Date: Sat, 2 Jan 2010 03:09:27 -0800 (PST) From: Tim Stillman Subject: g/m adult-young friends The Mouse Boys THE MOUSE BOYS By Tim Stillman The motor boat carried me to the island of Crete. It was summer and hot and I was tired and I had chase a ghost halfway around the world. Sometimes, I forgot his name of whether he ever was. As boys, we played together, studied together, shadow dreamed together; then comes a time and you must let thought go. We loved each other dearly, when we were children. I stayed a child. He didn't. You can't fault someone for growing up, for leaving the Island of lost boys behind. It is man's nature to forget, to be ashamed of later. For Golden memory to the city for you and in another's mind is shame is the worst torture of all; it turns to offal everything in your heart. And it causes you to doubt to your deepest core. There had been others for him. I came here to find him, because he was ineluctably magician. He was also a cliche, and a reader. Therefore, the island of Crete. We both are wealthy; our inheritance let us be free. I pulled my boat onto shore; I wanted a martini. I wanted sleep. I wanted to let go the fever pitch session. I don't know when it became known about him at all. I don't know when I stopped caring or loving him. I remember the night; the first one had been a part of summer dark, not like this. Late and I said, I said I love you, and he would turn away and run. He didn't though, he looked deep into my eyes and he said me too. And we were together. The sky was a blight dome, the stars were hidden, and also hidden, a magician of fine credentials. He was literally what he said, I had made him so. When one gravitates toward a God, the guide itself cannot be held accountable. I think I worshiped him. The first time I saw him, and I knew more than I admitted that I was doomed. He ran like summer he contemplated like winter. He thought before he said word, you see and feel and thinking considering patient and will of time and kind. When he turned away from that, he was forever through with you. I got it; it came suddenly, instantly, but slowly; I gathered he was not however part of a plot by psychiatrists, putting people through a maze. He was alone here, save, they were to tell me later, for his boys Greek and Mediterranean features, to swimming with him, being with him, making love with him, sleeping with him, caring for him. My fiberglass boat, as still as the wind; I was naked save for my shorts. I was hot and perspiring and for a moment. I wanted to get in the boat go back to the mainland and forget; but you don't spend money like this. And just forget. I wish to God I could. I've never been with anybody but him; the last time I read long was the last time for me. I saw the shadow boys before I realized what I was seeing. I was sitting on the beach. Maybe I was crying. Maybe I thought I could finally give this up, and I looked at them and they were shadows and shadows don't smile. Night carried in the form of human once upon a time. There was a certain taste I know, tropical old, rich with history. The taste of olives wrapped the taste of death the taste of divers and pearls in memories. Never mine. Dancing women with scarves and stars and Greek ouzo and pampered men become the islands to orchestrate their own immortality. The shadow boys moved toward me, imperceptibly, and I cannot move my body or my eyes from them. They were his; he had given them to me to keep me away from him. He had enough to spare, and I despaired as I looked up at the boys in shadows, standing round me, impossibly close, impossibly fast. There were naked, the bodies of tight muscular sensuality. The color was dusk, the eyes were dark and curious, as if I were in a spider's web, their territory. He sent them to make love to me. And I would feel like death inside. I was filled with betrayal, which was funny, actually. Betrayal by me of him. But then he always could play the superior at the game quite nicely. He always had the power hand over me; rapidly, collectively, the boys took me in their hands. They touched me. They held me. They made me be naked as they. They lay on me on the sand beach, and the water was close. I was crying, because I love them because they were he was always them; it was always like that I believe. I had always seen him in everyone and by rejecting them and they me, I was rejecting him. It was a game I played never alive till now. Now that I realize, what I had been doing all my life. There kisses wet and boy and warm on me and mine on them without the flights direction. I surrendered myself to them as they kissed me all over. And I kissed them the same way. They lay with me. I felt their penises all over my body, an estimate of me, an estimate of them. We came together. We all came together after that, and all I could think of -- -- here that showed it's hilarious -- -- it wasn't them. It was a miracle, was life. I was with naked boys who would do anything I asked; because that was his magic; his magic was negation. I felt I was on a desert with me in a boy oasis. And my God I hate them at that point; all those memories that time so long ago. We were together never but even then, for him. It was a release for me; it was everything. He had been tawny and blonde. These boys were dark as night. These boys tread softly. They were sensuous in that they knew everything to do and would turn me over in gentle hands and never miss a spider stitch, and I cried out in pain and pleasure in agony, and I call his name over and over again. And I was ashamed. It was wrong, without him. It was wrong with him. Did you send me a canvas to draw on? -- -- was a drawing always to be of you? Did your ego have to be that huge, are you just a cat with the mouse? We are the mouse boys, they thought, and I turned around and looked at them. And I said, he deceives you every step every turn. He deceives you because that is what magicians do. I can't help you; you have got to break away from him yourself. And they rolled away from me. One said in a squeaky kind of voice, He won't let us go he won't let us ever see someone we care for he won't let us go home. We have to pleasure him, actively him, be at his service always. And a boy was idly stroking my cock. I stroked his night hair. I traced his face. I looked up at the night sky that was so dark and they said run with us, forever more. I said, that casinos give you better odds, saltwater gives you better drink; the wine flows yellow trees blossom. The roads are narrow dirt, you can dive for second treasure masturbated by clams, prepared well in everyday dress. The seasons never change, you have Minotaurs and Gypsies, who will seduce you as soon as look at you. You won't have to pay money for them, because you're perfect, because you form the boy always. They said, but asleep with you till sunrise and we cuddled. I caressed the bodies of dust and used and savor. They kissed my mouth, a taste was all; the soul was endless. And they were his. Our bodies left impressions in the sand and the wind was 1,000,000 miles away and the water lapped and customs the cultures and traditions library books, in another world in another time, because we were our own books. I don't think the mouse boys as they later told me he called them talked to me verbally. It was all transmuted thought and desire, because suddenly for the first time in all these years since he since he went away without a word, I had desire. I had lost lust return to me as a favor, as I pushed the mouse boys off me and screamed out to where he was on this island tell the Minotaur. I'm not falling for this. I will not be played as a joke the clown a fool a patsy a sucker born every minute. The fight you took like it was up to you, like always. I looked at the heart of the world inside you. They were mouse boys, and nothing ever else they would be. They were mouse boys, and they trembled warm eager on top of me. And they turned me over, and they slept next to me. Like a God. But, who was God? Me them or you? And your magician friends had gone away, because you pushed them away because you want your servants to be your lovers. Have you not noticed the passing of time? Is everything secure with you? Are you your own bar sinister? Your own sinecure? Do hands that touched flesh whenever they need kill the flesh or feel as though all were grains of sand? The boys slep, I kept watch over them, because the night was long and the sky was hollow. They silently dreamed and their bodies. They tightly on me as if I was finally found freedom and saying in their dreams. Don't go away. Don't go away. I stroked their thick hair, their thin smooth bodies. I kissed their cheeks. One broke out in cries, and woke up, and I held him. Especially tightly, and I said, it's only a dream. Don't worry, he thought -- said -- it seemed the nightmare went on forever. I said it did not my love, was only for a second time. He held me round the shoulders, and he muffled the word into my chest. I kissed him, I held him. I loved him. Mice I thought do sometimes, indeed roar; and there are human Rosetta stones to dream on. At the time, I didn't know what was meant. Early morning, before sunrise, the mouse boys and I had dressed in shorts. They had food and wine for us to put it in my boat. Then, we boarded, the sky was turning pink and the depths full of life. But never for us to see or know or touch. I looked at the island as we sailed away. All white chalk to the magic carpet blue taking us home, taking us away. The mouse boys had their eyes on me, suspicious, their long tails quavered. Their mouse ears trembled. Their bodies were hairless and pink, their penises were small and the testicles too and different. Their teeth were mouse teeth that chatted. My friend, remember, and I remind you, was a magician. Who would do anything, utterly anything, to make a person feel like a fool of the world. I heard a sound like a trap being sprung and one more mouse trapped. Me. Again.