Date: Mon, 2 Feb 1998 22:35:06 EST
From: Wilson583@aol.com
Subject: Danny Boy

                          DANNY BOY - PART ONE
                              By joe wilson

 I could hear my mother and father say wicked things to each other.  Though
I could hear every word they said as their angry whispers penetrated thin
walls, I did't know what the words meant.  I was ten years old.  The source
of their conflict was beyond my understanding.  Then I heard a final shout,
full of hissing pain, and the house shook with the force of the slamming
front door.  Mother laughed.  There was triumph in the cackle of her sound.
I hated her.  I guess I always had.  I loved the warmth and closeness of my
Dad, who was caring and took me places and bought me toys and candy.

I didn't know it at the time, but he would never come home again.  They
divorced.  Mother got custody from the court.  Dad moved from Phoenix
to Los angeles, and I fell into the well of loneliness.


Alan Carr was the oldest boy in the 8th grade,   His family traveled a lot,
and he missed so many classes that he was held back several years.  I was
almost fourteen, but Alan was already sixteen.  He was the class sissy,
and all the boys made fun of him despite his size and maturity.

Yet I felt comfortable with Alan.  I liked him.  He waited for me every
morning at the corner so that we could walk to school together.
He always greeted me with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, moist and warm
and very pleasant.

He was a tall boy, slender in stature with long arms and gangling legs.
He walked with a graceful flair that was not acceptable to his peers.
But as they laughed at him, he laughed at them too.  Alan was comfortable
with his mannerisms; a european trait absorbed by years abroad.

His eyes were clear blue and changed color-intensity with his mood.  His
long lashes were blond and almost imperceptible, except when tears wetted
them, or sunshine glistened them.  His constant smile was mischievous as
though he knew secret things, which he did.  His teeth sparkled, and laid
claim to a healthy body, sweet-breathed and fresh.  A luscious pink on his
ivory cheeks enhanced the feeling of femininity and encouraged the boys to
ask, "Are you a girl dressed as a boy?"  His reply was always, "Lordy, I
hope not," and flounced his long blond hair by tilting his head back and
upward and rolling his eyes, his voice musical and cadenced.  As I watched
his performance, I replaced him for my uncles in my fantasies.


One morning he was more animated than usual, his smile warmer, and his
greeting kiss directed to my lips rather than my cheek.  He pressed my hand
and pulled me to him and kissed me yet again, sucking the air from my throat
through half-parted lips.  I felt a brief surge in my pee-pee, a not
uncommon excitement when I was with him.

"My parents left for New York this morning.  I'LL be alone now," he paused,
and then with a burst of confidance he added, "Will you come over this
afternoon?  You will.  I know you will."

Though  I was but a boy, underdeveloped, like fruit too green to be plucked
from the tree, I was far advanced in the knowledge of sexual processes and,
for that reason seemed always to be over-stimulated.  Looking through the
window glass, as my mother performed with my various 'uncles', the animal
simplicity of the all-important fuck left no mystery, no romantic notions.

One night I saw the homosexual alternative.  Crouching on the porch, I
watched two men tangle in a naked dance, giving of themselves each to the
other, while Mother looked on from the inside and I from the outside.  I
thought of my Dad, and wished his arms were around me, loving me.  It was
then that my fantasies shifted, and the naked male became the ultimate
goal.  And when Alan kissed me that morning, arousal stirred my immature
loins, and a certain tightness gripped my throat.  My breath came and went
in short gasping moments, and I knew my fantasies were about to happen.

How long the school day seemed as I sat several rows behind him.  I was
unable to think of anything but Alan.  He glanced back at me occasionally,
fluttering lashes and swinging blond locks, his smile, secret and knowing.
Finally the three PM bell rang.  Ignoring jeers and unkind laughter he
kissed me and took my hand.  Our friendship was public, and I revelled in
the realization of it.

There was no ceremony when we arrived into the privacy of his house.  Once
the door was closed he gathered me into his arms for a long and satisfying
kiss, while busy fingers unbuttoned my shirt.  The entry hall was dark, lit
only by the window on the stairway landing.  I felt comforted in this dim
cavern, and excited too, for I knew that we would soon be undressed.

When he dropped his silken panties, and I saw his huge upright cock
surrounded by blond hair, I wondered if he would accept my immature body,
but he put his arms around me.  He pulled me to him and his smooth satiny
skin rode over mine, sending sharp electric impulses down my spine.

"Come on," he cried in a high pitched excited voice, "Come to my rooms.
I want to eat you alive and gobble you up."  And I glanced up the stairs
watching his creamy buttocks rotate enticingly.

"Come on, Danny.  Hurry!  I can't wait!  I've wanted you for ever so long."
A moment later I was on the bed with him, our naked bodies pressed together,
our kisses were long and wet and excited me.                             

The shadows of the winter afternoon slipped into the window and darkened
the huge bed.  The covers had been thrown awry and the blue sheets took on
a darker tone.  Alan stretched, reaching for the lamp.  A loud click
announced the soft red glow giving his ivory flesh a marvelous sheen.
As he arched his body over mine, I inhaled the heat of his excesses, for
we were so positioned on the bed that the motion placed his loins scarcely
inches from my face.  A certain tightness swarmed over my neck and throat
and sharp electric pains coursed down my back.  But as my eyes feasted on
his big cock, I could not touch it, yet I wanted to.  My parched throat
needed his sweet cum to satisfy the fire burning inside, but I had not
yet learned this.

He shifted his position and brought his body lengthwise with mine.  Our skin
touched, one to the other, and his tongue sought mine.  My pee-pee was as
hard as ever it could get and, as I sensed his mouth leaving mine, tracing
wet ribbons down my neck, chest and belly, the warm moist mouth-cave lapped
at the pee-pee and hairless balls and I shuddered a dry climax.  He
continued sucking, trying to draw love-juice, but I had to pull away for the
pleasure had turned to pain.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he paused gazing at me with a caring face, flushed with warmth,
"It's the way I like it right now.  Besides, It'll happen soon enough, and
when it does I want to be the first.  The first to taste you."

"But I should do it to you too.  I want to.  I really want to.  I don't
know what is stopping me."

"That's okay.  You'll do it when you're ready, and then you'll wonder why
you waited.  Just play with it a little, with your hands,  Easy!  Ahhhh!"
and he fell onto his back, and I looked at his beauty once more.

I cupped his balls into  my hands, as gently as I could and slowly worked
the throbbing cock back and forth so that the foreskin massaged the head
of it.  His groans and twists of the torso gave me pleasure for I knew that
I was giving pleasure to him.  And then his cock seemed to stiffen even
more, and sticky white cream spurted on to his shoulder and his face, and
an errant stream struck me in the chest.  I watched in wonderment as the
faithful geyser called up from the reservoir in the depths of him, and
splashed its pleasure over both of us.  He raised his arms and drew me to
him and as we kissed, I could feel him still spouting between my legs.


Several afternoons later we lay naked upon the bed of blue sheets, under
the red lamp, which fought the darkness of the winter sky.  We had
completed our preliminary caresses and kisses, and had honed the sharpness
of the blades of passion to their most stretched-out point.  A great surge
of lust engulfed me, and with unaccustomed abandon, I cupped his testicles
in my hands and squeezing gently, I watched his cock harden to its full  
power.  The foreskin rolled back, and the shiny glans penus beckoned me.
Caught in its' power, I leaned forward and kissed it lightly on the exposed
tip.  I closed my eyes and sucked it into my mouth, and in that instant,
I learned the peace and harmony and complete fulfillment that belongs only
to the cocksucker.

His slow thrusts forced his cock deeper into my throat.  It was accompanied
by almost silent whimpering.  And as I sucked the heat of him, his intensity
grew just as the fullness of his cock grew, and his pleasure caused him to
cry out, and I knew that it was I who now controlled him.  It was my destiny
to bring him to an orgasmic climax.  It was then I learned the power and
excitement of the tease.

"Danny," he cried, "Danny...."

I kissed his balls and slithered my tongue up the underside of the shaft,
and he moaned his hunger, growled his needs, thrashed his naked body about.
His hard cock satisfied my own hungers in an oblique and subtle way.  This
was it.  What I had been searching for.  I pulled away, and sitting up
on my haunches I took several long minutes to look at this beautiful animal.
For he was beautiful.  A slim and naked body, white and silken, luscious
peach tones, and wreath of blond hair surrounding a soaring cock.

In the mirror on the wall, I saw my own undeveloped body.  A boy, a nymph?
A boy with the passions of a man.  And I bent forward again and sucked the
love cream from his spouting fountain.


We shared our love every afternoon in the darkened bedroom of the blue
sheets and ruby lamp.  In April as the spring developed, so did I.  That is,
I developed my own spring.  And one raining afternoon, in the heat of
prolonged foreplay, he buried his nose and chin in the sparse black wiry
pubic hair that had so recently grown down there.  He kissed and slobbered
upon my soaring cock, and swallowed it down his throat.  And I spouted great
gobs of cum for the first time ever, and when my convulsive thrusts ended
in exhaustion, he kissed me on opened lips, so that I too, could taste
my own sweet sticky essence.


                           DANNY BOY - PART TWO
                              by joe wilson

 In June, the long days of summer began.  Alans' family closed the house
on the hill, for they moved to New York.  It would seem that I should be
devastated at losing the beautiful Alan, but instead, I was relieved to
see him go.  I was fast approaching my full maturity, my manhood, if
you can call a fifteen year old boy a man.  For my sexual needs increased
with each encounter I had with Alan.

After many months of afternoon trysts with the golden boy, I lost that
first immediate and overwhelming passion I felt for him.  His sweetness
and effeminate ways, though always exciting, did not completely satisfy
me.  In my secret thoughts, I was haunted by the image of more mature
men.  Perhaps it was the need of a young boy for his father; I had not
seen mine in five years.


After a long, boring and uneventful summer, I returned to school with
increased anticipation,  The tenth grade.  A freshman in high school.
'A new adventure,' I told myself.  I was the youngest in a student body
of nine hundred boys and men.

I had little interest in sports, but the compulsory gym class was an
exciting revelation.  I could barely contain myself when I walked into
the steamy locker and shower room, and saw men and boys of every description,
naked and totally unabashed by it, cavorting in the mist from the shower,
bragging over the development of pubic hair and growing penises.  I proudly
exhibited my own body as they did theirs, and thus took pleasure in walking
naked among my peers, but  my ever-active imagination concentrated on the
loving aspects of certain cocks, swinging like pendulums, cut or uncut,
and the familiar stirrings in my loins forced me to cover myself with a
towel.   It struck me how much I needed the physical contact that I once had
with Alan......the feel of a warm, silky body rubbing aginst mine.....the
splash of cum in the back of my throat.

I learned that later, in the afternoon the older students, those active in
sports, the jocks, used the shower and locker room after practice sesions.
I applied for, and got, the job of gathering up the used towels, damp from
caressing secret places, straightening the benches, making certain all the
lockers were locked, and that the water in the showers was turned off.
This marvelous job authorized me to be in the gym when the athletes were
there......thirty or forty or fifty naked men, not boys, strutting their
macho bodies for me.  I sat on a bench, my back against the wall and
watched them, horny and ready.  I was naked too, but I covered my throbbing
cock, carefully and securely, with a towel.


One raining afternoon, though practice had been cancelled, I went into the
gym.  I heard the sound of the shower splashing its force upon the tile
floor.  I had expected it would be empty, but was thrilled when I realized
someone was there.  He had his back to me as he soaped his body, but I
recognized Bill Hogan, the tall, slim, wiry macho basketball player.  He
was the top athlete of the school.  A real letterman-hero, and my fantasy
lover.

I sat at my usual place on the bench where I had full view of the shower-
room.  Pulling down my fly I reached my hand inside.  My fingers excited
my cock as they massaged the warm love-nest of pubic hair, solid balls
and rising muscle-meat.

He turned toward me slightly, just enough for me to see the profile of his
body strung with sinewy muscle.  His cock jutted out in a horizontal
stance.  It was erect and he was pumping it.  The soapy foreskin slid back
and forth over the tip as he masturbated.  His eyes were closed, living a
secret dream.  As I watched, observing all the beautiful proportions of
his naked body, I knew I had to have him.  I had to taste that luscious
cock.  'I can give him pleasure,' I thought, 'Better than jacking off.'
I thought of Alan, the sweet effeminate Alan Carr.  I realized how far
in the past Alan was.  He was only a brief interlude, a stepping stone to
the sensual side of life.  But I needed him no more.  It was men, men like
Bill Hogan that I craved.

Without realizing what I was doing until it was done, I slipped out of my
clothes.  Naked, I was drawn into the shower-room like a piece of flotsam
caught in a whirlpool.

I was beside him now, the warm water cascaded down upon us.  Suddenly, he
realized he was not alone, and he turned to me, opening his eyes.  He
resented being interrupted, the intrusion of another body.

"Hey," he cried.

"I can't help it," I said, reaching to him.

"What the fuck you think you're doing?"

"I can't help it," and my fingers grazed over the low-hanging testicles,
the hairs wetted and plastered to the wrinkled skin. "Please, please
don't stop me."

"Aaaahhhh!," he moaned, smiling at last, and I knelt down and his cock
slipped into my mouth.

I had forgotton how sweet the pleasure could be, the sense of harmony and
completeness overwhelmed me.  On my knees, my arms grabbed his buttocks
pulling him to me so that his cock could go deeper into my throat.  The
water splashed out of the shower and pounded upon my head and shoulders.
With a cry, he thrust his hips forward and ejected his spurts of cum into
my mouth, one and then another and another, in so rapid succession that
I could barely swallow them in time to receive the next.  And as he emptied
his orgasm into me, my own cock ejaculated cream onto the tile floor and
the water washed the cum down the drain.

"Jesus christ!" he said at last as he leaned his willowy stature against
the wall.  "Jesus H. Christ!"  But he was smiling, and I knew that he
was mine.

Now every afternoon, when practice sessions were over, we were the last
to leave.  Alone in the shower we satisfied our lust, for his needs
were as great as mine.


The following February, I looked out the window of the bus as it sloshed
through puddles of warm rain that had accumulated on the surface of
interstate 10.  The wide and heavy tires sang a monotonous litany in an
uninterrupted rhythm that counterpointed the heavy beating of my heart.
Outside the window was the desert that connected Phoenix to Los Angeles.
I was on my way to live with my Dad, a circumstance that should have
lightened my heart, but instead, clouded it with an imposing dread.  I was
being sent to him by my mother and her newly acquired husband.

"We wash our hands of you," they yelled.

The principal of the high school had called them.  I was suspended.
The gym teacher had come into the locker room just as I was sucking on Bill
Hogans' cock.  The teacher didn't mention him, but I was reported with
indignant complaint and graphic description.  And now I was on my way to
my Dad, a man I deeply loved, but had not seen in almost six years.
Needless to say I was devastated.  For the first time, great shades of
guilt and confusion consumed me.  How can I face my father now?

It was raining in Los Angeles when the bus pulled into the station.
A warm heavy rain beating down with an ominous pressure.  The heaviness
in my heart and the sinking feeling washed over me like a giant wave, as
I saw him standing there in the open, away from shelter, carefully
calculating where the bus would stop and the door open.  He was smiling.

"Danny!" he cried. and he hugged me, smothering me with kisses, holding
me close, then forcing me away so that he could look at me.  Only the
rain came between us and it didn't matter.

"You're so tall.  Not the little boy anymore.  Oh Danny!  I'm so glad
you've come.  I knew you would one day.  We have so much to talk about."

His enthusiasm was the palliative that resolved my doubts and forebodings.
"He doesn't know why Mother sent me to him."  And I was caught up in his
excitement.  I smiled, then laughed and hugged him as he pulled me out of
the drenching rain into the station where we waited for my suitcase.  And
we looked at each other once more with mounting approval.  "It's going
to be alright," I said to myself.  "It's okay.  He doesn't know."

He gave me a bottle of beer with dinner, my first, and his eyes sparkled
as he poured the amber liquid into a glass.  "This will warm you and make
you sleep tonight."

As our clothes were wet from the rain, we changed into  warm robes, and
sat by the fire which crackled with burning eucalyptus, as we became
acquainted once more.  As I looked at him I tried to fit him into the six
years we had been separated.  At sixteen, six years is an enormous gap,
yet our thoughts seemed to meld together, and soon it was as though we
had never parted.

He appeared to have lost heighth.  My impression of him had been that he
was overly tall, but I myself had almost doubled in size during the
intervening years so that now we were the same except for weight.
He was younger than I remembered.  Now that I had caught up to him in
height, so too was I gaining in years.  His clean-shaven face was young
and boyish.  Uncombed hair fell over his forehead and into his blue eyes
which seemed to dart everywhere, alive and interested in my stories of
growing up.  He tossed his head back and laughed delightedly at all my
adventures.

His hands were soft, his nails manicured.  The robes we wore were of
light cashmere.  I glanced around the room and sensed an aura of under-
stated luxury, orderly and beautiful....white carpeting, elegant lamps,
silken draperies covered the windows and muffled the traffic on Los
Feliz Boulevard.

"I'm doing well, Danny," he said quietly.  I've worked hard and it's paid
off.....nothing fancy, you understand, nor important either.  I bought
a small bar downtown, just a little place, and they went and built the
courthouse right across the street.  Big shots of customers.  So I raised
the prices.  I fixed it up like a club.  Got a decorator and everything,
and the high rollers in the city liked it.  I'm only open from three in the
afternoon till nine or ten at night, so for a long time I ran it myself,
no payroll or expenses.  Now I have a bartender who watches the place when
I'm away, like tonight.  Being in the civic enter, I close on saturday and
sunday, so it's as easy as it is lucrative.  And the next two days I can
show you the town.  You've never seen the ocean, have you Danny? And how
about Hollywood?  Right up the hill behind us ia a planetarium and you
can see all over the city."

He was flooded with happy excitement and it was infectious, and I forgot
the reason I was sent to him.  For a moment I was happy too.  I told him
of my dreams, as he told me of his, and we shared a closeness that had
always been there despite our separation.  The contentedness that flooded
over me, combined with the warmth of hearth and the beer, and a demanding
drowsiness came over me.

Dads' apartmeent had but one bedroom, but the bed was huge, and as he tucked
in a corner of it, he kissed me with a wish for pleasant dreams and I
was asleep.

Sometime in the night, I awoke with the familiar sense of dread that
clouded over me ever since I was sent to the principals' office.  My Dad
was wonderful and being here with him was wonderful, but Mother will tell
him about me I knew.  It was only a matter of time until he would learn
the truth, and my whole body blushed with the shame that had come to me.

I fretted for what seemed a long time trying not to shift position too
frequently and thus disturb Dad.  I was too agitated to sleep, too burdened
with concern.

As the dawn began to lighten the sky, I realized that Dad was awake too.
The bed moved when he turned around.  I felt his warm hand on hy hip as
he touched me.

"Danny," he whispered, "Danny, you awake?"

I eased onto my back facing the dark recesses of the ceiling, "Yes Dad,
I'm awake."

"Danny, you okay?  You seemed kind of worried last night and I don't
think you slept much.  Seems to me like somethings eating you,"
He raised himself on one arm and looked down at me in the dim light of
dawn.

I didn't say anything, but pulled my robe over, to cover me, for in the
night it had fallen away.  "I guess I'm okay Dad, it's just......well,
it's just that I'm here and you should know why I'm here."

"But I do know, Danny."  He was speaking in a low voice, "Your mother
told me all the details about you and the boy at school."

I didn't answer him.  What could I say?  I was only conscious now of
him looking at me, knowing that he knew all along what I had done.
I started to cry, and as I tried to withhold the tears, a choking sob
broke loose.

"Ah, Danny, don't cry.  There's no reason for you to cry."  He put his arm
around me and drew me to him.  His warm, hairy, silky flesh comforted
my misery, and I snuggled into him, twisting a little so that I could
look at him.  In the dim light, the softened and gentle expression filled
me with a warm glow as I accepted his kiss.  My arm was around his shoulder
holding him to me lest something should pull us apart, and my free hand
touched his testicles, protected by fine spider-web hair, an then his
swollen penis, I encircled it with my fingers and rolled the foreskin
over that most sensitive ridge.  The past few years had taught me much
in how to give pleasure to a man.  I pulled away to look at his body.
He was looking at me too.

He was naked, no encumbrances clothed him.  I slipped out of the robe that
I only half wore, and was naked too.  I liked the hair on his body,
surrounding his absolutely huge cock.  His eyes twinkled as he smiled
and I realized he was not at all embarrassed, and neither was I.  In fact,
we were both proud of our excited and erect cocks. I put my arms around him
and kissed him again, my tongue deep in his mouth, and then pulled away.

I knelt upright on the bed and bent forward.  Tracing my tongue down his
long torso, I stopped at each nipple for a few moments titillation,
and then to the belly button, and then I slipped over the cock and hairy
balls.  His male smell was stong and musky and excited me.  He put pressure
on my left leg.  I knew what he wanted, so I straddled his head, just
behind the shoulders, and I lowered my loins to his open mouth.  I licked
and sucked his balls, then guided my tongue up the shaft of his penis,
sensing the bulging vessels filled with blood, to the tip.  He lay still
as I sucked his cock into my mouth.  Ah my god!  This is Dad, my Dad.  He
lay still groaning, in almost inaudible gasps.  And then the real pleasure
came to me as he took my cock.  His warm, wet tongue licked it.  The
sweet pleasure came two ways, giving and receiving.

The primal need we had that night soon took over, and despite our desire
to prolong our pleasures, the passion climbed quickly, soaring to that
exquisite non-returnable level, pumping, groaning, sucking faster and
faster to a gushing climax of sweet cum.  Sated, yet hungry for more, we
separated, fully aware that this was only the beginning of an inevitable
happening that was beyond our contol.

"Danny?"

"Yes, Dad."

"You see, Danny, how it with me.  The same as you.  We are what we are,
Danny, and there's no use denying it.  Lord knows there was a time when I
tried to be something else, but it doesn't work.  You understand what I
mean, don't you?"

"Yes, Dad, I do......I understand....I'm glad they made me come to you."

"So am I, Danny." And he put his arms around me and kissed me, and we
began again slowly, this time...........

                      -------------------------


He stirred, a slight tightening of arms, a shift of position.  The sound
of the steady drum of the rain upon the roof carried me to full
wakefulness.  A soft light flooded the room as he snapped the switch on
the lamp.  "Aaaaaah, Danny....you okay?"

"Yes Dad, I'm okay now," and I twisted around so that I could see him,
look into his eyes.  I returned his smile with my own.

"Does it bother you?  What we did?"

"No Dad.  I'm a little sore maybe.  Kinda tender down there, but I
wouldn't trade it for anything."

"I mean doin it.  Letting me fuck you, you know.  We did a lot of stuff
together, the sex and all, I mean.  It's not the most acceptable thing,
a father and son, you know what I mean, what I'm trying to say?"

"Shit!  That I feel guilty?"  I laughed, "Making it with my Dad?"  I sat
up on the bed, my eyes held his in a steady lock.  "I loved it, Dad.
Every minute of it.  I feel free now.  Comfortable with my self.

"Even when I first made it with Alan, I felt there was something wrong
about it.  I guess it was the guilties.  And then when they caught me
going down on Bill, I was ashamed.  They made me ashamed for what I was.
They kept calling me queer and sissy and faggot.  But now I know what
I am.  I'm not bad, I'm just different,  I can't help it.  That's the
way I am.  And if I get off sucking on your cock, or any one elses, that
doesn't make me any less a person does it............?"

And so I found where I belonged in the scheme of things, and the direction
I took, the path I followed, led to a wonderful life of freedom and
fulfillment, but that is a story that is yet to be told.......


joe wilson

I would appreciate your comments
e-mail to     wilson583@aol.com