Date: Sun, 25 Mar 2018 13:10:18 -0400 From: The Paternal Watcher Subject: Circle of life I had moved into my new home in the dead of winter, and hadn't had a chance to do much more than unpack the essentials by the time the snow started to melt. The new job -- the signing bonus for which had made buying rather than renting a possibility -- had taken up a lot of hours as I set up an entire office, hiring a score of people and making sure that they were properly trained. Finally, though, I was starting to feel like I could work only five days a week, and less than ten hours on some of those days. With my leisure time expanding and the outdoor temperatures rising, I was starting to feel a deep yearning that I knew full well would not go away until it was released. I needed to find a new coven. I've been Wiccan for about twenty years -- since I was in my teens -- and the last eleven were all part of the same coven. A lot of people get most of their Pagan contact entirely online, so I felt blessed to have a group to practice with, and because it was a lot more stable than most. Yes, I had been trying to do full moon ritual on my own, but it just wasn't the same. It was to the internet I turned at first, not to find a coven directly, but to find out where the Pagans are: local metaphysical shops. Whether it was luck or the will of the universe, I was surprised to discover that there was actually one right in my new hometown, which was about a half hour's drive from the small city where I now worked. I took a walk over there the next Saturday afternoon, and immediately liked the vibe of the place. It was called "Threefold Treasures," and a sign by the register was definitely another Wiccan in-joke: "The Law of Return is threefold," it proclaimed, "1) don't open it, 2) don't lose your receipt, and 3) store credit only." Covering the shelves were tarot decks, crystals, Pagan books, herbs, and witchy-looking jewelry; in short, everything I was expecting from a place like this. Better still, they held circle every single week on Saturday night. It was warm enough to hold ritual outside, which is the only reason I was able to get on the list. Apparently these circles were in high demand, and in the winter months the spots were given to the regulars first, meaning I would have had no chance. Things were going pretty well, and I hadn't even cast a spell to make it so. Clearly I was meant to be here now. I hurriedly went back to my place to dig up my ritual robe and accoutrements. Many Pagans are environmentalists, but most of us drive to rituals because we have so much crap that we like to show off when we get together. I wouldn't be able to wear my cloak tonight (too warm), but I needed to make a good impression. Wear the torc, I decided, but leave the antlers at home until the lay of the land could be figured out. Some circles only let the priest wear symbols of the Horned God. If this one had a problem with my Green Man regalia, though, we might have to fight. My robe is ivory cotton, with a keyhole head that, like the front and bottom hems, was lined with an oak-leaf trim. On the back was an embroidered Green Man face that started about an inch below the neck and was twenty inches in diameter. It was gorgeous, and I only didn't wear it when there was a really good reason. I hadn't actually been given a dress code or anything like that, and I was not actually worried about it. My instincts proved correct: everywhere was flowing fabric when I got back to the store and was shown around back to where the ritual was being held. Even the little ones had on outfits designed more for flare and fantasy. I was surprised that of the 30 or more people gathered (this was going to be a BIG ritual; I wasn't the last to arrive), at least a dozen were kids ranging from babes in arms to awkward teens. People were very friendly, and one of the regulars took me around to make introductions. It was dizzying, and I probably would remember none of the names, except for one. Hunter. Pagans sometimes give their kids the coolest names, but that wasn't why he stood out. No, he caught my attention because he made eye contact and shook my hand firmly, which was unusual for two reasons. First, Pagans tend to be huggers. Second, Hunter was just 14 years old, and boys that age typically are NOT huggers, and in fact avoid all eye and hand contact. That he was simply stunning was really just a bonus at that point. I didn't have time to dwell on it, because the ritual soon started, and it kept me busy. It would be disrespectful to share details about what happened because it's a sacred ceremony; suffice to it say that there was a lot of moving around the space and joining hands. During one portion I clasped Hunter's hand, and found it warm, soft, and firm. At another point he was across from me, and his green eyes found me, again and again, and not at all shyly either. He smiled whenever we looked at one another, which made me want to look all the more. Wiccans might use more fires in their ceremonies than people in mainstream religions, but many of our ways would be very familiar to the average Protestant. For example, after the ritual there was a period of socialization with snacks, which is a lot like a church coffee hour. Most everyone there was interested in getting to know a bit more about me, and that's when I got a chance to talk some with Hunter and his dad. Turned out the three of us were all comic book fans, and pretty much agreed on which television and movie version were excellent (Daredevil, the Avengers) and which really sucked (Superman, Green Lantern). His dad and I were of a similar age and we ended up swapping stories about old story lines, like when Speedy was addicted to heroin and the time that Superman grew a bunch of extra arms due to exposure to red kryponite. Delightfully, Hunter followed along and didn't think we were embarrassing; for some reason, this kid loved his old man. Mom was not in the picture, I learned, but not in a bad way: she'd moved in with her girlfriend across the country, but kept in touch. Well, maybe it was bad, but it wasn't tragic; father and son seemed happy, at least. I also learned that Hunter was 14 and in the school drama club, which was putting on "The Glass Menagerie" later in the month. "I remember reading that play when I was in school," I admitted, "but I can't remember anything about it." "It's no comic book, but it has its charms," said Dave, Hunter's father. "You should come see it." Hunter's eyes lit up. "Yeah, you totally should! It's my first play in high school," he explained. His eyes then turned downward a bit, and he added, "It should be really cool for the audience, but I guess we're not having a cast party this time." "Why not?" I asked. The boy sighed. "The girl whose house we were going to totally bailed on us!" he said with agitation. "She's going to be in Europe with her parents. Luckily she was done with the set painting she was doing, but no one has a house that's available and has adults there to chaperone." "You know," I said, "my house is awfully big for just me, and it comes with its own adult." Hunter's eyes lit up with excitement, but Dave wasn't as sure. "Do you understand what you'd be getting yourself in for? This would be 20-30 teenagers." "Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't do it without help," I said. "Are you volunteering, Dave?" "I'll volunteering to check your place out and see what I think as a father, does that help?" I agreed, and Hunter was guardedly excited. Dave agreed to come by Sunday afternoon. What makes my house nice isn't its size, it's the privacy. I could take a leak off my front step and none of my neighbors would see me do it. I pointed that out to Dave, but I also told him I planned on locking doors to the bedrooms as well as my office, to minimize places where hanky-panky could occur. We talked about recruiting additional chaperones from among the other parents, which was when I realized Dave was sold on the idea. Hunter was, I later learned, elated. While I was prepared to have a party at my house, I wasn't expecting he would want to basically case the joint with his friends first. A second layer of approval was needed, from the kids themselves. This time, it was more about how to decorate, where to dance, and whether a live band was possible (it was not, I firmly informed them). In small groups they came by evenings after rehearsal to add some decorations. The lineup changed, but each night Hunter was among them. As cast parties go, it seemed a little tame to me, but then again I probably have embellished my own youth in the years since it actually happened. Four adults were more than enough to be a presence among about 30 kids without making them feel oppressed. No one seemed to mind the lack of booze, although I'm pretty sure a few slipped outside for a nip of something or other. Most of the night involved singing songs from the show again. Hunter did produce a deck of tarot cards at one point, and I watched with interest as he read for three or four of his friends. When he gathered up his cards and announced he was done, he turned to me and said, "If you want I can read your cards tomorrow." "Sure," I said. I hadn't actually asked, but I realized I was curious what he'd have to say about me. I usually just read for myself, which to some people is the foolhardiest approach ever. Fool is not necessarily a negative label in the world of Wicca, but reading for oneself is thought by some to remove an important aspect of divination, the dispassionate reader. It would be nice to have that again, I told myself, but I was also interested in how he read in general. I guess I wasn't the only curious one, because Hunter was at my door right after school. He'd brought his deck -- the Rider one -- with him in his book bag, and had them in hand when I opened the door. "You ready?" he asked. I smiled. "I guess I'd better be. Come on in." Some readers use more flash and panache then others. It can set the tone for divination as a respectful art, but it can also just be to sell it as a service. Just as one doesn't sell a dirty car as quickly as a clean one, a tarot reading without a little incense or a candle might be greeted with derision by the somewhat skeptical. Hunter just had his cards and a cloth to lay them on. "No props?" I asked. "I figured a theater kid would be more into props." "Shut up," he said with a smile, then he began shuffling the cards. When he was done, he handed me the deck. "Cut it in three piles," he instructed, "and think about what you want." I kept a straight face, or at least I thought I did, but Hunter said again, "Shut up!" with a laugh. "Seriously," he added, and I did as I was told. He picked up the three piles in a different order, cut it once again himself, and laid out four cards in a diamond shape. "This card is your true desire," he said, turning over the ace of wands. "This one is what's blocking you." It was another ace, this time of cups. "Here are the internal forces impacting the situation," Hunter went on, revealing Temperance, "and these are the external forces you have to factor in." The last card was the eight of wands. He looked at the cards for a time quietly, and then back at me. "Can I be blunt, Darren?" he asked, and I nodded. "You want to get laid and you need to get laid, but you're afraid if it's not true love it will turn to shit. Sometimes sex is just sex." I laughed. "That's definitely not something your dad would tell you, I'm thinking." "Yeah, but you're not a teenager like me. I'm horny all the time and that can get confusing. You're old enough to know better." Ouch, schooled by a kid! "I may be old enough to know better, but being horny is still hard," I shot back. Hunter laughed. "I see what you did there," he said, unconsciously adjusting his package as he did. My eyes were drawn to that act, and he noticed. "What?" he said, trying to act serious about it, but blushing just the same. "I remember what it's like," I said. "You want to talk about sex, but every time you do your dick is all like, 'ooh, sex, can I please?'" He laughed, and blushed even more. "The trick is to learn that just because you want to get your rocks off doesn't mean you should be embarrassed about it, Hunter. We're Pagan, and we should remember that sexual feelings are natural, and not embarrassing." "How would you even learn that?" he asked. "I actually learned in a men's ritual I once did. I could show you, if you wanted, but it's pretty hard." Cards forgotten, Hunter looked at me intently. "What would I have to do?" he asked. "This ritual is done skyclad, Hunter. You understand?" The boy nodded; he knew that it was a word for being unclothed in sacred space. "There is touching involved, with magical intent. Is there any place you wouldn't want to be touched? If so, we should talk about that." He took a few moments, thinking that over, before responding, "No, that's okay." "Okay, then I'll get a candle. Would you prefer to wait until I turn the light out before getting undressed? Keep in mind that I'll be lighting a candle." "Yeah, let's do it that way," he said. His belt was already loosened. I set a stout candle holder on the floor, placed matches beside it, and flipped off the light. Before doing anything else, I took a moment to center myself, and ground my excitement. A few controlled breaths and I felt more alert, more focused, and definitely more limp. I quickly removed my clothes and pushed them into a pile, out of the way. "Ready?" I said. "Yeah," came the reply, with a slight quaver. "Let this flame be our center, let this flame be our focus, let this flame be our shared experience," I said, striking the match and blinding me. As I recovered, I spied the candle and lit it, settling the room into a soft, warm glow. Hunter faced me over its flame, his slender body seemingly dancing in the candlelight. I drank in his slender, creamy, naturally-smooth beauty. The only body hair I could see was a visible patch above his penis, which was as flaccid as my own. "Okay," I began. "We're going to cast a circle by tracing the outline of each other's bodies with our fingertips. Just do to me what I do to you at first, but we'll follow each others' leads as we go on from there. Does that make sense?" "Yup," he said. His lips were tight and he appeared to be concentrating. "If you body responds in any way, just acknowledge it but don't dwell on it. If you need to laugh at a fart or get embarrassed by a boner, that's okay, but then ground the feeling out. We might build a lot of energy and if we try to control our bodies it's just going to get frustrating." He breathed out, and seemed a little more relaxed. "Are you ready to begin?" I asked. "Definitely," he said. I reached out and placed my fingertips over Hunter's third eye, in the center of his forehead. He did the same, and because he was shorter his arms ended up between mine. I traced upward to the crown of his head, bending my own to allow the boy the same access. That position afforded me a pleasant view of his body from his nipples to his toes. We traced our fingertips to the left shoulder, down along the arms, and across each other's fingers and palms, sending a chill through me. Moving back up that arm, I lingered as I caressed his smooth underarm, trying to gauge just the right amount of pressure to avoid tickling him. His own fingers traced through the hairs my body had sprouted under there, which his as yet did not. I could feel the magical energy building as our fingers ran down each other's ribs to the outside of the leg and over the foot. The process was not just magical, but also intensely physical: yes, magic and emotion are deeply tied to the body, but here we had to maintain balance while bending over, and also not clunk our heads together in the process. I felt Hunter's hands caress and trace the outline of my foot as I did the same, and then we started back up the inner side of the left leg. As my fingers wandered up Hunter's calf I could feel hairs which did not show up easily in the low light. As I passed his knee I felt him tremble slightly and paused, his own fingers now lightly resting on my inner thigh. "You good?" I asked. He nodded, and started moving his own hands up. Per the rules of engagement, my own fingers lightly stroked up his inner thigh as we each drew closer to the genitalia. He tentatively touched my scrotum even as I felt his warm sack with my fingertips. We lightly traced up the thigh and over the left testicle, then my fingers settled into his soft pubic hair, eliciting another tremble from him. I paused again, and realizing Hunter had stopped breathing, proceeded to his penis itself, which had responded to our acts. He exhaled with an explosive sigh, and grabbed onto mine firmly. I began lightly tracing around his raging erection, but Hunter wouldn't have that. He clutched and tugged my cock, thrusting his own forward between my legs. "Please," he said. "That's a different kind of magic," I whispered, and he replied by thrusting again and leaving his body pressed hard against my own. I felt my cock pulsing as it rubbed up against his smooth trunk. "Okay," I said, moving a hand to his ass and squeezing lightly. "Let's set some intentions." Burying his face in my chest, he said, "To have the best nut ever." He began thrusting. "How about, to have the best nut so far?" I suggested. "Yesss," he said. "I really want to cum." I picked up his slender form and went into the bedroom, depositing him on the bed. "Your wish is my command," I said. He lay before me, legs and arms splayed around a penis clearly in need of release. He beckoned to me with it, flexing the muscles that lifted it up towards me in greeting. I responded by sliding my body upon his smaller form, and as we came together he sighed. I nuzzled his face and neck as I thrust against his boner, aware that even as turned on as he was, he might consider kissing to be too much. Hunter did not: he put his hand behind my head to draw our mouths together, and wrapped his legs around me as we began to kiss and hump. We became slick from our exertions, although it was unclear how much was from sweat and how much from desire. Our lips created a seal within which our tongues sang a duet of harmonizing hormones. Hunter pulled me closer with his legs, and I felt one hand clutch my butt and shove me into him. I pulled back and thrust, and as I did my dick changed its mark and instead slid between his young thighs. He moaned aloud, said to me, "Like that!" I pulled up and studied his face to be sure, then took cock in hand and lined it up. His eyes blazed with desire as I moved in, touching head to hole, sliding my excretions on his contracting muscle, when with a shudder he began to ejaculate. That one touch put him over the edge, and as I felt his sphincter clench against my frenulum he did the same to me. I slid up against him again, covering his mouth with mine as I released alongside his still-spurting shaft. As I felt the energy shoot from me to join the universe, I lowered myself down and kissed him again. Hunter returned the gesture tenderly, and though I'd planned on lying beside him, pulled me to rest upon his slight frame instead. The boy broke our kiss and whispered, "That was amazing. It really was magic." I smiled. "You reached your intention, then?" Laughing, he said, "I guess!" "Hunter, I won't swear you to secrecy about this, but I will get in a lot of trouble if anyone knows I shared this with you." "I know how to 'remain silent,'" he said, referencing the "witch's pyramid," and then added, "Besides, if you went away we could never do this again. Don't worry about me. I knew you were the one when we met." "Just promise me you'll tell me first if you ever feel differently, okay?" He punched me, lightly. "Not gonna happen. Remember, sometimes sex is just sex, but sometimes, it's magic." --------------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoyed the preceding work of fiction, please consider donating to Nifty. Every dollar goes a long way. I am delighted to be listed as a prolific net author; you can find a current list of my Nifty contributions by visiting https://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#paternalwatcher. Here's a list which is current when this was published: - Adult-youth - Are you? http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/are-you - Appreciating the arts http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/appreciating-the-arts - Birthday boy http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/birthday-boy - Can I help with that? http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/can-i-help-with-that - Coffee shop boys http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/coffee-shop-boys - Diary of adventure https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/diary-of-adventure/ - Eclipse http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/eclipse - Hot summer http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/hot-summer - Hungry for love http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/hungry-for-love/ - It started at the swim meet https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/it-started-at-the-swim-meet - Just being friendly http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/just-being-friendly/ - Overalls http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/overalls - Pillow fight http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/pillow-fight - Tutu http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/tutu - Unexpected bet https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/unexpected-bet - War boys http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/war-boys/ - Whatever happens https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/whatever-happens - High school - Suspenders http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/highschool/suspenders - Young friends - Junior High series http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/junior-high-series/ - Scouting for boys https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/scouting-for-boys-series/ - Summer homework http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/summer-homework