Date: Thu, 21 Jan 2010 13:10:58 -0700
From: dnrock@rock.com
Subject: Of Boy and Boy 1

Once again I need to admonish the reader, this story will contain
descriptions of sex between men and boys, men and men, boys and boys.  If
this is not legal for you to read or you are offended by such things, don't
read it.  If however, you are anything like this author, you will ignore
any admonitions that suggest censorship.  The usual rules apply to posting
rights and copyright, etc. I hope you enjoy this story.  It is that, a
fictional story. My story speaks to many things besides lust.  On a word
count basis, I would guess, (I did not bother to count) lustful sex is a
rather minor component.  This, as in my other efforts, is an attempt to
present, a good story well told.  I leave that judgment to you the reader.


Of Man and Boy
by:  dnrock(dnrock@rock.com)

1:  In The Beginning

The boy slept, completely relaxed, limply draped over Paul's chest.  His
diminutive blond head pressed tightly against Paul's left shoulder.  His
slow steady breathing timed to Paul's.  His arms spilled over Paul's body
limply hanging at his sides.  His thin legs spread just wide enough to
clear Paul's narrow hips.  Paul could feel the boy's penis pressing gently
against his abdomen.  Their naked bodies touching at every possible point.
Paul slowly moved his arms, to gently engulf his little sleeping mate.  His
large, long fingered hands, slowly slipping along the boys back, coming to
rest on his legs, just above the knee and back up to the lad's butt.  Paul
had always dreamed of having a boy of his own.  He had always wondered if
any boy could possibly love him as much he loved his man?  He had always
wondered if he could love a boy with the passion and devotion his man loves
him with?  He now knew, at least one other boy could love as deeply and
infinitely as he.  He also knew he was capable of that same love, passion
and devotion he is shown.

Paul kissed his boy on the forehead.  His boy smiled and slowly opened his
light blue eyes and pressing his face into Paul's neck began kissing him
and wiggling his body against his man, as if trying to merge their bodies
together.  It was love at first meeting for Paul, his heart opened, the lad
rushed in the opening and pulled it closed behind himself.  How an eight
year old boy could capture his very being was a complete mystery to Paul.
After all he is a skilled and experienced 30 year old pediatrician and "boy
trainer."  Sure he is a boy lover too, he always was, his preference is 14
±.  He has never completely fallen in love with a specific boy before, not
like this, not the same way he loves his man.  Paul was a man's boy since
he was about 11.  He was almost 13 before he realized how completely
devoted he was to his man.  Not like Grant.  Grant latched on to him the
day he arrived and has clung to him like a leach ever since.  The only time
Grant is not at his side is when he is seeing a patient or in the operating
room.

"Grant do you remember what today is?"

"Sure dad, it is my birthday?"

"Your birthday?"  Paul lowered his eyebrows in his standard questioning
expression.  The boy's birthday is six months away.

"Yes, it is the day you fuck me and I am reborn as your butt boy."

"I see but you know you are not just my butt boy, you are my son who I love
more than anything."  Paul kissed Grant several times.  His hands still
remained planted on the boys ass.

"I know that.  I love you too dad but you promised if I passed the test
yesterday you would worship at my temple."  Paul pulled his butt cheeks
apart and gently ran his index finger over the boy's anus.  Grant giggled.
The boy had been begging him to take his cherry for weeks now.  Paul did
not think his little body could accommodate his 9 inches of length and 1.5
" of diameter.  He had promised, if Grant could take his largest training
dildo, without pain or difficulty, he would fuck the boy but only in the
boy superior position.  Grant had been training himself, under supervision,
with a series of dildo's and butt plugs, some of which are expandable,
stretching his anus a little each day.  Paul knew the boy was almost ready
when he easily took three of his fingers for a prostrate massage.

"Ok son lets get up and do our morning hygiene tasks first."  When in their
island home they are almost always naked.  Paul does not like clothing,
never has.  Grant likes the idea that Paul can access his boyhood for
feels, kisses and as much other attention possible.  Paul likes the idea
that Grant or any of this trainees can access his penis at will.  He sure
likes to be sucked by a pair of young supple lips.  This morning while Paul
is shaving, something he needs to do about every third day, Grant locked on
his penis head and scrotum giving them as much attention as his eight year
old mouth and hands are capable of.

Paul stretched out on the bed, his erection standing proudly up straight
and tall.  He hoped the boy would back down from his bravado.  That was not
about to happen.  Grant was determined to demonstrate his skills and his
dedication to his man.  Grant's little hands quickly coated Paul's phallus
with lube.  He scrambles up sitting on dad's chest collects several tongue
probing kisses, squats over his man's cock, pulls his but cheeks apart and
impales himself.  He lowers himself on the phallus in one smooth movement,
just as he had practiced with the dildos, sliding down until his smooth
skin is in firm contact with Paul's well trimmed pubic bone.  Grant can
feel Paul's balls, this brings a smile to his face and a giggle to his
voice.  It didn't take long for these two to get into a passionate rhythm.
Grant's ass was incredibly tight but he had learned how of position his
hips to maximize prostrate contact and with Paul's added attention to his
little penis both males experienced a truly extraordinary orgasm.

Grant collapsed on Paul's chest kissing him, while trying to hold on to the
phallus, still filling his rectum.  It was a loosing battle, the shrinking
member was finally expelled by the boy's sphincter.  Grant did manage to
retain most of Paul's ejaculate in his body.  Paul had never seen a boy as
happy as Grant.  He remembered how much he enjoyed sex with his man and he
witnessed the joy in his students following their training.  Paul had
fucked many young butts before but this was the first time he had a strong
emotional attachment.  It is the first time he understood the feeling his
man and at least some of the other men he trains for, experiences; when the
boy you fuck, is the the boy you love.  Paul judged it good, very good in
fact.

Somehow Grant must have understood this would result.  As a boy Paul must
have understood it too, but he didn't remember for sure.  His situation had
been different.  He learned to love his man and his man him, after some
time together, but he and Grant had formed the emotional bond from the
first.

...............................  Stepping back in time:

"Dad?" Grant was laying on Paul as he did when they slept.

"Son."  Paul kissed him on the forehead and the nose.

"Am I really your son and are you really my dad?"

"I am, why?"

"Oh, I want to be your son and your boy.  I want to be a medical doctor
like you too."

"That sounds good to me.  How about your name, are you happy with that
too?"

"I want your family name, I want to be called Paul Grant Strum the Third.
Did you take Paul when you were adopted?"

"No, it just happened that my dad and I had the same first name.  It did
take me two years to decide though."

"Did you know your birth parents?"

"Only my mother who died when I was 11 and her parents, who were very old.
They were nice people but there was no way they could take care of me.  I
was lucky, my dad knew grandpa and I guess my mom too.  My dad also knew my
sperm donor but he would never tell me his name or anything about him.
None of them would."

"How do you know?"

"I once overheard him telling someone on the phone that if he ever showed
his face within a mile of the boy, meaning me, he would kill him.  Dad
would never talk about it and forbid me to ever ask.  Since that was about
the only thing he ever forbid me from doing or asking, I just kept quiet."

"Wasn't that hard, not to ask or wonder?"

"A bit at first but I was a lot older then you at the time and I knew dad
loved me and I loved him, so it was a small price to pay.  Now I know it
probably wouldn't matter one way or the other but it was important to the
adults at the time.  You understand Grant that you can never tell anyone
who your biological parents were, don't you?"

"Duh, if I am, the old Grant is supposed to be dead, killed when they were,
I guess I better not."

"Duh," they both laughed at Paul mocking Grant, "Not only could your life
be in danger, in the short run, but I would wind up in jail."  Grant looked
horrified.

"Oh, no I won't ever tell anyone, but what did you do."

"I knew you were alive, remember, I pulled you out of the ocean.  I did not
correct the police report of missing and presumed dead.  I kept you on this
island, made up a story about you visiting from the mainland.  The law
would consider that kidnapping.  I will have new birth certificate created
for you listing me as your father, and your mother's maiden name as your
mother, your time and date of birth the same but the place is grandpa's
ranch in Montana not Mobile.  If anyone asks and they will, your mom died,
the truth and you lived with grandpa until you came here.  You are not
adopted you are my son, period.  How does that sound."

Grant gave him a big kiss on the mouth.  "That sounds good to me dad.  My
birth parents never mistreated me and they did love me and tried to protect
me and I miss them a whole lot, but they were not nice people either.  I
may only be eight but being drug smugglers and taking along your small
children is...uh..."

"Inappropriate," Paul offered.  Grant nodded in agreement although Paul
figured he didn't quite realize how inappropriate it really was.  Grants
parents had been murdered by two buyers on their boat, in waters not far
from his island.  The killers did not know he was even on the boat.  When
the shooting started Grant did what he had been schooled to do.  He slipped
on a life jacket and dropped over the side.  Paul had found him the next
morning drifting into the cove.  It was quite by luck that he saw the
orange and yellow life vest bobbing in the gentle swells.

Maybe it wasn't just luck, Grant was in the company of several Bottle Nosed
dolphins.  The sea mammals are frequent visitors to his cove and often play
in the wake of his boat.  It was their jumping and activity that first
attracted Paul's attention.  It was as if they were signaling him, for they
stayed with the limp boy until he arrived and pulled Grant out of the
water.  Paul had never had these mammals this close to his skiff before,
something that didn't register in his mind until many hours later.

Paul's hands drifted over his son's back, butt and upper legs as they lay
together talking.  This is an intimate time, a time for lovers to share or
just let their minds wander, a time for reflection.

Paul started up a runabout and headed for the activity.  The boy was limp
in the water but breathing.  Just breathing.  He was dehydrated and
suffering from hypothermia.  Even in semitropical waters, a small body like
a child's, if in it long enough, can loose much body heat.

Paul pulled him into the shallow runabout.  Made a correct and instant
diagnoses of his condition.  Not having any kind of blanket or jacket, he
had to improvise.  Pulling off the life jacket and the boy's wet clothing
he lifted the small lad to himself, setting his legs around his waste and
pressing his small frail body against his chest.  Wrapped his right arm
around the boy and headed back to the dock, steering with his left.
Between the warm tropical sun and Paul's body heat, the lad began to come
around.  As soon as he realized someone had pulled him from the water he
pressed his body tight against Paul.  Once Paul looked into those blue eyes
and felt the frail youth clinging to him, he was hooked.  This boy was a
gift from the sea.  A gift he would treasure and nurture all of his life.
The son he so desperately wanted had materialized from Poseidon's realm and
was delivered to his care.  Paul beached the skiff, cutting the motor
before he bent the prop.

Grant and Paul drifted off to sleep, a mid morning nap as it were.  Their
expressions of passion had not drained them physically.  They both
experienced a tremendous emotional release and were now totally relaxed and
content.

Paul had tended to his new patient around the clock for the first two days.
Finally Grant came alive again.  Paul had re-hydrated him, wrapped him in
blankets and lay with him, to keep him warm.  Fed him broth and vitamins
and spent as much time as he could, which was most of it, within the lad's
physical grasp.  Even in his sleep, the only fully restful time was if Paul
was by his side.  The physical part was easy to repair, the emotional
trauma would be something else.  This was something Paul had little
training in and less experience with.  Sure he set lots of broken bones and
deals with hundreds of ailments.  The Virgin Islands are idyllic but they
still have their health problems.  This was something else.

It was on the third day the radio flashed the news.  A fishing boat, the
Jennifer, was found adrift off Hans Lollik Island.  The bodies of Grant's
parents were found shot to death and Grant was missing.  Grant froze with
the news and began to cry.  Normal reaction Paul thought.  Paul held the
child to him, as he did before, the boy's legs wrapped around his waste,
his arms around him under his own arm pits, with his body pressed against
his chest.  It was obvious Grant could identify or possibly could identify
the assailants.  Grant was terrified they would come to the island for him.
Paul reassured the boy he was safe and noting bad would ever happen to him
again.  "You are a gift from Poseidon and a gift from the gods must be
honored."  Grant looked at Paul with a puzzled expression.  Paul told Grant
about the Greek Gods and Goddesses.  Relating many stories, mostly those
involving Poseidon.

Fortunately, some of the boys Paul had trained in the past were small of
stature and had left clothing behind on the island.  When the police
visited to see if Paul had seen or heard anything, he admonished Grant to
stay in bed, he would tell the cops he was sick with the flue and they
should not disturb him.  He told them the boy was his son, on a visit from
Montana and his name was P. G.  It worked.  They ask Paul to keep an eye
out for the missing boy.  Showing him a poor snapshot of a 5 or 6 year old
child, that could be Grant but it could be any number of blond boys with
short hair.  Grant's hair was longer now and Paul decided to just let it
grow some.