Date: Mon, 1 May 2000 22:20:14 -0700 (PDT) From: Wishus Teglin Subject: Three Weeks to Heaven, book 2, chapter 5 Three Weeks to Heaven Book Two, Chapter Five by Teglin and Ty teglin@excite.com Special thanks to Ty in this Chapter 5, for his help with the story line and writing, and for his invaluable insight into boylove. FOREWORD: As with Book One of this story, I am indebted to Ganymede for my inspiration to write. His stories remain the best in the boylove genre. I wonder how many men have come across one of Ganymede's stories, and found their innermost feelings and dreams validated, and thereby have come to embrace their love for boys as the positive good that it is. And again, this is dedicated to the boy, wherever he may be, who needs love and care. In short, dedicated to all boys, anywhere and everywhere. Copyright 2000 by Teglin. You may freely copy this boylove romance and distribute it. Please have the courtesy not to alter it in any way. WARNING: This boylove romance contains descriptions of sexual acts between men and minor boys. Their sexual relationships are very important to the story, as part of their love-making, but it is their spiritual relationship that I wanted to explore even more, as the very essence of boylove. If this story is illegal where you are, or for your age, or the concept of a man/boy relationship offends you, don't read further. Chapter 5 We got into Elizabethtown by midday, and worked our way through mud-slick streets -- runoff from the hydraulic blast mines that were tearing at the gullies above town. It had `future ghost town' stamped all over it, with false-fronted stores, more than one restaurant in a tent, and little sign of any municipal planning. A boom-town, it seemed. Destined to wash or blow away, as soon as the mines ran dry. We found directions to my friend's house. It was situated near the outskirts of the rough town, in an area obviously claimed by the more well- to-do. Professionals like Bill, engineers perhaps, or mine owners, who had either made it rich, or at least insisted on some pretense that Elizabethtown was home. No picket fences, with green lawns, to be sure, but at least Sanders home was a substantial, Mexican styled hacienda, presenting an adobe facade and arched entry way, situated right on the dirt track. The archway led into a small courtyard. At a glance, we could see stables to one side, probably a kitchen and servants quarters directly ahead, and to the right, no doubt Sanders living area. That section had some narrow flower beds hugging the wall, and a lattice-sided porch, with climbing roses. A small, wizened old Mexican came out from the stable. I suspect he had seen it all, in his many years, because he gave Demetrio and Rolando barely a glance of surprise, and said simply "Buenas dias, Senor", to me. Perhaps out of habit, the boys started to follow the old man, when we dismounted and he took the reins, then started towards the stables. I was about to call them back, when out from the residence burst Bill Sanders, shouting out a greeting. That stopped them, and I gathered them to me, one on either side. Bill was smiling, with that off-hand, non-challant manner I was so used to, when I first looked up. Then instantly he blanched, and a mask fell over his face, when he saw the two little boys I had in tow. I hadn't considered how startled he might be, to see Rolando and Demetrio, after just having lost his Joey. I had never seen Bill so ... nervous, uneasy. And suddenly, so unexpectedly reserved. Not even when I visited him at the time of his wife's funeral, and noted how withdrawn he was from his own son, Joey. Awkwardly he extended his hand to me, and in a voice hoarse with nervous tension, he said, "Welcome ... Teg." Even more awkwardly, he came closer and we embraced. I noticed his hesitant glance at Rolando, on my left. A fleeting glance, as if he were afraid to let his eyes rest on the boy's features. And then another, as if his eyes were like a moth drawn to a flame. Bill quickly regained his composure, and looked me square in the eye, with his arms outstretched on my shoulders, "I can't thank you enough for answering my call, Teg. I've been worried sick about Joey, and there's been nothing I could do but wait ...." "You knew I'd come, Bill," I said, as we embraced again, in a bear hug. Then standing back, I got right to business, "Any word from the authorities?" "Authorities? Oh ... ah ... no, Teg ... I, ah, couldn't call in ... the ...." "The hell you say!," I was taken aback. "What do you mean ...." "Teg!" he interrupted my remonstrance by holding up both his hands, and shaking his head, his lips so tightly closed that I thought he was about to cry. The grim look on his face, suddenly ashen, told me he had his reasons. I supposed I'd soon find out. "I ... I'll tell you all about it, Teg ... ah," he said, lowering his eyes to the ground, looking afraid, hurt, confused. He absently scuffed the hardened, adobe-like surface of the courtyard, with his boot, then suddenly seemed to regain his sense of time and place. Looking up, he said with forced cheer, and a false smile, "Now, come on in ... here ... Teg, and ... and ... your boys ... of course ...." He glanced at both the boys, and motioned to them to step forward. Quickly, nervously, he turned, and stooped to put one arm firmly around Demetrio's shoulder, to guide him into the house. He started to do the same for Rolando, but I saw his hand hover hesitantly over the older boy's shoulder, then draw back. His diffidence surprised me, because Bill Sanders had always been outgoing. A `slap-on-the-back' kind of guy. Yet I had noticed the same kind of hesitancy and reserve in him, when I had gone east for his wife's funeral, and he had seemed unable or unwilling to even touch his own son. Something about that tragedy, and this, that made him withdraw from a show of affection? I followed them up the steps into his house, wondering at the strange news that the authorities had not been imformed of Joey's kidnapping, and dismayed at Bill's apparent discomfort with Rolando, at least. I feared suddenly that I would have to find other accomodations for them. Some other refuge. The thought of packing them by themselves, on the train, off to Boston, was daunting. But Wishus had made the trip from the East, by himself. So I knew they could too. Damn! ------------------------- "You just out and out ... lied to me, Bill," I said quietly, twenty minutes later. I had to draw a breath halfway through saying it, out of sheer, dumbfounded consternation and disbelief. My first inclination was anger, but then, if not for Bill's telegram summoning me, I would never have met my Wishus. So I searched about for something I could be righteously angry about. "Now let me get this straight. You hired a ...." "No, I didn't hire him. He was sent out from Yale. He was studying engineering ...." I held up my hand for him to stop, giving myself time to think. Thank goodness the boys were off somewhere else in the house, probably in the kitchen, being fed. Bill's housekeeper had started mothering them as soon as she laid eyes on them. The only bright spot to the last twenty minutes. When she came in, and I saw that Sanders had a beautiful young Mexican lady in the house with him as housekeeper, I had jumped to obvious conclusions, and remarked with a leer, and a knowing nod towards her retreating form, "I see you're getting along nicely in terms of female companionship, Bill." He looked taken aback, and immediately blushed, when I saw that he had sneaked another surreptitious glance at Rolando, then answered mysteriously, "if ... only that were the case, Teg." He let his chin fall onto his chest, and continued dejectedly, shaking his head, "If only that were the case. None of this would have happened." Not the Bill Sanders I had always known. His glances at Rolando had been ostensibly furtive, shifty, yet almost unconsciously obvious, as if he had lost control of his faculties. I could only think that somehow the 12 year old reminded him of Joey. He had proceeded to tell me the story. Why I was summoned, what had happened to Joey. I listened, stunned, disbelieving. Wanting to grow angry, but only able to grow more confused at the unlikely picture that Bill painted. "Ok, now. This Indian -- oh, here's the first lie you told." I held up my hand, with my index finger up, shaking it at him. "This Indian, rather half- Indian, was no Comanche renegade, but from one of the civilized tribes, from a very settled part of Oklahoma Territory. Settled enough that he gets sent off to Yale!" "Two!" I held up another finger. "You don't need a tracker. You know where he comes from! Now God-damnit Bill, what in the living hell did you need me out here for!" I was getting angry, even knowing that it made no sense to. Thank goodness he had lied to me. I just could not fathom my best friend, someone I had known since we were kids back in Boston, someone whom I had roomed with at Yale, someone I had stood with at his wedding, and the funeral of his wife -- I could not fathom him lying to me. "I told you, Teg," Bill answered, still looking down, still shaking his head, as if in shame. "I ... couldn't ...." "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I heard you. You couldn't just jump on the train at Raton and make your way over there, because of what Joey might do. Oh yeah, that's going to take some explaining, Bill. You're his father, damnit! It was bad enough during the funeral, but now, don't you really care about Joey? You going to explain to me why you didn't contact the authorities, and get this half-breed's tail in jail? And get your son back?!" There, I had a reaon for fuming, finally. Not because I had been dragged over here with a lie, but because my friend's actions towards his own son's welfare seemed strange at best, and laggard, even uncaring, at worst. "What, you can't drag yourself away from your Mexican whore long enough to go after your own son?" I said the most outrageous thing I could think of, and immediately regretted it. I burned red, knowing I had done an injustice to Bill, and to his housekeeper, and even to Rolando and Demetrio. I had just taken them out of a situation where Rolando had been kept as a whore, for all practical purposes. I know Bill Sanders was no Big John Smalley, and I had no right nor reason to cast aspersions on his housekeeper. Bill gave me no chance to apologize. He slammed his fist on the table, and rose swiftly from his chair. Angrily, but without any sign of hate -- just pure anguish, he yelled, "you don't understand it Teg! And there's no way I can ever explain it!" Then he collapsed back down in his chair, buried his head in his hands, and burst out crying. I stood silently for a moment, still dumbfounded. More dumbfounded! Then I said through clenched teeth, "I apologize to Mrs. Martinez. I had no right to say what I did about her. I'm not apologizing to you, however, Bill. Now, I'm going out to get some supplies that I'll need to get to Joey. You had better be able to explain all this when I get back." He didn't even look up as I turned and stomped out. I instructed the old man in the stable to inform my boys that I would be back soon, then headed into town. ------------------------- The sight that greeted me when I returned several hours later, was certainly unexpected. Mrs. Martinez met me at the door, this time, and said Sanders and my boys were out in the garden. She directed me through, while taking charge of the items I deposited in the foyer. The house was dead quiet, as it should have been on a late afternoon, right after siesta time, with foot thick adobe walls all around. I walked on through the living room, into the study, and saw Rolando in the gardens, through the screened doorway in the left wall of the room. The brightness from outside made the study look dark, but right up against the wall, next to the door, Bill was standing, as if hiding from the boys out in the garden. In his apparently total concentration on the scene outside, he didn't sense my presence at the other doorway, and for some reason, I stopped dead still and quiet. Well, I know the reason. Everyone has those flashback experiences, when they see something, and it passes instantly through their mind, that they've seen this before, experienced this before, been here before. That's what happened to me. Here was Bill Sanders, my closest and most intimate friend since we were kids back in Boston, through our college days as roommates, and even after I had left for the West. Standing out of sight from the outside, peering around the door frame, at Rolando and Demetrio. I instantly saw him, in my mind, years ago, back in college, standing in the shadows, just back from our room window, looking out upon some picknicking families on the mall. Standing so quiet and pensive and intensely watching, as he was now ... with an erection tenting out the front of his pants ... as he was now. Back then, I had looked out onto the mall myself, and seen boys and girls playing around their parents, esconcenced on picnic blankets. There were a couple of coeds standing, talking, nearby, one of them his future wife. The boys caught my eye, especially one dark-haired munchkin with his shirt off! I got a hardon myself, then and there, but figured Bill was looking at those college girls. I had seen Bill like this once again, years later, after the funeral. Why do the survivors of a death always gather after the funeral, to talk, eat, laugh, play? Well, that's what Bill's family was doing in the back lawn of his house. I walked in on him, so still, peering out onto the lawn at Joey, who was frolicking with some of his little cousins. He had a hardon again. No doubt about it. He also had the saddest mask drawn over his features, every line of his face pinched, his lower lip quivering in his pain. He was plainly watching Joey's every move, and trying to hold back the tears. I figured he must be thinking of his dear wife, or of the loss, and that mighty emotion had triggered his erection. Strong feelings can do that, I knew. Men, boys, can show more than mere sexual attraction through the tumescence of their penises. Seeing Bill's condition that time, I felt ashamed of myself again, because I was growing hard watching Joey too, as I always did around him, but not out of overpowering sadness. But now. This third time. How could I explain what I was seeing? Bill Sanders, his left hand gripping the door frame, his right creeping slowly across his pants front, till his fingers reached the ridge of his jutting tool. His eyes directly upon Rolando, who was sitting on a bench next to a small fountain, looking like a Roman boy, contemplating the fates, one arm outstretched to prop his body up, his hand palm-down on the bench, the other idly, gracefully fingering his still long, ebon tresses. In profile, Rolando was just stunningly beautiful, with the rays of the sunlight forming an aura around his whole body, his every delicate feature outlined in perfect clarity. His face was relaxed, his expressions soft, unself-conscious, at peace. Bill's face, in contrast, was pinched again, in what could have been sadness, but could also be ... the kind of deep, burning, almost painful desire that I felt everytime I saw a boy ... knowing he was not to be mine ... the face of ... desire .... Things fell into place, suddenly. Bill's erection. His emotion, both now and in the past, on those other occasions. And now I remembered our childhood. Neither of us, not once, ever mentioned interest in a girl. Not once. Yet neither of us showed any interest in other men. I remembered the day he told me of his plan for the future, how he was determined to marry ... I remembered the tears in his eyes, as he told me. As if, in deciding upon a future with a wife, he were denying himself some other, greater desire. I remembered berating him, after the funeral of his wife, two weeks after, because he seemed almost afraid to interact with Joey ... and his response, that I could never know the struggle he was going through, that I would never understand why he could not be the father he wanted to be. It all fell into place. I understood now. Bill Sanders and I had always shared more than we ever even knew. "He's ... he's so beautiful, isn't he?" I finally broke the silence, and let him know that I was present, speaking so softly, reverently. How else could I speak, when speaking of Rolando? "Yes, he i ...," Bill started to answer immediately, then realized he was speaking out loud to me, and not to himself. He staggered back, shocked, appalled at himself. I read the fear and dismay in his features. He just looked at me, stunned, not saying anything, his eyes round with fear of what I would say. Then he stumbled over to his desk, and fell into his chair, and placed his head down, cupped in his hands. I felt myself trembling. With the exception of Wishus, Rolando, and perhaps Demetrio, if he understood it at all, I was about to reveal my boylove to another person for the first time. To my best friend. To another boylover. I was certain that was the answer to what Bill had been going through for years. The answer to all those things I had seen and never understood about him. I was filled with sadness that we had missed out on years and years, in which we could have supported and understood each other, but I was also thrilled that finally I could tell another man about my love for boys. From the looks of him, I knew Bill needed this release too. I stepped into the room, and took up position on the nearer side of the garden door, standing much as Bill had a few seconds earlier. We were going to talk about boys. About love for boys. I had one of the most beautiful, wonderful boys imaginable, right in front of me. I wanted to see him, as we talked. He would be ... like representing all boys .... "Bill. Bill, raise your head off the desk," I commanded him, again gently. "I see what you see. You tell me, if this isn't what you see, when you look out into your garden, just now." He's ... your reason for living. He's the air you breathe. The sacred ground you walk on, because his foot trods there as well. His hair, his brow, his lips, shoulders, hands ... his being ... are the definition of beauty in this world. His spirit, his laughter, his sigh ... they are the music that lifts your soul. He is ... a boy. A boy!" I paused, wondering at my own ability to encant poetry as prose. Then I looked again at Rolando, and knew why. Even if Bill Sanders wasn't a boylover, I was so happy that I had finally spoken the truth. The image of my beloved Wishus floated into my mind, and I closed my eyes, and sighed, and smiled. I heard Bill sobbing quietly, over at his desk. That was answer enough, that I had hit the mark. I looked over at him, and saw my own decades long agony portrayed there. "This explains everything, Bill. I know now what you've been going through. What happened after Margeret died. Why you distanced yourself from Joey. Why you were afraid to be a father, when you felt something much more. It also explains why he ran away." He raised his head at that, and stared at me wonderingly, through the remaining tears. "It also explains why you didn't call in the authorities. This other man, this Indian, gave Joey what he needed, didn't he. What you would not, because you were afraid to. Joey went away with him voluntarily, didn't he?" Bill drew in a long, halting breath, and uttered, "Yes. How did you kn ...." "Look, Bill," I continued, turning again to look out at Rolando, who was now leaning over to play with Demetrio, who had some toy on the ground at the foot of the bench. Their singsong voices wafted into the study. "We have a lot to talk about." I turned back to my long-time, but only now understood friend, and sighed again. "We have to talk about ... boys. Joey, Rolando and Demetrio, and ... boys." I walked slowly towards his desk, and sat down in the chair on my side of it. I couldn't see Rolando anymore, but I heard his voice, and that was enough. I had a boy outside, to remind me of Wishus, and all boys, and I had my friend across from me, who would understand now. Bill looked at me in almost stunned silence, his eyes as wide as they could be, puffy with his tears. I heard his long, stuttering breath again, as my words soaked in. He was a strong man. As strong-willed and intelligent as any I had ever known. Strong, but burdened with society's wrongly imposed shame. We both had some talking to do, to lift the burdens on both our shoulders. ------------------------- By the time Bill and I finished talking, I felt lighter-headed than any other time in my life. Except when in the presence of Wishus! There were no holds barred. We talked about our boys, and we talked about boylove. We talked about the repression and denial of our boylove too, and how this was now the beginning our new lives. Well, Wishus was the beginning of my new life, but I know I gave Bill plenty to think about. I told him about Wishus, and about Rolando. Everything. He told me about Joey. His forbidden love for his own son, and the apparent love Joey had found with his Indian. We ended when I accepted his mission: to go find Joey and to bring him back, so that they could repair their broken relationship. They would then decide how Joey's Indian friend would fit into their lives. I pressed Bill with a mission too: to make a home for Rolando and Demetrio. He agreed to think it all over while I got some sleep, before heading out. I slept like a log, after the week on the trail, and awoke feeling like every nerve in my body was fired, ready to get going again. I still had more miles to go, taking me away from Wishus. How that hurt! It was late evening, I could tell. I had requested that I be awakened before ten, so I presumed it was earlier than that. The waning quarter moon cast a soft light into my bedroom window. I didn't bother to light a lamp, but just hastily packed all my gear, and towed it out into the main room, where Mrs. Martinez had my purchases packed and ready. Now to find out what Bill had decided, and whether I needed to send off a telegram to my parents, back East, about my two new wards. Then back onto the trail, to Joey, and my Wishus. I started to call out, but it almost felt like sacrilege to break the peaceful spell cast by the moonlight, the quiet, and the cool, still air within the adobe walls. So instead, I decided to traipse through the house quietly, until I found Sanders. I figured my boys, hopefully HIS boys, were now soundly asleep. With a pang, I remembered that it was the first time since I rescued them, that we had not slept together. It wasn't the sex I regretted. I had truly come to love these two boys, in all ways. I felt they returned my love, too. It was but a few steps across the study, and I was about to push open the door, when I heard their muted voices. Sanders' low, deep-throated, calm voice, and the musical tones of boyish voices answering his, with soft laughter. I stopped, not wanting to interrupt this. My heart gladdened. Maybe I wouldn't have to send the boys off, after all? Through the webbed screen, I saw Bill sitting on the bench, next to the fountain. Demetrio he held on one knee, and was bouncing him lazily, rhythmically, holding the boy gently with both arms, his hands clasped over Metrio's tummy. I read the scene almost instantly. It was pretty easy, since I had been there, right where Bill Sanders was now, just a few days ago. Me talking with Demetrio, Rolando apart, observing ... and putting on a show. The setting was different. Before, Rolando stood ankle deep in the river, and lifted his dress up over his head, to reveal his lissome body. His hair had been so alluring, and served to cloak him in an aura of mystery. A boy, revealing himself purposefully, seductively, from within the trappings of a girl. A boy, calling to me, forcing me to gaze entranced upon him, casting his spell upon me. Here, in an almost classical courtyard garden, like the atrium of a Roman Villa, I saw another spell being cast. This time Bill was the silent witness to Rolando's dance. All the mystery was unveiled now. The boy's long, sultry hair was shorn. There was nothing to hide his perfect, boyish lines. Nothing to cloak the delicacy of his narrow, rounded shoulders, nothing to hide the dimpled line of his backbone, nor the graceful curve of the small of his back. I could see that although Bill was holding Demetrio, his whole attention was on Rolando, who stood next to the fountain. He stood in profile to Bill, his shirt off -- it was now a wash cloth. He gracefully, slowly dipped it's tail in the fountain, then brought it to dab at his moonlight-drenched flesh. First on either side of his neck -- I stood breathless as I saw him once again stand on his tiptoes as he brought the wet cloth to soothe himself -- he did it with such unstudied grace, that I suddenly knew he did it unconsciously. Rolando was so incredibly beautiful, so blessed in his perfection, that even unconsciously his every motion, his very stance, was a natural expression of his loveliness. Yes, I knew that Rolando was doing this purposefully, still plying the courtesan arts that his mother had taught him, yet I also now knew that he was so much more than a mere coquette. He was a boy in need, and a boy with so much love to give. If he could find that love in Bill Sanders, I could not have been happier for either of them. Unlike the night when he had first disrobed in front of me, Rolando now spoke. I saw Bill shudder at the sound of the boy's soft voice. I knew that feeling too, an almost orgasmic thrill of having a boy-god speak to you, when his consciousness was so totally attuned to the statuesque vision before him. "Meester Teglin has told you about us?" his voice carried softly through the gurgling of the fountain. "Yes ... he has. Everything." Bill answered in a hushed, hesitant tone, as if he were unsure of his right to speak in a god's presence. Demetrio suddenly sat totally still in Bill's lap, sensing that whenever Rolando spoke like this, it was important. "He has told you ... about me? You know what I have ... done with ...." Rolando's hands stopped in mid-air. I could feel the tension, could sense the enormity of the question. So he still had those doubts, those fears. He wasn't totally in control. He was a boy in need, indeed. My heart went out to him. My blood rushed. Shouldn't I step out there, and assure the boy that everything would be ok, that .... "Rolan." Bill's voice was stronger now, deep, still hushed, but taking command. I braced myself against the door frame, and willed myself to stand unmoving. "May I ... may I call you, Rolan? It's such a beautiful name." He paused, waiting for Rolando's response. The boy turned his head towards Bill just slightly, and I could see his trembling lips, his attempt to smile, and to hold back tears. It hardly mattered what Bill would say now. The tone of his question had said it all. The things Rolando had feared -- ridicule perhaps, condemnation, denial of his needs, denial of his desires ... rejection -- all were dispelled by Bill's simple affirmation. I could have rushed out anyway, to kiss Bill myself, I was so overjoyed! Rolando breathed out a halting, `Yeesss." Then seemed to weaken, then to lean forward against the rim of the fountain, to brace himself. He dropped the shirt into the pool. With his right hand he held himself upright, with the other, he pulled back the hair that had fallen forward to hide his face, and tucked it behind his ear. I saw the wetness on his cheeks. From tears. Bill saw them too. He secured his hold on Demetrio with his right arm, and held his left out to Rolando. "Come ... Rolan. Sit with me. Sit with us." Rolando sighed again. It seemed like he released all the days of tension and doubt, with that sigh. Perhaps even months, years of doubt and fear. His face relaxed, and there was no guile left in him, as he turned towards Bill and stepped to the bench. He sat down beside the big man, looking now as innocent and wide-eyed, and HOPEFUL, as any boy could. He scooted over, near to Bill, almost touching him, as my friend's large, powerful hand reached out, at first tentatively, to pull the boy to him. It was an important moment for Bill too. I could see that with that final, firm grasp of his hand and arm around Rolando's bare body, that he had finally accepted what we had discussed earlier in the evening - that he could finally accept and embrace his boylove, that he no longer had to fight it, that he could show his love for a boy. Rolando sat half turned, and leaned into Bill's strong body. He wanted to be hugged, he needed that simple expression of acceptance. Then he pushed himself back a bit and looked up into Bill's face, "Meester, all me and ...." "Now Rolando," Bill interrupted him. "If we're going to ... live together ... don't you think you should call me ... at least ... Bill?" He paused, then said a little more hesitantly, hoarsely, "or ... Dad?" Rolando's eyes went wide again. How well I knew this situation! Here was one boy who didn't easily give his trust! He sat there just looking into Bill's eyes for the longest moment, then nodded just slightly, and gave a slight smile in acquiescence, "Alright Bill ... Dad." Bill tightened his grip around Rolando's body, and hugged him again. The boy let himself meld into the man's bigger form. I couldn't see his face anymore, but heard him continue. "You know about me and Metrio, but you are willing to give us a home?" "Yes," Bill answered without hesitation. "You do this as a favor to your friend, to Teglin?" Ha! So he did know my name, after all! The stubborn little scamp. "I would do pretty much anything for Teg, Rolando, but this isn't one of them. I want you here. I ...." "You do this out of pity then, because Teglin, he tells you how we have nothing." "Well, that's not quite true, Rolan. With Teg, you have everything you'll ever need. That's not it at all. I ...." Bill stopped. I knew what was coming. At least I hoped I did. I had coached him on this. Had urged him, on this. I knew what Rolando wanted. What he needed. I also knew what Bill needed, if he were to heal himself. "Look, Rolan, this is ... something new ... for me ... being honest about my feelings, so ... but ... from the moment I saw you, today, I ... wanted you to ... be with me ... Teg has helped me understand my feelings, Rolan. I need a son - two sons! I need to show my love, I need ... you ... and I believe I can be the man you want too. The father you need ... and ... more ... please tell me you'll stay with me. Please tell me, Rolan." Bill suddenly shifted Demetrio off his knee and stood him on the ground, then turned on the bench to face Rolando, who was looking up at him wonderingly. Bill took both of the boy's hands in his, then lifted one to his lips. "I'll try to be all that you need and want, Rolan. You may not believe me, but it's true, that from the moment I saw you I have loved you, like I never imagined possible in my lifetime! I think I've loved you all my life, and everything I've ever done has prepared me for this moment ... I've made so many mistakes, but if you'll take a chance with me ...." Rolando had sat there, still wide-eyed, genuinely surprised at Bill's confession. I knew what his answer would be. Bill did to, when the boy interrupted his speech by leaning forward suddenly and kissing him on the lips! Just a light tap, but there was such joy on his face as he did it. Demetrio giggled, as usual a silent, trusting witness to the adventures of his brother. For myself, I knew my job was done. What started when I saw Big John brutally slapping little Demetrio, and when I found Rolando, culminated here. The boys now had a good home. I was pretty certain also that Rolando had the man he needed. I slipped away from the door, leaving them to the rest of their lives. Bill Sanders would lay with Rolando in the nights to come, and be for him all that I wanted to be for Wishus. I strode through the darkened rooms of the house, and finally found Mrs. Rodriguez in the kitchen. I gave her a message for Bill and the boys, and said I was heading out immediately. Then I returned to my room, gathered all my things, and went out to the stable. The saddle bags were in place, and I was just about to untie the reins to lead my horse outside, when Bill and the boys came walking into the stable, hand in hand. I should say 'the boys and Bill', because they were leading him like dogs on a leash, dragging him hurriedly to find me. Demetrio released his hand and came rushing up to hug my leg. I laughed, and bent down and lifted him up, then kissed him all over his face till he giggled. "You be good, squirt," I said with false jollity. Now I was the one hoping to contain the tears. "I don't know what to say, Teg," Bill said solemnly. We looked each other in the eyes, and held out our hands for a shake. he pulled me in for a bear hug, then pushed me back. "No man ever had a better friend. I knew you would find Joey for me ...." Now he started to choke up! "I ... never dreamed ... even you could bring such joy to me, though, Teg ...," he trailed off, again grasping both boys around their shoulders and hugging them to him. All the while, I could feel Rolando's presence stronger than any other. How could it be otherwise for any man, much less me, after what he and I had been through together over the last few days. For some reason, I suddenly lacked the courage to look directly at him ... till he spoke. A 12 year old boy, and his soft words commanded both of us men to silence. But then, both of us loved him. Both of us would worship the ground he walked on. "You go now, huh, meester?" It was instantly silent in the stable. I glanced at his perfect visage, then hung my head down shyly, feeling awed once again, just as I had so often while watching, listening, touching, and even making love with him, over the last few days. "Guess ... guess so, Rolando," I muttered, scuffling the ground with my boots. How I wanted to gather him in my arms and thank him for being part of my life! Thank him for existing! Why I couldn't do it, I don't know. Damnit, I had done things so intimate with this boy ... yet now I couldn't look him in the face. What was wrong with me? I had saved him. I had taken care of him. I had found a new home for him .. found a man for him, yet I couldn't look him square in the eye right now! None of us spoke then. I think all four of us were on the verge of tears. Bill finally cleared his throat, and grabbed the reins and started to lead my horse out. He grabbed me by the arm and led me out too. Demetrio grabbed my hand. I felt Rolando following along behind us. We got outside, and I decided it was time, so I got up into the saddle, and waved, putting on my brave, tough man mask. No tears for me! I was about to spur the horse on towards the old man, who had opened the gate for me, when I heard that magical voice, one last time. "Hey you!" Well, that did it. I gripped the saddle horn, hoping not to grow too feint, and slide out of the saddle. Through tears, I looked back to see him standing hand in hand with Bill Sanders. A man and his boy. And what a boy. His lovely cheeks were wet with tears too. I saw how tightly he gripped Sanders' hand. But he struggled to smile, a weak, heartfelt little smile, with trembling red lips. "Teglin!" he called out. "Teg!" "Yes, Sweet One," I managed to croak out, in answer. "Gracias, Teg! Te amo." "I love you, too, dearest. Good bye." And once again, I turned my horse, and spurred away from a beloved boy. ------------------------- Wishus awoke to total silence and near total darkness even in mid- afternoon, in his Shaman's Tower refuge. The large stone he used to seal the door was in place, his candles were all burned down to stubs. He hadn't even wanted to get up from bed this morning, so after peeing, had returned to the tower to lay lifeless, unmoving in his misery. Periods of fitfull sleep alternated with mind-numbed consciousness. He had lost count of the days now ... was it 18, 20? Almost three weeks. Maybe already three weeks. He felt so lonely. Even in his sleep. No dream, this time. Nothing to relieve his complete ... aloneness. If only during his sleep, he could see Teg, just as he dreamed about him all day long .... The tightness in his chest, the grip of loneliness around his heart, was more painful right now than the now constant grip of hunger, in his stomach. There wasn't much food left. He was now using only one can a day, from those he had saved from the fire. Couple of charred and swollen cans of tomatoes, and one of salt pork, which had some kind of mold growing around the top seal. Feeling like he was about to cry again, he let his hand creep down to his lifeless penis. Maybe if he could think other thoughts. Like Teg's kiss ... Teg holding him close ... the feel of Teg's hand smoothing his brow ... yeah, if he could jack-off, he'd feel better. He closed his eyes. Even in the darkness, closing his eyes sometimes helped him to concentrate on the image of Teg. The images came, but somehow he couldn't settle on one. They flitted through his consciousness, as if not strong enough to be real for him. He stroked his limp member, trying to coax it to hardness. He closed his eyes tighter, but ... all he could feel was the constriction in his throat ... oh God, how he missed Teg, and ... "Oh Teg, I'm so alone here. I feel like you'll be riding away from me forever, and you'll never come back!" He felt numb. Dead in his penis, dead in his mind. He was losing the magic ... if Teg didn't return soon ... he just didn't want to live .... Wishus let his hand fall free of his little cock. His foreskin lay soft and closed around the glans, his shaft refusing to swell to meet his need. He turned over on his side, facing the solid rock wall of his tower, and let the tears stream unchecked down his cheeks, to soak into his blankets. ------------------------- Big John kicked the saloon door open and staggered out into the dust-filled air of Miranda's main street. He didn't care that he had turned his back on all those yokels inside. There wasn't a spine to be found in this town, leastways not one brave enough to shoot Big John Smalley in the back. So, which way? Back to the ranch for supper, and another night of brooding ... without Rolando? Or finally, off to find the man who had taken him? How many times over the last week had he stood here, trying to decide. Every day he had packed his saddle bags, come to town, gotten drunk, then returned home. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind. Not this time. He wouldn't return to an empty house this time. He had to find that man. Or his place. One way or the other, that bastard had to pay. He looked off to the west, towards the Black Mountain trail. That's where he had to go. ------------------------- Creeeaaaakkkkk ... whack! My eyes were open even before the door slammed shut. I steeled myself not to raise my head quickly. People had been going in and out of the house all day long, slamming the screen door. This one must be in the back of the house, though, since the sound was a little fainter. I was cautiously raisng my head to peek through the tall grass at the edge of the woods surrounding the ranch house, when I heard the scream. A child's scream. Perhaps a boy's. Joey? I hadn't seen him yet, but the trail led here, and so did the directions that Bill Sanders had given me. Nice, well-kept farm place, two story house, with a veranda all around it. Well, I hadn't seen the back, but it went around three sides, anyway. In the `civilized Indian' portion of Oklahoma Territory. Certainly these people were very prosperous. If Joey were here, it looked like he wouldn't suffer materially. Creeeaaaaaak ... bang! The back door again. I was already moving back, into the woods, so I could make my way around to the back of the house, when I heard a man's voice, yelling angrily. And the boy's screams again. The bottom dropped out of my stomach, and I felt fear strike deep in me. Bill was thinking that Joey went with his ... man, voluntarily. If he did, were his screams a sign that things had gone awfully wrong? I had to know. As I scrambled back on all fours, I peered towards the screams again, and saw a slight figure flit across my field of view, between the house and a shed, going towards the woods. He was squealing and screaming continuously, then fell silent as he must have entered the woods. The man was yelling something like, "I'll get you. You're going to pay for this." He too fell silent soon, but as I made it to the woods myself, I heard both the boy and man yelling farther away. They were not doubt on a trail and moving fast. Now out of sight from the clearing, I took off as fast as I could through the thick underbrush, hoping to hit their trail, trying to hold down the racket as dead branches cracked underneath my feet, my clothes hung up and ripped free of the clinging thorns of catclaw vines, and branches whipped free of my grasp as I rushed forward headlong. The canopy was thick enough to mottle the ground in thick shadows, even with clear skies and the sun still high up in the afternoon, but I could see clearly enough above the low undergrowth. Peering towards all the yelling, I glimpsed the figure of the man as he chased after the boy. They had to be on a trail, because he was running full stride, and getting farther away from me quickly. Instead of following him directly, I veered more to my right. My only chance to catch up to them before he had time to hurt the boy was to get to that trail. I stumbled onto it shortly, but not before I figured they had gained 50 yards on me, running at full speed. So, with a quick look back up the trail towards the house, to see if I needed to watch my back, I took off after them. Seemed like a well travelled trail, though not wide. Certainly not a road, and not used by horseback. The forest was mostly post oak, with scattered dogwood. I could see quite far in it, now that I didn't have to free my feet from catclaw or fight through hanging branches. The lay of the land was flat, but I could see that up ahead, it dropped off abruptly. Both the boy and the man had already disappeared over the lip of the dropoff, but I could hear the boy's piercing voice yelling in the distance. As long as I could hear him, I at least knew he was not yet caught, but by the time I got to the edge of the dropoff, it had been ten, fifteen seconds since I had heard anything. My fear increased with each passing moment. I stopped at the top of the bluff. It fell off abruptly, forcing the trail into a switchback, down to the river bottom - or what might have been the river bottom hundreds of years ago, since the actual meanering river was some distance off beyond the treetops that now blocked my view of the rest of the trail below me. The bottomlands looked less dense than the forest I had just run through, and off in the distance, closer to the river, I saw stands of huge, towering cottonwoods. The next fiften or twenty seconds were as harried and fraught with danger as any I've had in my life. Danger for others, not myself, that is. I took off headlong down the cliff, cutting across the switchback. That was one way to gain some ground on the boy and his pursuer. Now the trail led off straight as an arrow for the river, maybe a 100 yards distant. There, in a cottonwood stand, in a small, parklike clearing shaded by the riverside giants, I espied the man. He was crouched over the boy, I guessed, pinning him down. His arms were moving, quickly, perhaps beating the boy, tying him? I couldn't tell yet, but one way or the other I was going to put a stop to it. I ran full out to within ten yards or so. The man's back was to me, and I couldn't see more than than the boy's feet and a bit of his legs lying flat on the ground. Not wanting to let the man know I was there, I slowed enough to run just on the balls of my feet, to make less noise. That's when I heard the boy giggle. A giggle! And his feet twitched, like he were squirming a bit, but he didn't seem to be struggling. I stumbled to a stop, no more than ten feet behind the two, and quietly edged over to the left, behind a fallen log and some undergrowth. From this vantage I now see that the child is indeed a boy. Indeed, Joey! Nine years old now? Yes ... a little slighter than my Wishus, shorter by a couple of inches. Thin and delicate, his mop of dark brown hair splayed out on the ground. Cute little button nose with his broad forehead. Deep blue eyes, and the sweetest, very straight set to his lips. My little boy Joey. Would anyone call Joey beautiful? Or gorgeous? Surely that would be the immediate reaction upon seeing Wishus. Joey, on the other hand, was just ... all cute boy. Petite. Cuddly. Active. Cute! Of course I had fallen in love with him several times through the years. Every time I had visited with his family. Especially the last visit, for the funeral of his mom. For once he was so quiet, withdrawn, grief-stricken both by his mom's death and his father's apparent lack of interest. For once not bouncing from one activity to the next, always at a full run. He had been so sad and vulnerable. His Dad was aloof, so his `Uncle Teg' was there for him. The boy I saw now, lying prone on his back, on the ground, his little form pinned down by the hulking form of his pursuer, was the same boy I had held, crying in my lap, just a year ago, toussling his chili bowl hair, carressing him. The same little boy who had fired my passions on so many lonely nights back at my ranch. Fantasies of loving Joey had kept me going, memories of his touch. He was the boy whose body I had dreamed of exploring, and now here he was giggling and smiling coyly up at his erstwhile tormentor. I felt my penis hardening even as I sprawled on it, peering over the log at my little `nephew.' At first I could only hear his giggles, the high-pitched trill of his voice, and the low, deep-throated responses of the man. Had to be Antonio. The man who had come out to Elizabethtown to work with Bill. The man who had taken Joey away. Bill had described him just like this. Rather tall, a big man, for an Indian. Long black hair, now gathered into a ponytail. Swarthy, but not the deep redish complexion of a full-blooded Indian. Handsome, forceful, powerful-looking. He was dressed in a broadcloth evening suit! No coat, but his vest hung open, to reveal a black cumberbun, and a stiff, white formal shirt, with a starched color. Well, there had been a congregation of some sorts at the farm house. I had seen several other formally dressed men enter the house. Mostly older gentlemen. None of them Indians, as far as I could tell. Joey too was dressed up. He had on a little evening jacket, a little bow tie, and apparently was wearing formal, black knickers. His little Sunday shoes were polished, and he had little white socks pulled up to his knees. Antonio straddled him over his mid-section, and had his arms pinned down at the wrists. He was leaning over Joey, leering at him. So I found myself in the middle of Oklahoma Territory, hiding behind a log, watching my little Joey and this rather sophisticated and certainly `civilized' Indian, playing cat and mouse. Joey was certainly enthralled with the guy. I could see that easily, bu the way he looked up so admiringly at the man. He smiled sweetly, returning the man's affectionate gaze. I felt a pang of jealousy. If he had sat down with all his weight, the man would certainly have crushed the little boy, but I could see he was straddling Joey lightly, bouncing up and down with his strong thighs. He was indeed busy, as I had seen from behind, when I ran up the trail. Now he was teasing Joey, unbuttoning the boy's shirt, pausing often to joke and laugh. My breath now more calm, the ringing in my ears silenced, I began to make out their prattle. "... and you thought it would be easy to get away, Little Deer!" The man chided Joey, mockingly. "Maybe I didn't want to get away. So there!" Joey stuck his tongue out at Antonio. "Yeah, then why did you take off running out of the house?" "Maybe I didn't want to get away ... from you." He said this in a more hushed voice, but I could hear him clearly enough, and sense the entreaty in it. "Oh, and why would that be, Little Deer?" The man said. He had finished unbuttoning Joey's shirt, and now started removing both jacket and shirt, gently, carefully. Lovingly. I heard the tell-tale, gravelly hoarseness of building passion in his voice too. "Well ... it wasn't any fun in there will all those judges and senators, and stuff.," Joey pouted. "No, it wasn't. Why my father insists that the whole household sit in on those meetings, I can't fathom." "That old Judge White kept tickling me," Joey said, grimacing. "Father noticed. He said you two were getting along really well." "Yeah, well, he was nice. I liked hi ...." "Oh! Little Deer likes being tickled by old men?!" And with that, Antonio started in on Joey's armpits, causing the boy to shriek with delight and laughter. He flailed about under the man's feverish, probing fingers. He kept begging Antonio to stop. "Oh? That's not what you got me out here for?" Antonio teased, when he paused, keeping his fingers poised just above Joey's bare little chest. "You know what I got you out here for." Joey said, then pursed his lips firmly, and stared up at the man sternly. "And what would that be?" Joey humped his hips up several times, into the man's straddling crotch. "You know," he said quietly. "Hmmmh, I think I understand. Well, as much as I'd like to oblige, I don't think Little Deer can have that three times in one day! And whenever he wants it!" "Why not, Tonio, we don't do it everyday, so ... every once in a while, let's have a day like this ...." Joey whined, pouting again, acting like he was about to cry. I could see as well as Antonio, the boy's insistent desire. His eyes were wide, and he stared up into ... I guess I had to say it ... up into `his man's' eyes. "Well, for one thing, we fucked this morning. And again out in the shed before lunch! And now you want it again, two hours later? I want it as much as you do, Joey, but this one would take me a lot longer, and Father's going to want us back, and ...." Joey struggled to release his hands from being pinned down, and Antonio let him loose, and leaned back. The boy reached up to Antonio's waistband and started to unbutton the man's pants. "Joey ...." Antonio warned, but quite obviously without much conviction. "I want him in me, now, Tonio. You promised me you would take me away and make love to me anytime, anyplace, and always be my man," Joey admonished in soft tones, continuing to undo Antonio's fly. "Well, I can't help it if I want you with me all the time. You're the only one I can count on, Tonio ... and it ... feels so good ...." He now had Antonio's pants open, and reached in to grasp and pull out the man's mighty weapon. Mighty it was, too! I was impressed. I almost gasped. I had worried about penetrating Wishus, with my own seven inches. Antonio's penis dwarfed Joey's clutching hands! It was easily an inch longer than my dick, and definitely bigger around. Swarthy, like the man's complexion, but perhaps a shade darker -- probably due to being engorged with his impassioned blood. The foresekin almost completely covered the head, but Joey immediately retracted it, quickly, and Antoinio's huge, purplish-red glans glistened in the dappled sunlight coming through the cottonwood canopy. His huge reddish brown tool, rampant, sticking straight out from his body, looked so ... savage ... in Joey's small, delicate white hands. He may have already fucked Joey twice that day, but Antonio was obviously in his prime -- I saw a drop of pre-cum dangle from the tip of his glans. Joey quickly caught it, and lovingly smeared it all around the glans. Antonio reared back his head, at the direct touch of even Joey's little fingers on his engorged glans, and drew in a loud breath through clenched teeth. "Oh Joey!" he moaned, then leaned forward, his eyes now flaring wide open with passion, and lowered his lips to his boy's. Joey let go of Antonio's penis, and wrapped both hands around the man's head, holding him, obviously not wanting the kiss to end. I almost gasped out loud. This is what Wishus and I looked like, when we kissed!! A little boy, every feature so soft and smooth and tender, laying beneath the grown man's massive, powerful bulk, dwarfed by him, yet in that kiss, completed by him. As their lips pressed so tightly, and I saw their heads move gracefully in the dance of the kiss, I knew immediately what the result of this trip would be. At least, for Joey. As I saw Joey open his mouth even wider, and as I saw their tongues duel, as Joey let his man's larger tongue into his diminutive mouth, I knew they had what I had with Wishus. Antonio lifted himself, trying to break the kiss. Joey wouldn't let go for a moment, and the man lifted the boy's head and shoulders from the ground, as he rose. Gently, he reached up to pry Joey's hands loose from behind his head. The boy let go reluctantly, and as Antonio laid him back down tenderly, he said, "We must hurry, Little Deer. If you really must have me now!" "Yes! Please, Tonio. Now." Joey pleaded, laying prone still, looking so helpless and vulnerable. Such a little boy, and he was begging the man to make love to him! I watched, thinking whether I should interrupt them now? I had to talk with Joey. I had to confirm the decision I had already made. I couldn't just walk away from this. On the other hand, how could I interrupt a boy and his man, making love?! This was what I lived for. This was what I dreamed about with Wishus. Should I pull back? Leave them alone to their sacred union? Dare I watch, as I so much wanted to, just to witness the man's huge instrument pierce into Joey's tiny body!? It was so easy to just lay there, so hard to even contemplate leaving. So I stayed. Antonio wasted no time asquiescing to Joey's plea. He scooted back off the boy's mid-section quickly, and started unbuckling his knickers, then jiggered them down off his hips. Before I had time to blink, my little Joey's boy cock sprang free, so small, so sweet looking, and so hard! Centered in the creamy white flesh of his pubis. I could clearly see the outline of his coronal ridge, underneath his foreskin. The covering was stretched taut, and barely enclosed his glans. He looked so virgin, yet plainly, from their talk, he and Antonio had been fucking for quite some time now, and he was capable of taking his man inside him often. Three times a day!? I wondered immediately if he had unhooded his glans yet. Antonio was like a madman now, jerking at Joey's pants, sliding them all the way off, over the boy's shoes. Joey lay there naked, on the bare ground, but for his shoes and socks. His body was even more lovely than I had ever dreamed. The soft, boyish contours that I had dreamed of caressing, were now bared for another man's loving touch. My jealousy was gone, however. I just stared and marvelled a the beauty of a boy! Such a small, precious, little boy, perhaps only 6o pounds, maybe 4'5". He would barely come up to Antonio's stomach, if they were standing. Yet the two were in love, and would consummate their love before my very eyes. Joyous love for Joey spilled out from my heart -- I just felt like surrounding him with it. I felt like going up to Antonio, and wrapping him in my arms too, to thank him for saving Joey from his desperate loss, and neglect. Joey's lover groaned, gutterally, animal-like, and lunged forward, separating Joey's legs. Quickly he walked forward on his knees, and then hasitly bent to roll Joey bodily from side to side, spreading the boy's jacket so that his tender flesh would not be wounded by the rough ground as they fucked. All the while his huge penis jutted out from the open slash of his own pants. He looked almost comical in his formal attire, with his dick protruding rudely, but oh so magnificently! Quickly, he dropped down on one forearm, his face above Joey's crotch, and without ceremony he devoured the little boy's dick. He sucked it in his mouth loudly and with his left hand free, started caressing and fondling the boy everywhere, ranging from his hardening, tiny little nipples, down his sides, to find his little balls and knead them. Then madly, feverishly back up his body to his neck, his chest, his tummy! Joey began to thrust up into Antonio's mouth, and a low, continuous, almost vibrating sound emanated from the boy's throat. Like a purr! Joey had his head back, whipping from side to side, his Adam's apple protruding up in the arch of his narrow neck, his shoulders alternately, with no pattern, rising and smacking back onto his jacket. His legs were taut and straight, seemingly hardened into steel-like appendages. His feet stiffened in his shoes, pointing them, as if his toes curled painfully inward towards his soles. Antonio was in a hurry, but he certainly knew how to make my little Joey's body sing! He pumped up and down on Joy's two-inch little prick like the madman he was. Temporarily insane with lust for his boy, with desire for his boy to feel this pleasure. Joey was like an animal in heat. He must have been thinking about this moment, planning for it, hoping for it, because it was just moments before I knew he was about to cum. He jerked his arms out straight, just as tense as were his legs, and began to clutch at the ground, trying to find a purchase for his fingers. Failing that, he reached down to grab two handfulls of Antonio's hair, and held on for life. "Joey! Brother!" It was a woman's voice, calling from up the trail. It sounded like she was still up at the top of the bluff. I heard it and it wracked me with shock. Joey and Antonio heard it too. The man's head shot off Joey's cocklet like one of those rockets that Wellington used at Waterloo, and he looked about wildly, to see who it was. Joey lay back as if dazed, his little penis now abandoned, but glistening wet and slightly reddish from the sucking. He either had just been robbed on the brink of his orgasm, or had just started it. I watched as his whole body froze, and wondered for a second if he were still breathing. His eyes were wide open, but staring off into the sky. Then he gasped, gulping in the air, and shook his head with a look of dismay, as Antonio called out to him in panic,. "Get up Joey, Molly's coming!" He reached down and grasped Joeys hand and jerked him up to his feet. Joey whined his disappointment, and quickly grasped his little dick and started pumping it. "Joey!" Antonio hissed, then laughted. "No time for that! Molly will see you. Us!" He started jerking up Joey's clothing from the ground and throwing it at the boy. Wordlessly, but both giggling now, they got him dressed. Antonio was brushing dirt from Joey's jacket, when the boy laughed again and pointed down at the man's crotch. Antonio's once rampant tool was now hanging limply from the opening in his pants, with precum dripping from its still half-swollen glans. It hung there, dark and flaccid, still thick and powerful looking, yet rather pitiful, compared to its mighty stand of just a moment ago. They both laughed, as Joey reached out and started stuffing it unceremoniously back inside Antonio's pants, then fumbled, as if panic-stricken, with the buttons. Antonio stood there laughing through the whole operation, lovingly caressing his boy's head. I suddenly thought about my own position. Would someone coming down the trail be able to see me? I pulled myself into a position along the log, fairly well masked by low growth. When I looked up again, the two were brushing dirt and twigs from each other. Their giggling was interrupted when the woman called out again, "So there you are, I figured as much." She carried herself more like a queen walking down a carpeted runway, rather than the dirt and leaf-strewn pathway. She was dressed in matronly fashion - perhaps the woman of this obviously very well-to-do house, yet she was more clearly of native blood than her brother. Her complexion was darker, and she had more distinctive features. "We were just ...." "I know. You two can't keep your hands off each other," she shook her head reproachfully, placing her hands on her hips and observing the two standing now somewhat embarrassed before her. I sensed no outrage or condemnation in her bearing. It was more like she were saying, "you two rascals." "However, if Father thinks it's a match made in heaven, then who am I to complain. Come on, you two. Father is definitely NOT happy that you have been gone so long, Tonio." She held out her hands to them, and they all started back up the path. Joey smiled at her, and let her shake him gently by the neck, as he and Antonio walked with her hand in hand. I just lay back, and tried to gather my senses. I had found Joey. Now what to do about it? ------------------------- Taking my time in following the three back to the ranch house, I had plenty to think on. In spite of witnessing the very obvious love between Joey and Antonio, and knowing that I had to make a decision about what would happen now, seeing him again after so long brought back so many memories. With the memories came some doubts. At the time of the funeral, I was able to help take the little boy's mind off the tragedy of his mother's passing, and to some extent I even kept him from brooding about his own father's seeming lack of care. We rode horseback, went swimming in the river, played yard games. Just spent time together. He was briefly happy. As any boy should be. If I left him here with the man he loved, would he lose the opportunity to just be that little boy again? How ironic. I could ask the same question about Wishus. Yet not for a single instant did I consider NOT going back to my beloved Wishus. Joey was different, though. He had a father who was a good man. Bill was also a different man now, than the one Joey had run away from. I felt he would be loving and attentive again, no longer burdened with his doubts. Did Joey need his Indian friend, when he would have his own father back? The very questions sickened me, even as I asked them. I was bidden by my dear friend to bring his son back, or to make sure he was safe and secure. That was a sacred task. YET I WAS BIDDEN BY THE LOVE I HAD WITNESSED, to leave these two alone. Joey and Antonio apparently had exactly the kind of love that Wishus and I had. It was a positive good in Joey's life, as with Wishus. Denying the love of a man and a boy would be simply evil. I could not do that. What could I do? What would I do? Night was falling by the time I took up position again at the edge of the forest. There was a cool breeze in the air, which lulled me into a troubled sleep. Images flitted through my dreams, of Wishus. I was back in his valley, but could not get to him. Someone was keeping us apart. We should be together, but someone was denying us our right. I could see him, but every time I tried to speak to him, someone took him farther away .... I awoke to the nearly pitch-black darkness of a moonless night. I awoke to certainty. I had to speak to Joey now, tonight. And I had to get started back to Wishus now, tonight. The house guests had apparently departed. Their buggies and mounts were nowhere in sight. The whole compound was silent. I judged it to be perhaps 9:00 o'clock. Didn't feel like I had slept too much longer than that. No dogs, thankfully. So I simply rose to stand against the nearest tree trunk, then scouted out the best approach. Over near the back of the house, where the trail to the river began, I could cut the distance to the house in half, by hugging the walls of the shed. Then it would have to be an open shot to the house. So be it. Five minutes later, I stood on the veranda, that indeed surrounded all four sides of the house. Inching along, avoiding any tell-tale patterns in the squeaks and creaks of the flooring, I started checking rooms. Halfway around, I found him. I knew instantly, when I heard him muttering! Either he was talking to himself, or he was talking in his sleep. "Dad ... going with Tonio ...." I slipped inside the open window, into the pitch-dark room. Across, against the far wall, I could make out his bed. Now, if I could just wake him without startling him .... A light appeared suddenly at the crack beneath the door, near the foot of the bed. The doornob started to turn with a low, low screach. Quickly I stepped back to hug the wall. It was Antonio, wearing a nightgown and stockings. He came in quickly, and was careful to latch the door quietly, then put the lamp on a table at the foot of the bed. Without pausing he lifted his nightgown up and up, revealing his naked body underneath, his huge dick already rising, hardening. His body was hairless, as I had heard most Indians are, but for the patch of dark hair around his cock. He looked magnificent, his light, coppery-colored skin reflecting like oil in the yellow lamplight. With his hair now hanging loose, I thought suddenly, that this was what Rolando might look like years from now. It was a sad thought, piercing. Reminding me of the inevitable passage of time. Boys must grow into men. In the years still to come, I wanted to be there for Wishus. There was no time to waste. Feeling every nerve in my body, every muscle, straining to get back to my boy, my senses were on fire. I wanted to rush out of the shadows right now, get Antonio out of the room, and finally talk with Joey ... yet, I knew I was about to witness something sacred. I had to see it! Antonio lifted Joey's covers. The boy was naked too! Waiting. Ready. The lines of his small body glowed in the lamplight. I could see his golden- hued white flesh, from his shoulders down to his narrow hips. The covers crossed his body diagonally, just below his breast down to his pubis. His little cocklet was still hidden, but the soft mound of his pubis made me almost groan out loud with desire. Antonio sat gently on the mattress, and leaned over to kiss his darling awake. Joey's eyes fluttered, with the first touch of Antonio's lips, then suddenly Joey was wide-awake. Gracefully, but quickly, he slid his hands up Antonio's bare sides, up across his shoulders, to lock behind his head, and pulled him in for a deeper kiss. Still holding the kiss, Antonio slowly repositioned himself, pushing Joey's covers all the way off, and vaulting hmlself over the boy's reclining form, so that they could lie together, touching flesh to flesh, from head to Joey's little curled up toes. "You ... finally came ...," Joey whispered, through kisses. "Father kept us ... too long, dearest. Im sorry. But you got ... some sleep ... at least." "Ummm ... knowing you, I'll need that rest ...," Joey said as he reached down blindly to grasp Antonio's now stiff cock. It lay dark and powerful against the light flesh of the boy's thigh. Joey caressed and squeezed it, then started to rub it side to side across his smooth skin. "Arrrhhhh ... I want you ... now, Joey!" Antonio started to gather his knees up, and reached down to part Joey's legs, so that he could reposition himself between them. Suddenly Joey broke their kiss, and like a snake quickly pulled himself free. He stood quickly and crossed the room to a set of shelves. "Why did you ... ohhhh ...," Antonio started to ask, surprised, but then his question trailed off. Joey's little bottom jiggled as he stood on his tiptoes and retrieved a box. Quite a large, wooden box. He turned and carried it wordlessly back across to the bed, and deposited it on the floor, then reached in and withdrew a length of rope. Looked like soft, white, curtain chord, about a half-inch in diameter. Silently, now looking almost solemn, Joey held the chord out to Antonio, who was reclining still, half-propped up on an elbow. "You ... want it that way, Little One?" he asked, huskily. Joey didn't answer. He just gestured with the rope again, holding it out for Antonio. How beautiful he was. Totally naked, the front and near side of his body lit all golden by the lamp, and his back dark and soft. His little dick jutted out stiffly, showing that whatever he had in mind, aroused him in anticipation. "Why do you want it that way?" "You showed me, Tonio," the boy responded quietly. I could hear an urgency in his tone, however. His voice rose slightly, pleading. "But just once, for fun, dearest. I was telling a story. I didn't expect you ...." "I like it, Tonio. Please?" The urgency in Joey's voice obviously surprised Antonio. "I ... sense something ... different, this time," he said. Joey looked down, and said more quietly, but still with that trace of urgency, or need, in his voice. "It ... It makes me feel special, ok? Like you'll never let me go, Tonio." "Ahhh." Antonio answered, just as solemly now. He sat up on the edge of the bed, then cupped one hand under Joey's chin and lifted his face, so that he could look the boy in his eyes. "You know ... we don't have to do this. I'll always be here for you, dearest. I'll never let you out of my life." Joey didn't answer. He just pushed the rope out again. Antonio smiled softly, and brushed Joey's cheek with his fingers. "If this is what you want, dearest, of course I'll do it." He stood up, his rock-hard cock bobbing up and down just below Joey's chin. "Now you lay down, honey, and I'll start." Joey did as his man bade him, and lay there on the bed, unmoving, his arms by his sides, his legs straight, in complete and conscious readiness. Tonio climbed across him once again, and knelt beside him on the bed, the rope in hand. Slowly, in time with a sort of sing-song litany that he began to utter, he lifted Joey's left leg and bent it at the knee, then lifted farther, so that Joey's thigh was almost parallel to his torso and his arm. "Little Deer was an unhappy little boy. He did not like living with his own people, because they were cruel to him. No one cared for him. So Little Deer decided to find his way to another village. On the way through the forest, a powerful young brave from another tribe saw him. The brave was enchanted., bewitched. He felt he had never seen anyone or anything in his entire life, so lovely as Little Deer. Exercising his right, and his duty, the brave captured the boy. As was his duty, too, Little Deer fought and fought, so the powerful brave tied him with ropes, and carried the boy to the brave's tribe." As he told the story, Antonio started to carefully lash Joey's calf, thigh, and upper arm together, so that they would lay parallel, tightly bound and immobilized. Joey lay unmoving, accepting the bindings willingly, just staring intensely up at Antonio's solemn visage. "Everyone at the brave's village accepted the boy, as a new member of the tribe. It was the way. The boy was now to be a part of the brave's household." Antonio tied off the lashing with a gentle tug. I could see that the ropes were tightly bound around Joey's little limbs, leaving little bulges around the lashings. He then shifted across Joey's body, and proceeded to repeat the process. I didn't know how to feel about all this. My little Joey was laying there, looking like a helpless fawn, indeed, while a man was tying him into complete, utter, submission. "Little Deer cried and cried, for day after day, living with the new tribe," Antonio droned on as he started to lift up Joey's left leg, and fold it against the boy's body. "His captor kept the boy tied most of the time, to prevent his escape. The brave was desperate to keep Little Deer from escaping, because he had fallen in love with the boy." Antonio paused, before starting to tie Joey's left leg and arm. Lightly he stroked Joey's brow and cheek. He looked so lovingly into the boy's eyes, and I could sense what was passing between them. Joey looked both forlorn and yet fulfilled, at one and the same time. His face was pinched with sadness, as if he were living the role of Little Deer, but there was something else in his expression. The wide open eyes, filled with need; just the trace of a weak smile, as he submitted willingly, wantonly, to Antonio's bindings. Antonio continued with the lashings, and resumed his story. "Every waking moment he talked to Little Deer, and served Little Deer, hoping that through kindness and love, he could sway the boy, and get him to stay willingly." With both legs pulled up and now securely tied, Joey's bottom was raised high, his cheeks parted, and his little anus was stretched wide open to view. I stood transfixed at the sight, feeling almost as if I were bound too, Joey's beauty, his desire, his submission to his lover, all combined to fascinate and thrill me. I could not have interrupted the two lovers now even if I had wanted to. I could see that his sphincter was reddish, and slightly swollen around the edges. More like Rolando's well-used bottom, than Demetrio's virgin hole. Perfect proof of what Joey and Antonio meant to each other, even if their every glance and touch didn't tell me the same, already. I began to smell Joey's private scent. Perhaps my imagination leant strength to the sensation. It was heady, intoxicating. This boy was offering everything he had to his man. There was nothing the two did not share. No secret, no private touch or sight ... or scent ... reserved for someone else. "Finally after many weeks, the boy agreed that he would never run away, because of the love and care that the powerful brave had given him so freely. The ropes and bindings were no longer needed, he said, because the brave had bound their spirits together so tightly." Antonio finished the second set of bindings, then again brushed Joey's brow, and ran his hands soothingly up and down the boy's legs. Joey's limbs were growing pinkish, reddish, with the constricted flow of his blood. "The brave and Little Deer became lovers, and remained so till the end of time. Once every year, the powerful brave would tie Little Deer with the ropes, and bind him, and make love to him, to symbolize the true ties that kept them always together." At this, Antonio leaned down to kiss Joey's receptive lips. When he lifted his head, Joey said, "My hands, Antonio." "Oh, Little Deer, but doesn't that hurt, when I get on top?" "A little. But I want it, Tonio." "You are mine, forever, you know," the man said, as he fished for another length of rope from the box, then knelt down below Joey's upturned bottom, and started lashing the boy's wrists together. "Tied or not, you will always be with me." I saw a tear trickle down Joey's nearer cheek. He was crying. Was it in pain? Again, I started to move, wanting to cry out myself in anguish. Yet what would I cry for? The loss of his mom? The way his father had neglected him? The deep longing and need for love, that Antonio had finally given him? I froze in place again, remaining in the shadows, trying hard to stifle my own tears, not wanting to make the slightest noise. I saw Joey gulp meekly, then he said the one word, "more." Antonio looked up, non-plussed. "That's not necessary, Joey dear," he said quickly. "Do it, Tonio. For me ...." The man sighed, resigned to carry out his little boy's wishes, and again slipped off the bed to rummage in the box. He pulled out a wide strap of black leather, on either end of which were metal loops. To the loops were tied two old, dark, and cracked leather tie-straps. "I wish I had never saved this old slave collar," Antonio muttered. "Nor shown it to you." "It's what I want, Tonio. Do it for me, ok?" "For you, Little Deer. If this makes you feel more like mine, then so be it. I just want you to know that you don't need any of these ropes, or this collar, to make you mine." "I do know that, Tonio. I just want it, ok?" Joey pleaded. "Ok." Tonio cupped the back of Joey's head in one palm and lifted it, while sliding the strap of leather underneath. He lowered Joey's head, then pulled the tie-straps through from underneath. One of the loops was larger than the other, so as he closed the strap around Joey's neck, Antonio slipped the smaller loop through the larger and pulled the tie-strap through all the way. He then secured each tie-strip to either side of the bed frame. Joey was trussed completely. He could move his head from side to side, and perhaps with great effort roll his body a bit. He didn't move, however, but just followed Antonio's every motion with his fawn-like eyes, laying there completely submissive to his man. It was powerful symbolism indeed, just seeing it. I felt it too. I sensed what Joey must feel -- a little boy who so desperately wanted to be loved, and who needed to give, and receive, this proof that his man would always love, cherish, and possess him. Antonio's long, hard cock offered more visual proof of the love these two shared. I felt that too. My own dick was erect, trapped within my pants. Even as I saw that Antonio's half-bared glans was wet with his pre-cum, I felt my own oozing to stain my pants leg. He silently stroked his cock, and collected the pre-cum in his hand, then pushed his foreskin back up over his glans and gingerly spread the natural lubricant all around his now covered dickhead. He positioned himself over Joey's upturned bottom. "Take me ... Tonio," I heard Joey's voice break. "I will, Little Deer. Now." Antonio uttered solemnly. He leaned forward and dropped a pool of his own spittle on Joey's raw anus, then slowly, so lovingly, swirled it around the swollen anal ring with his two middle fingers, wetting, lubricating every surface. Joey gasped as Antonio's middle finger dipped into his rectum, and he twisted his whole hand upon it, letting the pad of his finger lubricate Joey's inner flesh, mixing his spittle with Joey's own bodily fluids. Joey seemed to be on the verge of tears. Not of pain, or fear, but of desire soon to be fulfilled. He strained to lift his head and look up at Antonio, but the slave collar held him securely. He closed his eyes, then, and lay his head back. "Take me ... take me ... take me ... take ....," his voice trailed off into a whisper, then stopped completely as he felt his man position his dickhead against his little anus. My eyes flitted from Joey's face, to the incredible sight of that huge 8 inch tool, descending into the little boys' body. Antonio's massive, muscled, coppery-colored body dwarfed his little lover's balled-up form. Joey tensed, but didn't open his eyes, as Antonio used his index finger to push down on the shaft of his dick, and force his hooded glans into Joey's opening. Slowly, slowly ... I could just see Antonio's glans baring itself, entering the boy, as his foreskin was constricted by the anal ring. And then it was within! Antonio paused, his taut body propped on his hands, on either side of his boy, his long piston pointing straight down into Joey's tiny orifice. Joey sucked in short gasps of air. His anal ring was stretched bloodlessly white around the girth of Antonio's dick, just below the coronal ridge of his dick. The entire glans was within Joey's body. Again the boy tried to move his head up, but this time almost hypnotically, eyes still closed, as if his head naturally sought to flow forward in reaction to the plunge of the dick into his body. Again the tight collar forced his head back, and immobile. Unable to move, he groaned aloud, the sound coming delayed. It all seemed in slow motion, in a dream sequence. The scent of their union wafted to me even stronger. The pungent, yet sweet odor of a boy being fucked!. Antonio was in his own dreamworld. His eyes were at one moment shut, as he concentrated on the sensation of his dickhead clamped tight within his boy's bottom. Then he would open them, and rear back his head, breathe in deeply, and look lovingly at the boy beneath him. They had obviously fucked many times, and knew each other's needs well. Joey seemed to be constricting and releasing his anus consciously, drawing soft mews from Antonio in response. The man held himself rigid, poised stiffly, not wanting to plunge deeper until his lover were ready for it. Suddenly Joey seemed to relax. Even tied and bound into rigid submission, his muscles had strained to meed the intrusion of his man's cock. Now he seemd to simply release himself even more totally, into Antonio's control. He lay his head back, kept his eyes closed, and breathed smoothly now, and deeply. His hands, held so tightly in clenched fists, loosened, and he spread them on the bed. With his wrists bound, his forearms were buried under his back, but he seemed to ignore any pain that might have caused. It must have been the signal Antonio was waiting for. Without further hesitation, he let himself fall into his boy, his cock sliding smoothly into Joey's cavity, till fully four inches were embedded within. Joey just smiled and groaned again, this time long and sweet. It was like he had finally, after waiting endlessly, felt what he desired so much. He was filled. His lover was inside him. Antonio then began his rhythm. Three inches in, beyond his bulbous glans, three inches out -- his dick head forever probing within his boy. Three in, three out. In, out, in out. His motions were smooth and practiced, seemingly timed to sustain Joey's moans of pleasure. The man was silent now, but it took only a look at his tensed features to see that he was feeling excruciating pleaure himself. "Hhhhoooooooaaa ..." Joey moaned, as Antonio pushed in. "Hhhoooooooaaa ...," as he withdrew. "Hhhoooooooaaa ... hhhooooooaaa." I was entranced by the boy's audible ecstasy, and the visible evidence of where that ecstasy centered. His balls lay splayed wide within his flattened, loose ballsac, and his little penis hung soft down along his pubis, neglected and for once ignored, weaving back and forth idly. It was in his rectum that his world centered right now. His anus pushed in, then pulled out, always resisting the motion of his lover's cock. When the tool pushed in, Joey's flesh was sucked in with it, every nerve ending within his anal ring drawing attention. When the tool pulled out, the pucker formed around the shaft anew, and resisted the outward motion. Joey could not use his hands to keep his lover inside him, but his anus clamped tighter. Sweat formed on both their brows, and Joey started to move his head from side to side, in timing with Antonio's thrusts, and his own moans. I wondered if others in the household might not hear the boy, but from what Antonio's sister had said, everyone in the household knew what was going on anyway, and accepted it. Imperceptibly almost, Antonio started to quicken the pace. As he did so, his plunge just as imperceptibly deepened. His shaft was now glistening more than half way to it's root, wet with the slime from within Joey's bowels. Each withdrawal now pulled out a film of yellowish mucous that began to accumulate and trickle down the boy's crack, and towards his balls. I could literally smell the quickened, more intense pace of their loving. I was being overwhelmed with sensations -- the sounds of their moaning and the suctioning of flesh against flesh, the soft slap of Antonio's heavy balls against Joey's back, the smells, and the very real sight of a 200 pound adult male impaling a bound and immobilized 65 pound boy on his massive dick. Here was a bull elk fucking his Little Deer. Sweat now glistned over both their bodies. What chill there had been in the room was replaced by the heat of their lust. The flickering yellow glow of the lamp seemed to flow across their wet bodies, painting the man in his darker, coppery tones, and the boy in his soft golden hues. Now the man was plunging in and out in five inch strokes, and the boy was taking in fully six inches of the man's mighty tool. Joey's body was being hammered. Tied as he was into a ball, unable to flail about, the entire force of the thrusts and withdrawals was spent pushing him bodily deep into the mattress, then springing him back up. He couldn't lift his head, and the tie- straps kept his neck from bouncing in time with his lower body. I would have thought it was cruel torture, but one look at his face told me that it was exquisite torture, if at all. Joey had his mouth open now, breathing in stentorious breaths, alternatively clenching and unclenching his teeth, or biting his bottom lip. It was red and inflamed. His hair lay plastered to his wet brow or sprayed about wildly, as he swung his head from side to side. When he opened his eyes, they were a feverish, scintillating blue now, staring up unseeing. Truly all his consciousness was centered in his bowels. Joey's dick was still soft, but I knew he was cumming. I knew that everything I had read was true, that a boy could cum just by having his prostate enraged by his man's plunging dick. Rolando had proved it, and now Joey. He came just before Antonio. His moans stopped in mid-air, and his body tightened again, going from flaccid submission to rock hard, intense spasming, in an instant. I thought he was going to break his bonds, and that the ancient leather of the slave collar would burst apart. I could see the straining veins above the collar, and the bulges around the bindings on his arms and legs seemed suddenly to expand and redden even deeper. It must have been ten seconds, that he lay in excruciating, unbreathing rigidity, like that, then just as quickly as it had begun, his orgasm reached its peak as he finally screamed out incoherently. His fingers dug into the mattress and seemed to pull the fabric up impossibly. His body convulsed. It pulsed in waves, forcing his balled-up torso even higher off the bed. It met the next down thrust from his lover, and Antonio seemed to plunge all the way into the boy. It looked as if his entire eight inches were impossibly buried to the hilt inside Joey! He came instantly. Joey screamed again, feeling the hot spurts of cum inside him. I wondered if he screamed from pain too. His insides had to be pulverized and punctured from the intrusion of that massive dick, yet there was no pain in his expression, just sublime, uninterrupted bliss! Perhaps sensing that such depth was impossible but at the moment of climax, Antonio withdrew quickly. Even as he collapsed on the boy, letting his chest fall forward over Joey, pressing the boy's body down, I saw that he arched his pelvis up, tensing his thighs, to make sure his dick did not go so deep again. He gave five or six short, spastic thrusts into Joey's bottom, grunting loudly with each one, then let himself fall sideways, totally withdrawing his tool from within the boy. Cum splattered wildly as his glans sprang free of Joey's anus, with a plop. Joey was still bound, his bottom still upraised. He could only relax as he had before, by loosening his tensed muscles, and trying to breathe more smoothly and deelpy. Before his anus started to close, I could see into the red tunnel that had accepted his lover's dick.. It gaped, then started to disappear as the anal ring tightened inexhorably. Sperm mixed with the yellowish mucous, as it oozed out of Joey's body. With Antonio in post-climax delirium, I decided it was now or never. I was sad to interrupt their love-making, but I had to complete my mission. I drew my gun and stepped out of the darkness to the side of the bed. Joey saw me first. He was stunned, of course. I think he totally forgot about the unusual circumstances for a brief moment. "Who ..." he started to yell out, panicking. Then, "Uncle ... Teg? Is that you?" "Yes, Joey, it's me, Teg." I answered quickly, before Antonio hardly had the sense to become aware of what Joey had said. He opened his eyes, and started to jump up. I pointed my gun at him, and said quietly, "Just take it easy, Antonio. I'm not here to hurt anyone, much less Joey." "Who are you?" he demanded. "It's ... my uncle Teg ... oh god, you saw everything?" Joey responded, then suddenly remembered his situation, as I reached out and started untying his bindings with my free left hand. I have to give it to Antonio. He was no coward. He hardly blanched. And he didn't bluster. Calmly, sensing that Joey wasn't frightened, but rather was embarrassed, he sat up slowly, showing me his hands, and started untying Joey on the other side. "Yes, Joey, I saw everything. And we have to talk about it." "I'm ... s ...ss ... sorry ... a ... a ... about," Joey started to stutter, as he had last time we met. He had never stuttered before. I guess the loss of his mom, and the way Bill had neglected him, had done that. "Joey." I stopped him, forcefully, but gently. "There's no need to be sorry. I know you love Antonio. I know he loves you. I understand. Now, I'll holster this gun, and we can talk. You're Dad sent me, of course. I suggest you two get some clothes on, and we'll sit here and talk.." ------------------------- An hour later, I left them. They had sat hand in hand, as lovers should, as we discussed everything that led up to this moment. There were some tears all around. Sadness at what led to him running away. Joy at what he ran to. Tears that I shed, for myself and Wishus. And an agreement. Antonio would take Joey back to New Mexico. Back to the home Bill Sanders had waiting for him. The new home. One where Sanders himself understood and accepted their love. One where he had found his own beloved. Also where Antonio could complete his school work, in Sanders' employ. No more running and hiding. I could now return home too. Home. To wherever Wishus happened to be.