People will see it when I go
swimming."

"Where then?"

"If you have to, do it where no one can see it. No! Not there
either!" Skye giggled loudly as I started to suck where his neck
turned to join his shoulder.

"Boys will be boys," Martin laughed from the other side of the
room. He had his hand in his crotch, obviously stroking an
erection judging from the prominent bulge. "Especially gay-boys!"

"You got that right," I laughed. "I can't believe he's doing this
but I'm sure glad he is."

"Hey, Skye, you want to come over here for a while and I'll kiss
you where no one will see it, except me and your old man of
course," Martin guffawed.

"No way! I don't want hickeys anywhere okay? Besides, I may have
to go to the studio tomorrow for another test," Skye quipped
easily.

He reached behind him and squeezed my penis meaningfully.
Rebuked, I returned to smelling his hair and kissing the top of
his head. I realized he felt uncomfortable doing anything in
front of Martin, especially after what Martin had done with him
in the rest room. Skye's small hand stayed there, rubbing with
delicious caresses. He had every intention of arousing me
further, knowing all the while that I would not be able to
respond in the way that I wanted. However, two could play at this
game, I decided. So began our game of 'cat and mouse'.

By ourselves, it would have been a very different matter. After
only one day, the fundamental rule was in place. During the
previous night I had taken the opportunity to explain that either
of us could initiate sex, but the other person always had the
right to say yes or no. That was the only rule, and it had been
clear from the outset that Skye would not be the one to say no. I
hoped that rule and the need to be in love before anything sexual
happened would guide Skye for the rest of his life. It was
unlikely, but it would be what separated me from men like Martin
Hale.

To do otherwise would not only be unfair to Skye, but
irresponsible on my part. In a way, it backfired as we lay
together on the couch. It provided a way for Skye to torment me,
to further our passion until I was about to go crazy. It became a
game of denial and instigation. Without reason he wavered between
rejection and impulsive prompting, changing his mind whenever he
desired to exert his power over me. He tortured me, leading me on
until I was almost overwhelmed by my raging lust and then
dissenting just to postpone my satisfaction and increase his
glee. Skye was a prick teaser, junior model. I loved him even
more because of it, relishing the game of temptation. He also
liked champagne. As the alcohol increased in his blood vessels he
became increasingly randy.

If we were alone it would have been only a matter of seconds
before I ripped his Speedo off and impaled him on my engorged
penis. Instead I had to exert control, more control than I had
ever needed before. I expected I would fuck Skye again and again
that night just as I had done the previous night, but it would be
when we were alone, when this was over and done with. Whatever
Skye wanted I would always do, and we both knew it. I worshipped
the ground he walked on.

Already an hour had passed, but it seemed both longer and
shorter. It seemed as if time had stopped for both of us, instead
of rushing headlong into the bottomless pit of an unknown future.
At that moment, it would still have been possible to get up and
leave. Jealousy and primal lust kept me there, if only to finish
what I had started.

"Your son is something else. You really like man-cock, don't you
Skye?" Martin tormented.

Skye ignored him. "Not wrong," I laughed.

"Man, I'm getting close to cumming myself just watching you work
his cute little ass," Martin commented with a crude laugh. He
swilled the last of the champagne in his glass, grinning from ear
to ear. "God, he's so fucking sexy."

Skye was having the same effect on me, much as I wanted to deny
it. I knew he could feel my rigid hardness. His back was placed
so that the head of my penis was poking at the top of his crack.
There was no way he could not feel it jabbing into his spine. He
wriggled again and again, trying to get comfortable while he
rubbed himself against me. I smiled and hugged him gently.

"Not so tight! You're squeezing me to death, Dad," Skye said
impatiently.

"Sorry," I said quickly.

Martin laughed crudely. Some time during the last few minutes, he
had extracted his penis through his now-open zipper. He stroked
it slowly, enclosing it in his right fist and grinning at Skye. I
felt Skye tremble slightly, but whether it was from excitement or
something else, I could not tell.

"Just look at this pucker-fucker of mine," Martin said loudly.
"You'd think a boy's ass-hole would split open with that much
cock inside it. He's scared, but he still loves to look at it.
His little dick is hard enough to snap off."

There was no denying the look on Skye's face. He certainly wasn't
smiling, yet he was engrossed in the sight. He was infatuated
with 'cock'. I smiled. From my limited personal experience I knew
that Skye liked being fucked more than any male I had ever known.
During the night he made no secret of it. By ourselves, he would
have pushed himself onto my penis without hesitating. He was
inhibited only for one reason, because Martin was in the room.

I poked my finger into the wet circle in the rear of his Speedo
as far as it could go. I knew it would take only a matter of
another minute or two before Skye capitulated to his desperate
urge. Then, for a few minutes, he would take the lead. I expected
it would take longer because Martin was watching, but that also
made him very excited. I waited only a minute before I took the
next step in my plan.

"Okay, Skye," I whispered. "I want you to take my dick out.
There's nothing to be ashamed of any longer."

I waited and counted the seconds off while Skye mentally prepared
himself to play the most important role of his life. I got to
thirty before I felt his nimble fingers bravely tugging at the
zipper of my jeans. His eagerness to get down to business was not
out of character, at least based on my experience with him.
Already, we had covered a lot of territory and made up for a lot
of lost time, but it had taken most of a night. My penis lurched
when he parted the open zipper and his fingertips brushed the
warm cloth of my briefs. A moment later he had discerned the
underlying form of my erection and his fingers crept along my
shaft until he touched the head. There he stopped, squeezing
lightly and using a fingernail to gently scratch at the open slit
in the crown.

"Boy, he's really big, and so wet. He's oozing pre-cum all over
the place," Skye giggled.

"I reckon gay boys always like their men to have big cocks,"
Martin interrupted cruelly. "Was that boy of yours born to fuck
or what? What have you been feeding him? Cum instead of milk?"

"No idea. He hasn't been drinking cum all that long."

"You're lucky. I wouldn't mind getting his ass on a regular basis
myself. What do you think, Skye. Do you want some of my cock when
he's done?"

I did not have to see Skye's face to know that he was smiling as
he rubbed my glans. Only ten years old and already he knew how to
extract the most incredible sensations from a male organ. He knew
more than most males learn in a lifetime. He was learning the
fine art of 'prick teasing' as he went. It was about time to take
the next step.

"Whatever goes up my boy's butt is up to him," I answered.

Martin smirked. "I know what's been up your boy's butt, that's
for sure."

"So do I," Skye rebuked. "My dad fucked me really great this
morning. I almost didn't get out of bed."

"What about last night?" I chided.

"You fucked him last night?" Martin asked dryly.

"Of course."

"He deep-dicked me for about an hour last night. It was fucking
incredible," Skye said flatly. "I could barely move. By the time
I fell asleep he must have done it up my ass six times."

"Seven," I corrected. "But you were nearly out of it by the time
I finished. There was so much sperm running out of you I had to
get a towel from the bathroom to put under your ass. Hey, I don't
know about you Martin, but I'm ready to get his clothes off and
get to work."

"You mean?" Martin asked cautiously.

"If you want to fuck him later on, it's okay by me."

"Me too," Skye offered sensuously. "How about it, stud? Are you
ready to stick your big hard cock all the way up my hot little
ass?"

"You're joking!"

"I'm not. That's why we're here, isn't is Skye."

Skye grinned crudely. "Yeah."

"Do you think we're weird or what?" I laughed.

"Because you want to watch your son's ass getting screwed?"
Martin said.

"That isn't the reason. Well it may be a part. You've got a
promiscuous gay kid and a boy-loving father who wants to keep him
safe. How about it?"

"You're pretty confident, Alex," Martin commented.

"Yeah, I am, aren't I? If you want to fuck him, he's all yours."

Skye scooted away, standing up in front of the couch and
partially blocking my view. His hips oscillated seductively. From
behind it was a very enjoyable view of his wriggling buttocks,
enough to cause my penis to jump with anticipation. He walked
towards Martin, stopping only when he stood directly in front of
him. Martin sat up, abandoning his stiff organ. His hands reach
out, clasping Skye's hips, looping his thumbs into the waist band
of the tiny Speedo, unable to look away from the outline of the
rigid little penis underneath the red nylon. He paused.

"You want me to strip him?" Martin asked uncertainly.

I nodded. "It won't be the first time, will it? It's okay by me
if you want to take his clothes off. Go on, what are you waiting
for."

Martin's hands tugged slightly, pulling the Speedo down several
inches, but not enough to reveal any flesh because Skye's shirt
slipped down to cover the exposed skin. He looked up at the boy,
grinning. Then, deliberately, slowly pulled the warm soft nylon
down further. He didn't stop until he reached Skye's knees.

"Lift your top up, Skye," he instructed.

I could hear the excitement in his voice, alert to the extent of
his arousal. Skye's hands moved up slowly, smoothly, shamelessly.
With his crotch only slightly below Martin's eyes, the man was
looking directly at the boy's small hard penis and the walnut-
sized scrotum that was barely visible below.

"Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful," Martin purred.

I swallowed my jealousy, strangely fascinated by the man's
admiration. "He is, isn't he?" I answered. I swallowed again,
took a deep breath, focused my thoughts on staying calm. I
breathed out, watching as Martin finished removing Skye's
clothes. His hands stroked the sides of boy's bare legs,
travelling from his knees to his hips. There, his fingers scooped
up the hem of Skye's shirt and began to lift it higher, exposing
more and more of Skye's flawless pale-skinned abdomen.

"I'm sorry about what happened in the rest room and all," Martin
said apologetically.

"Hell, there's no reason to be sorry. In a way it was the best
thing that could have happened to him."

"I don't get it," Martin said. "You don't care about kid?"

"Of course I do. Why don't you tell him, Skye?"

"It was going to happen sooner or later. If it wasn't you it
would have been someone else."

"You don't care if a complete stranger messes around with him."

"I'm gay! Okay? It's not like I'm going to want to have a
girlfriend or something when I'm older, is it?" Skye chimed in.

"Right on!"

"Huh? You really don't mind?" Martin asked suspiciously, his
question directed to me.

"Hardly. I don't think Skye's the marrying kind, do you?" I
joked.

Martin smirked and glanced at Skye crudely. "Probably not. He
likes sucking cock too much." He glanced at Skye before looking
back at me. "There is one thing I don't get."

"What don't you get?" I asked brusquely.

"Everything! Fucking all of it!" Martin snapped. "You're sitting
there while I take your boy's clothes off, for one thing. You're
acting like nothing's out of the ordinary. Shit! Your kid got his
little dick worked over two days ago and you don't get angry.
Hell, I might have gotten my cock up him, and you seem not to
care two cents about it."

I shrugged absently. "Maybe you going to think I'm crazy, but
before all this happened, I used to dream about getting him in
bed with other men," I said.

"You're joking!"

"Nope!"

"Why the hell would you do a thing like that?"

"I guess it's my fantasy, to watch him being touched and played
with the same way as he is now."

"Your own kid?"

I shrugged. "If I couldn't do it myself."

"You'd let someone else do that to him?" Martin asked in
disbelief.

"Maybe. I really don't know. I thought about it a lot. The
opportunity never came up, though he and I have talked about him
being gay a couple of times. Like he said, it was just a matter
of time before he started having sex."

"I was afraid, that's all."

Martin appeared at a loss for words, yet his disbelief was
gradually evaporating. Despite his drunken state, he studied me
closely, his eyes suspicious.

"You're not angry about what happened to him when he was with
me?" Martin queried.

"Why? He got what he wanted, and so did I. I guess I was mad when
I first heard what had happened to him. Then, when we met you at
the restaurant," I smiled, "well, I didn't mind as much after
that. I liked you."

"Okay, enough fucking around. Let's get to the point of why you
are here?" Martin said irritably.

I winked at him. "You said it yourself already, Martin. It's no
secret that my kid's a fag-boy. The fact is, we both know that
boys like him need to be fucked every chance they get."

"Not good enough," Martin growled.

"Okay! If you must know, I wanted to watch you with him," I
admitted.

"It turns you on, doesn't it? Knowing another guy has nailed your
son's ass. It might be his old man who got his cherry, but you
still want to watch me stick my cock up him," he replied proudly.

I felt uneasy inside yet I kept control. Slowly, I nodded.
"Something like that. I guess I would have gotten around to
fucking him eventually. I've been thinking about it for a while
now. I always imagined taking him on a camping trip. Just the two
of us alone in the woods, sleeping together at night, feeling him
up while I think he's asleep only to find out he's not. Then
going the whole way. We're so far from anyone that it doesn't
matter if he screams."

"It sounds like fun. Why didn't you do it?"

"Scared, I guess. I know now that I shouldn't have been. Did you
know Skye used to work his asshole over every night with one of
his toys to get himself ready for something bigger. It was only a
matter of time until someone took his virginity. You beat me to
it."

"Yeah, I did. He told me he used to use a bowling pin," Martin
chuckled. "It was a bit hard to believe until I saw his ass. It
looked like he'd lost his cherry a long time ago. That was the
only reason I tried it up him. He was still too tight for me
though."

"he said it hurt a lot so it's not something he'll ever forget, I
imagine," I laughed. "You must have worked him out pretty good
from what I heard."

"He wanted it right from the get go," Martin smirked. "But I was
just too darned big for him. Your boy has a hot little hiney.
When they're like that, bigger is usually better."

"You're not wrong! After last night I know from personal
experience that he doesn't have a problem taking a big one
through the back door."

"What have you got?"

"Seven and a bit," I answered.

Martin smirked. His penis was quite a bit bigger than average and
he was proud of it. Ever since he was twelve, when he first
starting having anal sex with his younger brother, he had
believed that length and thickness accounted for most of a boy's
pleasure.

"That's more than enough for a boy his age to know he's been
fucked. Especially to get started with, that's for sure" he
laughed. "It might make his hole a bit on the large side, though
if you plug him regularly."

"He fucked me again this morning and it's still a bit loose back
there after all this time," Skye said.

"If I get my way his asshole is never going to be tight again," I
added with a crude smirk.

Martin regarded the slender naked boy dispassionately, his eyes
assessing the smooth young body for any imperfection. Finding
none, he smiled.

"I don't care," Skye said softly. He turned so he could see me.
"I just want you in me, Dad. That's all I ever wanted."

During the previous night I had tried to avoid the inevitable
conclusion, knowing what Skye had wanted from me all along,
knowing but not admitting. It was my fault that I had committed
the act too late.

"He wants his daddy to fuck him. Can you believe it? The fag-boy
is hot for his daddy. Fuck me, daddy. Fuck me," Martin chortled.
"Listen to him. He's begging for you to fuck him. Damn it why
don't you take upstairs and lay him."

"It was a pity I waited so long, but he got what he wanted last
night," I said dryly. "I must have nailed his ass a half a dozen
times before he passed out."

"And from the look of this, he still wants more," Martin chortled
with a playful flip of his fingers against the short, hard shaft
of Skye's very erect penis.

"That's the only reason why we're here," I added. "I'd say he was
ready for a back-to-back performance, wouldn't you?"

"With both of us?" Martin queried.

"I don't see why not. I want to see him get fucked."

He nodded slowly, his eyes sluggish. "I reckon I got you figured
out now. From the second you walked out the door of the theater,
I knew what you wanted to do tonight. You really want to see your
boy get his ass fucked, don't you?"

"Not wrong. He's into it as well. What about it? Do you want to?"

"Maybe. Your kid looks like he'll be a great fuck. Maybe the best
I'll ever had. Most kids will scream their heads off if you mess
with them in the toilets, but not your boy. He stood there just
grinning at me. He was nervous as all hell, but he wasn't going
to run off. He was a bit noisy when I tried to fuck him. I really
didn't want to hurt him."

"Now he's no longer a virgin, I think he's ready for something
bigger. I want to see how much he can take. I really want to see
you fuck the crap out of him."

"Okay! But what happens here, stays here. No one else knows. I
have a good thing here and I want to keep it going. When Robbie,
he's the boy who's playing Aarie's best friend, gets back in a
few weeks, we'll make it a foursome."

"That sounds interesting," I smiled.

He nodded slowly, still uncertain about trusting me. "We'll make
a good team. You and I have the right common interests."

"Boys?" I suggested blandly.

"That, and we don't like our boys to have pubic hair. Why don't
you take Skye upstairs. The bathroom is right off the bedroom.
Help him get flushed out while I find us some lube."

"You mean give him an enema?"

"You got it! I'm not keen on fucking shit. Maybe you are, but I'm
not. I like my boys clean inside and outside."

I nodded, wincing while I spoke. "I know what you mean, Martin.
There was so much of his crap on the sheets this morning I had to
throw them in the bath tub before we left." I turned to Skye.
"Come on, Skye. Let's get your ass ready so you can have some
real fun."

As we left the living room, Martin picked up the glasses and the
remaining half bottle of champagne.

"Now what?" Skye whispered.

"Now we get you ready. You wanted to meet him again. This is your
chance to do what you want."

"Is he going to,... you know?"

"Fuck you?" I finished. "No! Not if you don't want him to! That's
not going to happen. I promise you that. I love you too much to
let anyone do anything to you against your will. I was almost
ready to kill him when he took your clothes off."

"I know. I saw the look on your face," Skye acknowledged.

A faint smile creased his lips. I knew that he took pleasure in
seeing my jealousy. I smiled back at him despite the unpleasant
taste that rose in my throat.

The bathroom was spectacular. Marble was used everywhere and it
was polished to a high sheen. In the center of the room was a
huge bath tub complete with spotlights and water jets.

"I wonder where the stuff is for the enema?" I asked
dispassionately.

"Probably in there," Skye replied with a vague gesture at the
cabinets carefully hidden behind the door.

Inside was an array of enema implements and two half-used tubes
of lubricant together with items that might normally be found in
a bathroom. I extracted the enema tube, a nozzle that appeared as
if it had not been used, and the requisite plastic bag. It took
about a minute to fill the bag with warm water, attach the tube
and nozzle, and apply a liberal coating of K-Y to the five inches
that would go inside Skye.

With a smile that was somewhat more gleeful that I wanted, Skye
bent forward over the marble vanity and used his hands to part
his cheeks. I looked into the wide-open crack and was slightly
amused to see the unmistakable signs of my recent visit. As any
child abuse specialist knows, there is no disguising a recently
violated anus. The ring of tissue surrounding the opening was
slightly bloated and redder than normal. It still had the
appearance of being distended, yet in reality, it was as closed
as it would ever be. There was a barely visible trail of wetness
that went half the length of his crack. It had as its
unmistakable source, the semen that had continued to drool from
his dilated opening throughout the day.

It was a simple matter to insert the nozzle, no more than a
slight push to get it started, and then it slid in easily.

"Okay?"

"Yeah! If feels like a really thin dick," Skye giggled.

"Like you would know," I teased. "I thought you were only into
men with huge cocks."

"You're disgusting!" he grinned over his shoulder. "I learned my
lesson. I like big cocks, but I love them when they're your size
exactly."

"Hmmm. That's nice to know. Are you ready?"

Skye nodded. I opened the clamp and allowed the water to drain
down and into him. He sighed as the heat streamed inside his body
and began to fill his rectum. Another sigh, even louder. His
buttocks clenched as he instinctively tightened around the
plastic tube. There was no way for him to hold back the flow.

"I bet that feels nice," I taunted.

"'s okay."

I grinned. Already the bladder was about half-empty. Lovingly I
squeezed his right buttock, pressing my fingers into the firmly
muscled, yet very soft cheek.

"Don't you dare let go before you're on the toilet," I warned.

Skye nodded again. He was patient, shifting slightly as the
sensations became uncomfortable. He breathed steadily, taking
deep lung fulls as if trying to time them to the inner rhythm
that made his limbs twitch erratically.

"Okay," I said quietly. "It's done."

"Mmmmman, it feels funny inside my belly."

"I bet it does. There's at least two quarts of water sloshing
around inside you."

"It feels like there's gallons," Skye remarked as he slowly
straightened up again and turned to face me.

He grinned triumphantly, flaunting his nakedness. His penis stuck
out bravely like a little pink finger that was crowned by a
purple-tinted tip that bulged beyond the tight ring of his
foreskin. It was a deliciously hard prong that pointed from his
knotted scrotum towards me. It was all I could do not to fall to
my knees and worship it, giving it the homage it was due. He
stood before me silently, his hands on his hips like a shameless
whore ready and willing to do whatever was asked of him. I was
tempted. For me, as for any man who loves boys, it was the most
beautiful sight in the entire world.

I breathed out and opened my mouth, exerting all the self-
control that I could muster. Far be it from me to make Skye aware
that the end of my plan was still a long way away. However, he
also wanted me. I could see it in his eyes, his nervous hands,
the hungry twitching of his penis. Even as my head lowered and
closed the distance to his outreaching organ, he sighed in the
anticipation of the pleasure I was about to give him.

The taste was familiar, a sweetness from his sleek warmth
enveloping my tongue, pulsing alive and eager for my oral cavity,
pushing with abdominal jerks that wanted to become pelvic
thrusts. His penis slid all the way into my mouth, until his soft
pubis rubbed my lips and my nose was squeezed into his firm belly
so hard that even breathing was an effort. He pumped forcefully,
bumping his small testicles about in the loose folds of his
scrotum, brushing my chin with each urgent inward motion.

My joy was short-lived. After no more than half-a-dozen short
jabs, Skye backed away, breathing deeply as he felt the sudden
spasm of imminent explosion. He clutched his belly with both
hands, obvious to the wet sheen of my saliva that coated his
penis and groin.

"Shit!" he groaned.

I could not help but smile. "Yeah, I imagine so."

He grinned back at me, the spasm fading slowly to a dull
sensation of being very full. He stepped forward again to bring
his penis within reach of my mouth. A second cramp came almost
immediately. His groan was warning enough. I guided him sideways
towards the toilet and he sat down heavily, grunting as the
pressure inside his bowels built to barely manageable levels.

He looked at me with pained eyes. They were also eyes full of
love and I gazed back at him, nodding my head slowly. Skye closed
his eyes, took a deep breath, and groaned loudly. The air was
about halfway out of his lungs when his sphincter lost control.
The release occurred with a whoosh and he exhaled fully,
clenching his lips and eyes as the waste splattered into the
water beneath him.

"God!" Skye moaned.

"It's okay," I said softly, reassuringly. "It'll only take a few
more seconds."

"Cramps are real bad," he gasped after a few seconds.

"I expect I used too much water," I answered.

"Sorry 'bout the smell."

"Don't be. It's not your fault. I think you're over the worst of
it, Skye."

"It really stinks. A person could die if he breathed too much of
it," Skye chortled.

"Uh huh. I'll live though."

"I'm not worried about you."

I grinned back at him and stood up. While Skye finished expelling
the last of the waste, I refilled the plastic bag with more
water, only not as warm as the last time. This time I allowed the
tap to run until the bag was distended, swollen with water. By
the time I had re-lubricated the nozzle end, Skye had flushed the
toilet and was leaning over the vanity again. I moved into
position. He grasped his butt cheeks to open his crack. For a
moment, I was stunned. His hole had already started to dilate,
the opening into his crimson-walled rectum more than a half-an-
inch in diameter. I slid the plastic nozzle back into him using
only the slightest pressure. His buttocks clenched, and to my
amazement, pulled on the slippery tube with surprising strength.
It was the same way he used his inner muscles to massage my
penis. His hips oscillated as he worked his pelvis in circular
thrusts, then back and forth in a distinctly sexual way.

"I think you're almost ready for a nice hard fuck," I laughed as
I squeezed his small cheek. "But first I'm going to flush you
right out."

Reaching up, I unclamped the clear tube attached to the underside
of the swollen bladder. Other than Skye's moans and the slow
contraction of the bag, there was no sign of what was happening.
Slowly, the walls of the bag collapsed and finally contracted
together as the draining fluid created a suction. During the last
minute, Skye's moans had become increasingly distressed and he
shifted uncomfortably. There was no way he could stop the flow of
warm water. It spilled into him and stretched his lower intestine
until his belly was as taut as a drum. He straightened up and
winced, wrinkling his nose as his discomfort intensified.

"I bet you're feeling pretty full," I teased.

Skye nodded slightly and rolled his eyes in mock bad humor. "I
ought to let it go over you this time," he said plaintively.
"This is no way to have fun."

He waddled towards the toilet, clamping his buttocks together
with one hand and keeping his knees close. Release was only
seconds away if he did not maintain control. I was tempted to
tickle him. The idea of Skye squirting the contents of his bowels
all over Martin's bathroom was very inviting. Flushing a boy's
rectum before intercourse was not on my list of priorities.

However, before I could suggest it, Skye dropped down onto the
toilet seat and the water gushed out him like a high-pressure
pipe had burst. He smiled wryly, glancing down between his
slender thighs as the last of it dribbled out and splashed into
the murky water in the once-white porcelain bowl.

"It's not so messy this time," he acknowledged quietly. He had
been emptied, and not just physically.

"Most of it came out last time," I said. "You ready to get
cleaned up?"

He nodded weakly and I lifted his arms to help him up. Standing
before him, still holding his arms, I was very aware of his
diminutive size. The top of his head was still inches below my
breast. His arms were thin, smooth, and very soft. He looked
every bit of his age of barely ten years. Gently, I hugged him
closer and he pushed into me, burrowing his head under my arm. I
smiled and pulled the towel from the chromed rail on the back of
the door. It was a pure-white towel and without thinking, I used
it to wipe the splattered stains from Skye's bottom, dabbing into
his K-Y-smeared crack while I lovingly rubbed my other hand over
his bare back. I was amused to see dirty-brown streaks and spots
on the towel when I had finished.

"Now what?" Skye asked anxiously as I dropped the towel to the
floor.

"Now bend over."

"Not again," he whined. "I don't want to do it again."

"No more enemas, I promise."You're clean."

I picked out a partially used tube of lubricant from the cabinet
above the vanity. Familiar only with K-Y, the tube of Anal-Ease
was inspiring. Even the name, especially the name, conveyed what
I was looking for. Skye looked over his shoulder and rewarded me
with a silly smirk.

"I wonder if this stuff is any good?" I teased as I studied the
label.

He grinned, not answering. He watched with what could only be
called apprehensive curiosity as I removed the cap. I squeezed
out a bead that was at least several inches long onto on my first
finger. I turned my extended finger, and then used my thumb to
lightly rub some of the glistening gel over my fingertip.

"Spread 'em wide, boy," I said gruffly. "And let's see what
you're hiding back here."

Skye giggled, shamelessly opening his crack for my inspection.
"What a nice little hole," I admired teasingly.

I placed my hand over his, cupping his right cheek and giving it
a loving, yet possessive squeeze.

"I know what it needs,... It needs this."

"Uhahhhhohhhh!" Skye moaned when my finger darted forward and
reached all the way into his rectum.

"This is exactly what you need!"

"Shit!" he croaked.

"Not this time. You're clean as a whistle."

"OhhhhGod!"

"You like this huh?" I queried softly as my finger burrowed
pulled back and then deeper and deeper.

"Hell! Yes!"

"You're tight!"

"Uh,... argh,... oh, OH!"

"Stop squealing."

"Push it all the way in!" Martin laughed from the hallway. "This
is what he likes to start off with. He likes nothing more than to
have a finger all the way up his chute. A few minutes of it and
he'll be ready for the real thing."

I twisted my finger around and levered upward into Skye's spine,
then down into the soft tissue surrounding his bladder. He
jumped, arching his spine and grasping my finger with his
suddenly and quite surprisingly powerful anal muscle. I allowed
him a few seconds to get used to the added mass and then began to
rub the area where his prostate was located. He gasped, pushing
back, then jerking away to increase the pressure. His anus pulled
aggressively at my finger, dragging it deeper into him. His body
continued to be tormented by small brief spasms, twitching and
shuddering as waves of delight flooded through him.

"He's a fucking horny little rug-rat isn't he?" Martin taunted.
"He wants his ass fucked so bad. He wants it so fucking bad he
can't stand it. He wants his daddy's cock stuffed all the way up
his hiney."

Skye's response was to grunt and shove back at me, squeezing as
hard as he could.

"You're not wrong, Martin," I laughed as I played along. "From
the feel of it he's almost ready for a man-cock in his tight
little boy-pussy."

"Good. Why don't you get your boy on his back for a while so he's
more or less used to it before I do him?"

"Good idea," I laughed.

I glanced at Skye with curiosity to see how he was taking it. He
smiled back at me, completely at ease with what I was doing to
his anus.

"If I was you, I'd use the Anal-Ease on your dick too," Martin
smirked. "After all, there's no point in rushing through the best
part."

"Huh?"

"Anal-Ease takes the edge of both of you. You'll take longer to
cum, and he'll still feel it. The only downside is he won't get
off as often."

"Sounds good to me. What else have you got in here?" I replied as
I scavenged though the cabinet.

"The best stuff is the bedroom."

"You got any kid-sized cock rings?"

"Yeah, there's a few in the bedroom. I've also got a butt plug or
two that ought to be small enough for him."

I nodded, yanking my finger out of Skye's heat. I felt his
sphincter tighten, his buttocks clenching resolutely, yet not
strong enough to stop either determined entry or exit. He gasped
through gritted teeth and glared at me with an expression
somewhere between pouting and anger.

With my hand on his small shoulder, I guided Skye out of the
bathroom and past Martin. I could sense the man's arousal, the
intense hunger in his eyes as he feasted on Skye's smooth
nakedness. We entered the bedroom. The bed was a large one, with
a intricately patterned cover. From the full length mirror behind
the bed alone it was easy to imagine writhing bodies performing
sex acts that defied description.

A video camera was attached to a tripod, with several high
powered lights on a stand nearby. Centered on the bed was a
patriotic red-white-blue beach towel. Clearly, Martin knew what
to expect when a man had sex with a young boy. I smiled, still
keeping my hand on Skye's shoulder to reassure him.

"Get on the bed, Skye," I commanded.

He sat down, turning back to look at Martin. The man was framed
in the doorway, grinning crudely.

"Are you going to make a video-tape of me?" Skye asked awkwardly.

"If your dad doesn't mind," Martin answered. "What about it,
Alex? Do you want to watch your boy get fucked on the tv later
on?"

"Damned right," I said with a laugh. "It's not exactly the same
as a screen test, but it's not every day a boy gets his ass
fucked by two men, is it?"

For a moment Skye regarded me. The look was both wanton and a
little fearful. I stared back at him, eyes narrowed, casually
stroking my engorged penis through my jeans. There was no doubt
in my mind that he was excited by the prospect. After all he had
been through, he was experiencing the same cruel urge that had
brought him to rest room the first time. Nothing could change
that part of him. He was drawn to depravity, seeking sexual
pleasure that was the antithesis of his youthful perfection.
Martin had recognized his need in the park toilet. If I had not
been blind, I would have realized the boy's needs as well.

Even Skye's breathing announced his desire as clearly as if he
had spoken it aloud. He was not drunk, but another glass would be
enough. He breathed quickly and deeply, his nostrils flaring wide
when he inhaled, then narrowing as if smelling the scent of drug-
induced ecstasy. The realization swept through me. I would love
him no matter what. Still holding Skye's eyes captive, I
unfastened my belt and opened the zipper. I pushed my jeans and
briefs down a few inches, enough to release my raging erection
from its confinement. Martin laughed as he saw my penis come into
view.

"It looks like you've already joined the club, I see," he
laughed.

"Huh?"

"The Hairless Club. I like a shaved crotch nearly as much as one
like his," he added, gesturing towards Skye. "I've found a lot of
boys like 'em too. Your son included. A couple of my friends are
shaved as well. It makes a guy's dick look bigger, I think."

I glanced down, confirming for myself that my pubic area was
devoid of hair. I ignored him, but I was very conscious why I had
taken the razor to my groin.

A single pace brought me within arm's reach of Skye. Hesitantly,
he reached out, fingers nervously extended. Brushing along the
length of my penis, his fingers cradled the tip, smearing the
silver-slick excretion until his fingers were slippery with it.
Then down the smooth shaft, closing his small thin fingers until
his hand was tight, pumping slowly against the loose skin.
Automatically, my hands reached around his tousled head, clasping
his silky hair, his delicate ears, drawing him forward and onto
it. His mouth opened and slipped down over my glans. So hot and
wet, absorbing the softness of his mouth, the band of his wide-
stretched lips, the sponginess of his embracing tongue. And he
sucked, sucked for all he was worth, pulling my rigid penis
deeper and deeper until he should have choked.

Other men had taught him well, this trick of deep-throating, of
plunging onto a man's penis until the head reached down to his
tonsils, of staying there until he needed to breath. Skye slurped
noisily, working his tongue back and forth within the small space
that remained between his cheeks and the huge organ that was
buried in his mouth. I held him tightly, straining hard, forcing
even more through his lips, until my testicles were crushed
against his chin and I felt his throat gripping my glans. I eased
him back, guiding his head until I could see his face again. Skye
smiled up at me. His lips were wet, a trickle of saliva on his
cheek. His eyes sparkled.

"Great little cocksucker, isn't he?" Martin crowed from behind
me.

"He's fucking incredible."

"It doesn't matter what end he takes it either. That boy of yours
just loves man-cock. You can fuck him or let him suck you and he
always comes back for more. He can't get enough of it."

Still smiling, Skye kept silent. He was not about to deny what we
both knew to be the truth. Then slowly, deliberately, he licked
his lips, leaving no doubt that he had enjoyed what he had just
done and wouldn't have minded doing it again. However, his mind
was on other matters.

He lay back on the bed and his slender legs gradually lifted up
until his ankles were beside his shoulders. In that position his
buttocks were parted wide and he could watch me from between his
ankles. His anus was gaping open, the rim slightly reddened and
set within a circle of darker skin. He half-closed his eyes, his
nostrils flaring with each slow deep breath as he willed his body
to relax. I closed the distance between us and nudged the bloated
tip of my penis against his open anus. There was no pain. His
smile fleeted, his face showing a momentary tension until my
penis slipped into his body.

He was hot, enveloping my engorged flesh with his soft lubricity.
With very little effort, I found myself sinking deeper and
deeper. His eyes closed completely when I bottomed out, his
rectum binding around my penis, pulling with deliberate snatches
like a grasping hand. Exercising his sphincter had brought a
dividend that both of us were totally unaware of. He pulled me
into him, bathing my swollen organ with his mushy tube, then
impatiently squeezing with firm strength enough to make me groan
aloud. Caught up in his own world amid overpowering sensations,
Skye moaned softly.

Behind me, I heard Martin laughing, his words unforgettable.

"Fuck me daddy."

Then in my ear, I heard the same words whispered. Endearing,
pleading, full of tormented passion. Skye was begging me. I eased
away, withdrawing until I was nearly out. Then ploughing back,
quick and deep, fucking into his slim, smooth body hard enough to
force the air from his lungs. Underneath me I could feel him
trembling, squirming, giving way to overwhelming pleasure. For an
instant I thought he was trying to escape, yet reason prevailed.
I felt my engorged penis becoming even stiffer. I heard the wet
suctioning sound that was already familiar to me. I pushed
harder, deeper, forcing his butt cheeks wide apart with the hard
wedge of my penis, listening to his groans of encouragement. When
he gasped and shuddered, I knew I could go no further.

Skye moaned deliriously. I had been deep before, but never like
this, never so far inside him that I felt his buttocks squeezing
my testicles. His body was tight, like a glove, like a rubber
tube, alive and always squeezing. And there was the smell. The
raw primal odor of the earth, slightly sweet, slightly musty, not
rank. It was the aphrodisiac that I needed to overcome my
inhibitions before another man.

"Feel my cock, Skye," I grunted. "I'm so far up your ass it's
pushing into your stomach."

"Uhaaooooo," Skye breathed. He quaked and I rammed down hard with
all my strength against his buttocks. "God!" he grunted.

"It hurts, doesn't it? But I can tell you really love it. You
love having your dad's cock deep in your boy-pussy. You want him
to deep-dick you, don't you?" Martin snarled.

"Yyyyeeessss."

"And to think I'm just getting you warmed up," I taunted.

"You've got more to come after he's done, fuck-boy. By the time
we've finished with you," Martin growled drunkenly, "you won't be
able to hold in your farts."

Martin backed away, watching with interest as I pumped. There was
no other word to describe it. My penis pounded back and forth,
sucking loudly on the outward stroke from the lubricant that
oozed from Skye's now-gaping orifice. Each powerful thrust
brought us both closer to the looming precipice of orgasm. While
the immediacy of it was cause for dismay, I could no more stop
myself than jump off a cliff.

Every few seconds I looked down at Skye, very aware that for
almost any other ten-year-old boy I would be causing him terrible
agony. However, the expression on Skye's face was reassuring.
Strangely content, lips apart, eyes closed to mere slits.
Enigmatic, accepting, concentrating on the incredible pleasure,
denying the possibility of pain from my brutal plunges. A minute
passed, and then another. His breathing became erratic, short
gasps from his heaving chest, his head tossing from side to side
as if he wanted to lose consciousness. Always fucking, always
sliding that long hard shaft of flesh within his tightly
stretched tube, always squeezing. It was relentless with a motion
that came naturally, a rhythm that had existed since neolithic
times when men escorted boys into the dark recesses of caves and
did what they could not do with women.

The heat built within us until we were both wet with
perspiration. Without warning Skye reached the pinnacle. There
was always a peak that seemed as if it was only another thrust
away, and then he would tumble into an abyss. His mouth opened
wide, making an animal-like sound from deep in his chest. His
fingernails rasped my flanks and his teeth scraped my shoulders.
I felt him stiffen, clamping his rectum around my aching penis,
gurgling, grunting, still fucking until the last of the spasms
had faded.

'One', I counted to myself. Triumphantly, I slowed my pace to
gentle stabbing in his suddenly slackened bowels. All resistance
had vanished. I wanted to kiss him, to tell him how much I loved
him, but this was neither the time nor the place. In my haze of
lust I remembered reading stories on the Internet, of men having
anal sex with young boys, of the constant reference to the man's
penis as an 'invader'. How inappropriate! This was no invasion.
Possession, yes! A sense of ownership, of belonging together, and
strange though it might seem, even of protecting him from a world
that wanted to do him harm. In a way, I owed it all to Martin. He
had done what I could not have done by myself. I loved Skye too
much to run the risk of losing him. There was no way that I would
have inflicted the injury that necessarily came from a man's
'invasion' of a young boy's virgin body without overwhelming
reason.

Vaguely, I was aware of Martin moving towards the open door,
grateful that the absence of his taunting voice would allow the
boy to bask in the glow of his orgasm. As soon as he was gone, I
stopped moving. Slowly, Skye's eyes opened and he smiled.

"You feel so good," he whispered.

"So do you."

"Don't take him out. You haven't come yet," he announced.

"How do you know? If feels pretty sloppy in there."

"I didn't feel you squirt. And besides, you didn't go all weird."

"Weird?"

"You get a funny look and you kinda go crazy."

"Ah, the joys of climax," I smiled. "You'll have to wait until
next time I'm afraid. I have to go to the bathroom."

I eased away, dragging my very erect penis back a few inches,
feeling Skye's efforts to hold me inside him. But those desperate
squeezes were in vain. He could no more stop me than I could stop
what I was going to do. He gave me an exasperated look as my
penis came free of its hot, slimy-wet abode. Absently, I looked
down. The boy's hole was now wide open. Like my penis and the
surrounding smooth-shaven skin, it glistened with a sheen of oily
paste. The opening was fully dilated, revealing the red lining of
his rectum. I paused above my boy, lingering, still wanting to
ejaculate my seed into his body and strengthen the bond that now
existed between us. Instead I leaned down and lightly kissed his
lips.

"When he comes back, tell him I had to go to the bathroom," I
said softly.

Skye nodded. As I climbed off the bed, his fingers reached behind
him. He absently stroked his wide-open anus, trailing through the
greasy fluid that had accumulated between his cheeks.

"You felt good," he said softly. "I love you."

"It's mutual. I love you too," I returned. I started towards the
door. "I won't be long."

"I know that. You'd better hurry. He could come back in here any
moment."

I was still in the bathroom with the door closed when I heard
Martin's footsteps returning to the bedroom. Their voices were
muffled through the walls, yet I heard enough to know what was
happening.

"Where's your dad?"

"....bathroom,.... Wow!"

"... you forgot how big it was?"

".... fuck me,.... I want,... so bad...."

I heard the sound of the bed springs. Martin was sitting down. I
breathed out and counted off the seconds as I tried to control my
panic.

"Lie on your belly.... Get your ass up higher,... fuck you,...
fag-boy."

".... don't want,...."

At that point my hands were clenched tightly and I was unable to
stop myself. I hurried from the bathroom, back into the bedroom
where Skye was.

"No! I don't want to. I want you to stop it!"

"You know you want it. You want me in your ass."

"I don't! Get the hell off me!"

"You want me to fuck you."

"Go fuck yourself!"

I rounded the corner and stopped in my tracks. Martin was almost
nude. His shirt was discarded beside the bed and his jeans were
around his ankles. He was kneeling over Skye's body, trying to
keep the boy in position long enough to penetrate him. His penis
was huge, a gnarled stump that stuck out perpendicularly from his
body. It was clear that Skye wanted no part of him, especially
that part that extended out from Martin's hairless crotch. Skye's
legs flailed out, then his arms as he tried to push Martin away,
difficult enough lying on his belly. Martin laughed at the boy's
feeble efforts to dislodge him. He pushed Skye's head back into
the pillow savagely and gripped the boy's arms close to the
shoulder to hold him still. He lifted up and started to guide his
huge, blunt-ended penis forward again. It was like a club, a
weapon of human flesh that would tear Skye's body apart.

I stepped closer, aware that Skye could see me, hoping that he
did not give the game away. Surprise was essential. Surely Martin
could hear my heart pounding. Skye's eyes were wide open. I could
see the fear in his eyes, fear that came from his impending rape,
and fear that I might kill Martin.

I stopped. I was shaking, wondering where my will had vanished
to. I wanted to kill the man, yet I could not do it. Martin
grunted and momentarily interrupted his attempt to sodomize Skye.
He glanced to his side, saw me there, started to smirk knowingly.
He still pointed his rampart sex between the boy's buttocks. One
hand had parted Skye's small cheeks and directed his penis to its
target. Already the head was out of sight.

"Tell the him to lie still," he growled menacingly. "Or I going
to fucking cum all over his back."

Then, Martin looked up. He saw my anger.

"GET OFF HIM!" I bellowed.

"Jesus! What the fuck. I thought you wanted me to fuck him," he
babbled. His voice was almost incoherent.

The impulse to hit him over me. It was only Skye's frantically
shaking head that stopped me from doing anything.

"Get off him," I repeated.

Suddenly my storm of anger had dissipated into a calm of reason.
Martin crawled off Skye, his thick veiny penis bobbing in
frustration. He glared at me. His eyes were panicked. Instantly,
Skye jerked away. He drew his legs up close and huddled in the
distant corner of the bed. Like me, like Martin, he was
trembling.

"Just fucking clam down," Martin demanded. "He wanted me. You
said it was okay if I fucked him."

I shook my head. "Don't be an asshole. Martin. He changed his
mind. He has the right to do that. It's the only rule. Skye can
do whatever he wants if the other person wants to as well. It
works the same in reverse. If he doesn't want to, he doesn't have
to."

It was hard not to smile as I looked at the man. His erection had
wilted. The large limp appendage flopped uselessly against his
pale smooth crotch. However, it was not amusing to think that the
man would have taken Skye's virginity with it if Skye had not
cried out in pain. Momentarily, I considered cutting the damned
thing off with a knife.

"Get dressed, Martin," I said, holding out his shirt.

He looked at me fearfully. My breathing slowly began to return to
normal, but my brain was till churning.

"You're drunk! I want to finish what I started with Skye and I
want you out of here well before then."

"No!" Despite the alcohol, his voice was resolute. "I'm staying
here with you. I'll watch, if you don't mind."

"Why? Haven't you had enough?"

Skye glared at Martin. "I don't love you," he said softly. "It'd
be different if I loved you."

Martin started to put his clothes on. He said nothing for a few
seconds.

"Aren't you worried your old man isn't going to fuck you?" Martin
chided. "You're so horny all you want is a man's cock in your
ass?"

Skye glanced at me sideways and I smiled and shrugged. Despite
his drunkenness, Martin was still trying to torment him.

"He's exactly like you, fag-boy. Maybe your father doesn't have
the balls for it," he laughed crudely. "He's a bottom, just like
you are. He likes his boys to fuck him."

"Don't pay any attention to him," I said firmly.

"Hey, fag-boy, you're missing the opportunity of a lifetime,"
Martin taunted as Skye slide off the bed and stood beside me.
"Why don't you climb on top of me and ride this horse-cock of
mine." He laughed, slowly gliding his hand up and down the
stretched skin of his penis.

"No I didn't," Skye retorted. "He loves me. You don't. You just
want to fuck my ass."

Martin's mouth turned down, then he looked towards me.

"And he doesn't? Wake up, Skye. You father's a boy lover. He's
like me in that respect. He'll dump you as soon as you start
getting hair around your dick."

"Skye?"

"Once you get to be a teenager, he'll find someone else."

"Skye?" I implored.

"I've had boys before you, and I'll have boys after you. Tell him
it's true, Alex," Martin ordered. "He has to know what to expect
as he gets older. After all, he's only got a few more years left
before you don't want him."

"How could you?" I said angrily. I stopped and stared at him.
"You bastard!"

Martin laughed. "But it's true, Alex. And what's more we both
know it that boy of yours wants it. Hell, he wants it even more
than I did at his age. When he went into the rest room with me,
he only got what he wanted. I would have finished the job
tonight. I bet he'd get off on it. I know he wants my cock. "

"You,... you perverted monster," I said, shaking my head.

"Am I?" Martin grinned. "Why don't you ask him, Alex? I bet he's
still interested. If you weren't here, he'd have half of my cock
in his butt and he be starting to like it."

"Asshole!"

"What are you afraid of? Are you afraid he'll say yes?"

"No! He's free to do whatever he wants, with whoever he wants.
Maybe one day he'll do it with you, Martin. However, it'll be
when he's ready. When he wants to."

MOUSE Studio IV, June 28th, 2000

"Scene 22, Take 1. Action."

Aarie stood up, still shaking. He looked around, taking in
unfamiliar surroundings. His eyes were unfocused, cross-eyes,
wild-eyed. His jaw trembled. He started to walk, unthinking, away
from blue wall, leaving a make-believe shimmering fractured plane
behind him. He stopped at the edge of the grass, extended a foot,
brushed his toes through the long green strands, shivered when he
felt sensations unlike any that he was used to. The camera never
went lower than his navel, or higher than mid thigh. It was clear
that he was naked. Upon hearing the sound behind him, he whirled
around, not covering himself like any normal boy. His hair was
standing up in colored bristles, reminiscent of a warrior from an
Iroquois tribe, or a young boy who had once danced in the Shawnee
Valley Annual Fifth Grade Show.

"Cut! Okay, that's a take. Get the next scene set up and the rest
of you take fifteen minute break."

I handed Skye a dressing gown. He slid his arms through the
sleeves and tied the cord at the front, hiding the low-cut red
Speedo that he was wearing.

Skye grinned. "We've got fifteen minutes, Dad?"

I touched his shoulder and together we started to walk towards
the trailer parked under the trees. My penis was as hard as a rock
before we were halfway.