The following contains scenes of sexual activity between males. If it is illegal for you to read this in your jurisdiction or if you feel you may be offended by doing so, please read no further. The characters portrayed in this story may engage in behaviors that would today be considered unwise and unsafe. The author does not encourage such behavior: nor does he condone the violation of any laws. Please respect yourself and your partners. Please do not copy or distribute this story without the knowledge or permission of the author.
    This story contains some elements of a previous story of mine, The Secrets of Waldo. If you would like to read other works by me, go to the Nifty Home Page and click on the FreeThinker link under  Prolific Authors.  All characters in the story are fictional and any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This is fiction and a fantasy. It did not happen.
    Any use of racial epithets is not intended to be offensive in any way, but is used to show the state of mind of the character using them. The author rejects all forms of bigotry and racism, as the story will show.
 

    I would like to know what you think. If you have any comments or suggestions, please email them to my new address: fthinker@ gmail.com. Thank you so much for reading my story and for the wonderful support you have given me over the last three years. Special thanks to Bill L for his special help.




Courage and Passion
By FreeThinker
“The school-boy, above all others, is not the simple being the world imagines. In that young bosom, are often stirring passions as strong as our own, desires not less violent, a volition not less supreme. In that young bosom, what burning love, what intense ambition, what avarice, what lust of power, envy that fiends might emulate, hate that men might fear.”
Benjamin Disraeli, British Prime Minister and novelist, Coningsby, 1844



Chapter Seven
The Many Forms of Love and Friendship

    A brisk October breeze blew through the shorts of the hundred or so boys running around the grounds behind Emerson Middle School. Ethan was having serious trouble keeping up with Robby and Zhenya as they rounded the east end of the playing fields. Sean had completely given up on any pretense of a respectable run and was far behind the pack, struggling just to finish one lap.
    With the afternoon sun in his eyes, Ethan didn’t see Biff LaFrance maneuvering back until he was even with him. Nor did he see Gavin Dietrich moving forward from behind to Robby’s left. Robby, however, did see them, though he didn’t have time to wonder why as he and Ethan suddenly found themselves collapsing onto the ground. Others in the class either ran over them, (smashing their hands, arms, or legs), or ran around them yelling insults and curses. It was not until Sean was even with them that they were able to resume running, their knees scraped and bloody.
    Zhenya saw the whole thing as they neared the coach, who was standing outside the locker room door and had observed the entire episode, but had said nothing. Zhenya watched until Coach looked away for a second and, then, reached out and, grabbing the back of Biff’s t-shirt, yanked. The surprise combined with the force of the yank, threw him off-balance and he tripped over his feet. Zhenya just happened to be there to “accidentally” plant a foot directly over the kid’s crotch as he ran on.
    Biff was still yelling insults about “fucking Commie faggots” and struggling to stand up as Ethan, Robby, and Sean, coming up the rear, ran past.
    “Quit whining, LaFrance,” Coach barked. “I’ve got too many girls in this class as it is without having to listen to your bleating.”
    The class was standing around on the asphalt cooling off and catching their breath after the run. Matt Hunter and Jack Purvis were standing at the side of the collective. Ethan watched suspiciously as Sean slowly staggered past them, panting and struggling to regain his breath as he approached Ethan and Robby. Suddenly, Purvis started toward Sean, but Matt Hunter did a strange thing. He grabbed Purvis’ shoulder and restrained him. Purvis looked at him as if he were insane. Ethan watched as they exchanged a few words and, then, shockingly, Purvis simply shrugged and walked away. Sean was completely unaware of the incident, but Ethan had seen it in its entirety. Matt’s eyes were slowly roaming across the gathering until they met Ethan’s. They looked at each other for a moment and, then, Matt looked quickly away.
    “All right, ladies,” the coach bellowed, “you have the rest of the period free. Form up a couple of teams for some football.”
    The coach disappeared around the corner as Jason and another eighth grader, Daniel Gordon, took their customary leadership positions and began calling off their teams. Robby wandered over to Ethan’s side as Zhenya crossed his arms, knowing there would be wait before any of them were chosen. As Ethan watched the gathering, he smiled as he watched Matt Hunter slip through the door to the locker room. He assumed Matt was skipping out of the game.
    However, as the choosing inevitably came down to the just the three of them, (even Tim Zitisky was chosen before one of them was), Ethan was surprised that Sean was not among the remaining unwanted. He looked around and as he and Robby found themselves on Jason’s team with Zhenya walking over to Daniel’s, Ethan asked his friend, “Hey, where’s Sean?”
    Robby looked around and when he didn’t see him, replied, “Maybe he went in to use the restroom.”
    Ethan said nothing but followed Robby to the scrimmage line. After several plays, he looked back toward the locker room, but saw no Sean. Or Matt.
    By the time Coach emerged from the door to the gym and blew his whistle for the boys to head for the locker room, neither Sean nor Matt had appeared. Robby and Zhenya were chatting about the differences between the Youth Symphony and the school orchestra as they strolled back to the locker room. Ethan was thinking and paying no attention until they entered the door. Looking around, he saw Matt was already dressed and heading out the door in his grungy jeans and pullover. Sean was seated on his bench, with only his shoes and socks remaining to be put on.
    Ethan’s gym locker was near Sean’s and as he sat down and began to remove his sneakers, he looked over and asked, “Hey, what happened to you?”
    He could not have missed Sean’s sudden look of discomfort if he had been blind.
    “Um, what do you mean?”
    Ethan pulled his socks off.
    “You weren’t outside during the game. Did you come in?”
    Sean stood in his socks and quickly slipped his feet into his loafers.
    “Um, yeah. I, uh, I wasn’t feeling too good after all the running.”
    Before, Ethan could say anything else, Sean quickly walked away without another word and exited the door to the hallway. Ethan raised an eyebrow and whipped off his sweaty t-shirt. As he slipped his shorts off, Robby was walking by toward the shower.
    “What’s the matter?” he asked as Ethan joined him, narrowly avoiding Zac Melville and Superdick emerging from the showers.
    “Nothing.”
    Robby stepped under an empty showerhead.
    “You look like something’s wrong. I can tell.”
    Ethan took a deep breath and waited for an empty showerhead.
    “Later.”
    Robby frowned, but accepted his friend’s answer.
    However, Ethan remained uncharacteristically quiet and moody during Seventh Period Orchestra. Even Zhenya noticed. While Mr. Stern was discussing something with the woodwinds, Zhenya looked down the row at Ethan, who was looking at the floor thoughtfully as he tapped his bow on his shoulder. Zhena whispered to Robby, “Ethan is thoughtful.  Is he worried?”
    “Something’s up. I don’t know what, but I’ll find out after school.”
    However, as the bell rang and everyone began putting their instruments away, Ethan shook his head when Robby asked if he wanted to talk. Sean was passing by and Robby saw him glance nervously at Ethan. Ethan seemed deliberately to wait for Sean to leave before he began to walk toward the door.
    “Is there something wrong with Sean?” Robby asked.
    “Why do you ask?”
    “Well you’ve been acting weird ever since you asked where he was when we were lining up for football. And, he sure looked weird when he walked by just now.”
    They were in the hallway now and Sean had just started down the stairs to the first floor.
    “Listen,” said Ethan, “I’ll talk with you later. I’ve got something I need to do right now. OK?”
    Robby frowned.
    “Why all the mystery, all of a sudden? What’s going on?”
    They were on the stairs and Ethan watched Sean as he turned toward the right and the side door, instead of the left and toward their lockers. Robby didn’t notice; he was too busy trying to figure out his friend.
    “Trust me, OK?” said Ethan. “This is real important. I’ll meet you at your place later. OK?”
    Robby could tell by the insistent tone in his voice that Ethan meant business.
    “OK,” he said warily. He turned toward the locker, but looked back in surprise when he saw Ethan turn to the right.
    Ethan could see through the crowds ahead that Sean was at the side door. Quickly, he hurried and emerged into the cool air in the shadow of the east side of the building. Looking around, he couldn’t, at first, see where Sean had gone. But, a movement to the right caught his eye where he wasn’t expecting it. He turned and saw Sean, with his flute case, walking toward the far end of the bleachers flanking the playing field. Ethan stood behind an old maple near the door, partially obscured from Sean’s view, hoping it was enough for the boy not to notice him watching. He waited until Sean disappeared around the corner of a concrete wall at the edge of the bleacher and hurried across the grounds  As Ethan climbed through the girders and supports, he listened. There were definitely voices, hushed and muffled, from behind the wall. He reached the edge and listened.
    “Man, that scared the fuck outta me when Coach came in. I thought you were gonna piss all over me. Man, that look on your face was great.”
    “I was so scared. I’ve never been that scared in my whole life.”
    Some of Ethan’s suspicions were confirmed. That was Matt Hunter’s voice with Sean. Something was definitely going on. Ethan felt guilty. This was a complete violation of his principles, but it was for Sean’s protection, he told himself, though he only half believed it.
    “Ah, man. That feels so good. Yeah. Jack me off, fag.”
    Ethan’s eyes grew wide.
    “Oh, yeah. Yeah.”
    Ethan debated whether to intervene. Perhaps, this was something Sean wanted to do. Did he have a right to embarrass the kid? Sean was so easily upset and hurt. Yet, if this bully was forcing Sean to have sex with him, Ethan had an obligation to come to his aide.
    “You… you want me… you want me to suck you?” Sean asked.
    Suck? Ethan wasn’t expecting that question. He heard Matt chuckle.
    “You like sucking my dick?”
    There was a pause and, then, Ethan heard Sean whisper, “Yeah.”
    “You’re a good fag. Yeah. Suck me.”
    Ethan’s mouth opened in shock.
    “What are ya doin’ with that paper?” Matt asked.
    “I don’t want to get my knees dirty. Granddad asked me why my knees were dirty the other day and I don’t like to lie to him.”
    Ethan felt a sudden desire to hug the boy and rescue him. Sean was too sweet to be in such a situation.
    “Come on, man. I’m so fuckin’ horny. I been waitin’ all fuckin’ day.”
    Ethan clenched his fists as he felt a surge of guilt. He was getting hard listening to this.
    “Oh, yeah. Lick it. Lick it all over. Yeah. You got the best fuckin’ mouth. Yeah, lick my balls.”
    Ethan put his hand to his face and clenched his eyes, imagining the sweet, quiet boy on his knees licking Matt’s cock and balls. He thought he was pretty knowledgeable about sex, but he had never thought of sucking and licking down there. Joshua, his father’s student, certainly hadn’t done that with him.
    He could hear the sucking sounds and he saw in his mind Matt’s cock fucking in and out of Sean’s mouth. He was so torn. He had to stop this, yet he wanted to hear everything that happened.
    Matt kept moaning and muttering nasty comments.
    “Yeah, jack yourself off, fag. Yeah, get off on suckin’ my dick.”
    Ethan’s head fell back against the wall. Sean was beating off! He had heard enough. He swallowed and stepped away from the wall. Gingerly climbing through the girders and supports, he crawled out of the bleachers and walked quickly back toward the east door of the school.
    His mind was reeling with images that just didn’t make sense. A boy like Sean, sweet and innocent, sucking the dick of a bully and thug like Matt. Ethan wasn’t judging the situation. He would be the last person to say one could not do that or that one didn’t have the right to be friends with someone from a different background. Heck, that was more than all right. It was just, Sean and Matt! How in the world would those two hook up?
    He reached his locker and spun the dial. When the door opened, he saw movement to his right. Sean was approaching down the deserted hallway, slowly and unsurely. Ethan took his time pulling out his backpack. Slowly he picked up his Social Studies, French, and Math books for his weekend homework and put them in the bag. By the time he was zipping it up, Sean was coming up to him.
    “What are you doing here so late?” he asked softly and uncertainly as he played with his lock.
    “Um, nothing. Just had to check on something.”
    Sean bit his lip and opened his locker.
    “Um, I saw you walk in the door,” he said looking down inside the locker, but not moving. “Did you follow me?”
    Ethan felt his face flush with shame. He bit his lip, as well, and slowly closed the door of his locker. He looked up and saw the pain in Sean’s face.
    “What are you boys still doing here?”
    Ethan turned to find Mr. Huber approaching from behind.
    “We, um, forgot some books,” he said quickly.
    Mr. Huber gave Ethan a suspicious look, obviously remembering his last run-in with him.
    “Come on,” said the principal gruffly. “Let’s go.”
    Sean quickly gathered his books and closed his locker. The principal followed them to the lobby and watched them until they were descending the steps outside. The last of the school buses was pulling away as they silently walked toward the street past the concrete benches surround the flag pole. The head custodian was lowering the flag and neither boy spoke until they had crossed the street.
    “Sean, can I talk to you?”
    “Look, Ethan, just leave me alone, OK? Just leave me alone!”
    Sean sounded as if he were about to start crying.
    “Sean, I’m your friend! I just want to know that you’re OK. He’s not forcing you to do this, is he?”
    Sean raised the arm that was carrying his flute and covered his eyes. He let out an agonized moan. Ethan dropped his backpack and violin and put his arm around the boy, ignoring they were directly in front of the school and on a corner in full view of anyone passing.
    “Sean, I’m your friend. Please, please. Let’s talk, OK?”
    Sean dropped his arms and stood in an attitude of defeat, his shoulders slumped, his eyes downcast. Finally, he whispered, “You want to come in?”
    Ethan smiled and nodded. Slowly, Sean turned and walked across the grass at the side of his house toward the privacy fence. Ethan followed him around it to the back porch and into the mud room. Immediately, he was greeted with the wonderful smell of some meat dish baking in the oven.
    “Well, Sean, sweetie, you brought a friend home!”
    A elderly black woman hugged the boy and kissed his forehead.
    “Marvela, this is Ethan. Ethan this is Marvela.”
    Ethan wasn’t sure he approved of servants, but he smiled warmly at Marvela and said hello. The housekeeper led them into the living room, where Ethan saw an elderly man seated on the edge of a couch reading an old book. He heard Nat King Cole singing “Ramblin’ Rose” from the hi-fi in the corner.
    “Mr. Lindquist. Look here. Sean brought a friend home!”
    Ethan immediately liked Sean’s grandfather. Standing, the gentleman’s face broke into a joyful, warm smile. He brushed his fingers through his thinning blond hair and said, “How wonderful! I’m Anders Lindquist, Sean’s grandfather. And, you are?”
    “Ethan Spencer. I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Lindquist.”
    “Ah, yes. The violinist we met at the audition. I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to chat that day. Sean’s told me about you. I’ve read your father’s poetry. It’s quite good. Very original.”
    Ethan smiled.
    “Yeah, it is original.”
    “Put your things down and have a seat, please!”
    Ethan could sense the unease in Sean, but his grandfather seemed so eager to entertain, that he nodded and set his backpack and violin on the floor behind one of the overstuffed chairs. He sat down by the fireplace as Sean took the other chair.
    The three chatted for a quarter of an hour as Marvela brought hot cocoa. Ethan described life in The Village and the various characters he had met there as Mr. Lindquist listened with rapt attention. Sean soon felt more relaxed and calm.
    At a lull in the conversation, Mr. Lindquist looked down at his lap and said, “Well, I’ve been guilty of monopolizing your friend, Sean. I’m sure you young men have better things to do than chat with an old man!”
    “Nah, this is pretty cool!” said Ethan honestly, to Mr. Lindquist’s delight. Sean grinned.
    “Um, would you like to see my room?”
    “Sure,” Ethan replied, knowing that Sean needed to talk. He stood and followed the boy through the foyer and down the hallway. They entered a room at the back that did not look like a boy’s bedroom. There was an ancient wooden bed with an old-fashioned spread of brown designs against one wall, an antique dresser against another wall, and a small desk with a classical looking lamp. On the wall were several framed prints of landscapes and on top of the dresser was a framed photograph of a young couple and a little blond boy.
    “This is a nice room,” Ethan said as Sean moved behind him to close the door. “Your grand-dad is pretty cool. I really like him.”
    Sean nodded as he moved to the desk and pulled the chair out, gesturing for Ethan to sit down. Sean sat on the edge of the bed and nervously clutched his hands.
    “Sean, I…”
    “Look, it’s not what you think.”
    “Sean, I don’t care if you’re fooling around with Matt. That’s cool. Robby and I are boyfriends.”
    “I know.”
    “You know?” Ethan was surprised.
    “Sure. I overheard you one day. It wasn’t like I was eavesdropping or anything. You were just talking in the hall…”
    “Well, it doesn’t matter. So, are… you and… Matt…”
    Sean took a deep breath and bit his lip again.
    “Sean, I am the coolest person in the world about stuff. You don’t need to be embarrassed about anything with me.”
    Sean saw the earnest look in Ethan’s eyes. He nodded.
    “I know. It’s just… well, one day Matt caught me like… doing it in the bathroom, you know…” Sean simulated masturbating and Ethan grinned.
    “and he wanted me to do it to him.”
    “So, Matt’s into guys, too. Wow. I’d have never guessed.”
    Sean swallowed.
    “Well, I don’t know if he is, but he said that if I’d take care of him, he’d take care of me. He said he’d make sure no one messed with me anymore. So, he sort of watches out for me now and I… well, I… you know.”
    “Oh, Sean… man, you don’t need to do that. You got Robby and me and Zhenya as friends. We can help you out. You can rely on us. You don’t need to make some deal like that with Matt.”
    Sean looked at the oval shaped rug on the floor.
    “You don’t understand. Matt’s like super tough and nobody gives him grief and since we made our deal, nobody’s messed with me and… you don’t know what it’s like to get beat-up all the time and laughed at all the time and… well…”
    “Sean, I heard the way he was talking to you. He was calling you ‘fag’ and names and talking to you like you were his servant. You’re not his slave, are you?”
    “He’s not really mean to me. That’s just the way he is. Actually, I think he likes me. Maybe he’s just afraid to act like it. But, he’s really not mean to me.”
    Ethan looked at Sean with such compassion that the boy blushed. He stood and sat beside Sean, wrapping an arm around him. Sean stiffened at first and, then, relaxed, leaning against Ethan and closing his eyes.
    “I know I’m never going to have a boyfriend like you and Robby are.”
    “That’s not true,” said Ethan. “You could get a boyfriend easy.”
    “No way. I’m getting too fat and…”
    “You’re not fat. You’re not even chubby. Sure, you’re putting on a little weight, but you’re not too much more than average. And, you’re cute. You really are.”
    Sean blushed and shook his head.
    “No, I’m not. My face is too round and my hair is dorky and I dress like a goofus and I’m boring…”
    “Oh, man, Sean, stop. You can’t think about yourself like that. You are really cute! Really. If Robby wasn’t already my boyfriend…”
    Sean snorted.
    “You’re just saying that…”
    But, before Sean could finish, Ethan had taken his face in his hand and turned it toward him. Just inches from his face, Ethan grinned, closed his eyes, and brought his lips to Sean’s. At first, Sean stiffened in surprise, but then relaxed as Ethan’s lips pressed against his. After a moment, Ethan pulled away and took Sean’s hand in his.
    “Sean, Robby and I are your friends. I want you to know that you can rely on us for anything, anytime. All you have to do is ask. You don’t need to suck Matt’s dick for protection.”
    Sean smiled sheepishly.
    “Well, actually, I… um, I kind of like it, in a way.”
    Ethan grinned.
    “Well, you horny devil.”
    “Don’t you suck Robby’s dick?”
    “Well, not yet. But, I’m going to tonight!”
    Sean giggled.
    “Thanks, Ethan. Thanks for being my friend.”
    “Hey, anytime. And, remember, if he ever does anything mean to you, if he ever hurts you, you let me know. OK?”
    Sean swallowed, bit his lip again, and nodded. Ethan leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
000


    October in Sheffield was definitely not like October in Moscow, Zhenya mused as he walked home. For one thing, it was cool, but not cold. For another, there was the strange American custom of carving faces in pumpkins and putting them on display outside homes. And, he couldn’t understand why kids would expend so much energy raking up the leaves in their yards only to jump into the piles and spread them around again! Americans were strange.
    He crossed his front yard, which was covered with leaves he had not raked, and sat down on the step. For the first time in several weeks, Zhenya had an afternoon free from responsibilities. The Youth Symphony did not have a practice that day. Ian was not scheduled to practice with him or work on his English with him. His father had no social functions at the college to which he would be dragged. He had two hours to himself, totally to himself. Freedom.
    Several younger boys rode past on their bikes, chattering and throwing good natured insults at each other. A helicopter flew overhead as the sounds of traffic on Providence fought with the squawks of the starlings in the orange and green maples lining 18th St.  Zhenya frowned.
    He felt lonely. There was something missing in his life and he wasn’t sure what it could be. He had freedom now. He didn’t have to worry about expressing the wrong opinion or voicing a dangerous thought. Emerson Middle School was mercifully free of the strict, almost militaristic discipline of his schools back in Moscow and Prague. He wasn’t forced to join the Young Pioneers. He had friends. Well, he had three friends.
    Perhaps, that is what was missing in his life. A sense of belonging. He was different from the other boys in Sheffield. He spoke a different language and his English, though improving rapidly, was still inflected and accented differently. His was the round face and narrow eyes of the Slav. Yes, he was different, and the others at Emerson treated him as different. Oh, Robby and Ethan had done everything they could to be his friends and he was grateful. They had gotten over their excitement at meeting a real Russian and a descendent of Dmitri and Alexander Koronov; now, they treated him just as they would any other friend. Even Sean was warming to him. But, the others. There were still the comments behind his back, the insults to his face, the tripping in the hallway, stealing food off his tray in the cafeteria, all the myriad things that added up to the message that he wasn’t one of them. He was an outsider. He was different.
    Even in the Youth Orchestra, he was treated differently. They acted as if he were a star, a Koronov, a prodigy. Didn’t they understand that in the vigorous competition of music and school in the Soviet Union, he was just slightly above average? Couldn’t they understand that he just wanted to be “one of the guys?” Couldn’t they treat him as just another member of the orchestra?
    No. He was different. And, he always would be. Especially in one particular way that they would not know and could not understand. If these Americans, so wonderfully free and diverse in some ways, yet so strangely conformist and suspicious in others, only knew how truly different he really was, he would never be accepted. He’d probably even lose Robby and Ethan as friends.
    Which led his thoughts to… The Book.
    He wanted to read The Book again, that special passage. It had been so long since he had read it. Not since Prague. Not since he had read it to Stefan. His heart ached at the thought of Stefan, wonderful, noble, beautiful Stefan. How he missed his wisdom, he kindness, those beautiful afternoons playing the violin together, his hugs of friendship and encouragement. That’s what he missed.
    Ian was nice. He was not as old as Stefan, or as wise, or as kind. But, he was nice and he made Zhenya laugh and he gave him good advice on how to speak and act more American. But, he wasn’t Stefan.
    Zhenya stood and carried his book bag and his violin inside the house. He carried his things upstairs to his room and then returned downstairs. He went to the kitchen and prepared a glass of Nestles’ Quik and took it to the “parlor,” setting it on a coaster on a table by the front window. He turned on a lamp and walked to the bookshelf on which The Book rested. Carefully, he pulled it out and held it, running his fingers over the old red leather of the spine, and gazed reverently as if at a sacred relic. This book that had survived The Revolution, the Terror of Stalin, the Great Patriotic War, the disappearance of his beloved Uncle Misha, and, finally, the escape from Prague to the West, was almost a sacred relic for it held secrets, beautiful and terrible, his family had protected for decades.
    He moved to one of the chairs flanking the front window and sat down. He took a gulp of chocolate milk and then opened the book to a familiar page, the one he had read to Stefan. He marveled, as he always did, at the beautiful calligraphy, the almost perfect penmanship of the carefully written words, whose writer had known that this was as artistic a creation as the music he created.
    “Never in my eleven years had I known the joy, the love, and the peace of that moment, sitting in the snow-blanketed garden, held in the arms of my beloved Tolyenka, as he read the words of Pushkin to me, watching the sun set across the ice-covered pond, the frozen braches above sparkling like the Tsarina’s jewels.”

    Zhenya tried to picture in his mind the boy Dmitri in the arms of the handsome, gallant Anatoly, son of his father’s patron. He tried to place himself in the Russia of 1872, to imagine the glittering balls and the sparkling palaces of St. Petersburg, the dazzling yet dangerous world in which Dmitri Koronov found himself.
    Did Zhenya really want to be just like everyone else? Did he really want to be just another typical American boy? Or did he really dream of a world of beauty and romance and stunning emotion, when giants wrote and composed and painted, of the world in which the dashing Anatoly would pledge his undying love before leaving for the Tzar’s Military Academy.
    Zhenya leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. In his mind, he saw a drawing room in a grand palace, lit only by a roaring fire, music in the background and the vacuous chatter and laughter of adults. On a couch, the dashing young prince in his glittering uniform held the hand of the worshipful boy, his blond curls glowing golden in the firelight.
    He was startled from his dream by a knock at the front door. With a sigh, he placed the book on the table beside his milk and stood. As he entered the foyer, he could see through the thin curtain over the long window in the door the figure of Ian peering into the dark of the house.
    “Zhenyechka! Privyet!”
    Zhenya grinned and blushed as he looked downward. Only two other people in recent years had called him by the diminutive, his papa and his Stefan.
    “Come in, Ian.”
    “So, what’s happening?” Ian asked as he unzipped his windbreaker. Zhenya walked into the parlor and Ian followed.
    “I read old book.”
    “Ah, ah. Remember your articles. And, your contractions.”
    Zhenya blushed as he sat down.
    “I’m reading an old book.”
    “Cool,” said Ian as he sat in the chair opposite. “How was school today? Did you have a good day?”
    “I had a groovy day,” Zhenya replied with a grin.
    “Yeah, right. Well, I figured since we didn’t have practice today that maybe you might want to go out for a shake or something.”
    “What will we shake?”
    Ian giggled and Zhenya smiled, knowing he had just misunderstood another English idiom and wondering just how funny it sounded. He liked the way Ian’s black hair fell across his forehead and the way his ivory white teeth flashed as he grinned. He looked so handsome with his pale skin, his raven hair, and his blue eyes. The red sweater and gray slacks looked so perfect. Ian was different from Stefan, who seemed to revel in his rebellious jeans and t-shirts. Ian, on the other hand, seemed so proud of his fashionable perfection.
    “A milk shake. I thought we might go over to Dairy Queen and get a milk shake. So what are you reading?”
    Zhenya bit his lip. His family never discussed The Book. For so many years, it had been a matter of life and death, that even now, in the freedom of America, he felt fearful of mentioning it. He paused and Ian looked carefully at it.
    “It looks beautiful. How old is it?”
    “The book is almost a hundred years, but the writing is fifty years.”
    “What do you mean?”
    Zhenya paused. He remembered the moment that he had revealed the secret of The Book to Stefan, the near reverence he had shown. Would Ian understand?
    “It was empty book… it was an empty book with no writing. My grandfather’s uncle wrote in it the story of his life before he died.”
    Ian’s eyes grew wide.
    “His memoirs? This is Dmitri Koronov’s memoirs? His handwritten memoirs?”
    Zhenya nodded.
    Ian’s eyes were wide with shock.
    “Do you know what you have here?”
    Zhenya smiled.
    “I mean,” Ian continued in amazement, “there are scholars, and universities, and publishers that would kill for this!”
    Zhenya looked down at his lap.
    “The police did kill my Uncle Misha for it. They sent him to gulag because he would not give it to them and then said he destroyed it.”
    Ian looked at the book on the table as if he had found a stack of gold bars. Zhenya was not entirely comfortable with the look; he could not discern if it was one of greed or reverence.
    “May I?” Ian said, holding out his hands. Zhenya nodded. Ian gingerly lifted the book from the table and held it respectfully in his hands. He carefully opened the cover. On the first thick and yellowed page, he saw the careful and neat handwriting, the formal Cyrillic letters which he knew spelled, “Dmitri Petrovich Koronov,” and the date underneath, 1920.
    “He finished this the year he died,” said Ian softly.
    “He killed himself the night he finished it.”
    Ian looked up in surprise.
    “I thought Dmitri Koronov died of food poisoning.”
    Zhenya shook his head.
    “No. He took arsenic. It is on the last page. His suicide note.”
    Ian turned to the last page. The writing was not as neat and clear.
    “I don’t know enough Russian to read this and I can’t make out the old-fashioned handwriting. Can you read this to me?”
    Zhenya took a breath and replied, “No. But, I will read you something else.”
    He held his hands out and Ian handed him the book. Zhenya stood and walked over to the couch in the center of the room. He sat down in the center and patted the spot beside him and smiled shyly.
    “Sit here.”
    Ian sat beside him and, his hands folded politely in his lap, looked over at the open book.
    Zhenya looked nervously at the teenager and then down at the page. He read the section to Ian that he had just read to himself, slowly and carefully translating the passage into English. When he was finished, Ian leaned back and smiled.
    “That’s beautiful. He was only eleven?”
    Zhenya nodded.
    “Who was Tolyenka? Was old was she?”
    Zhenya looked evenly at Ian and slowly replied, carefully watching his reaction, “Prince Anatoly. He was eighteen. He was about to enter the Military Academy in St. Petersburg.”
    Ian’s eyes grew slightly wider as he looked carefully at Zhenya.
    “He was in love with… the Prince?”
    Zhenya took another breath, not certain whether Ian was surprised more by the title “Prince” or that Tolyenka was a young man.
    “There were many with the title ‘Prince,’ but there was only one Tsarivich. He wasn’t the Tsarivich.”
    Ian nodded and Zhenya could see he had other questions but was hesitant to ask.
    “He was Prince Anatoly Milakhov. His father was the patron of Dmitri’s father, my, um, my grandfather’s grandfather.”
    “So, your great-great-grandfather was a composer, too?”
    Zhenya nodded.
    “And, Dmitri and Anatoly… loved each other?”
    Again, Zhenya nodded.
    “They were… gay?”
    Zhenya smiled.
    “I think they were very happy.”
    “No, I mean… they were… homosexuals?”
    Zhenya looked confused.
    “Nye ponimayu.”
    It was Ian’s turn to swallow uncertainly.
    “Um… they, they loved each other the way a man and a woman love each other?”
    Zhenya was suddenly nervous. He clutched The Book tightly and nodded once. Ian said nothing, but watched the boy. Zhenya looked so sweet, so nervous. Ian fought the urge to reach across and wrap his arm around the boy’s shoulder.
    “I think that’s beautiful.”
    Zhenya slowly looked up and saw the smile on Ian’s face. He sighed with relief and turned back to The Book.
    “This is the poem Prince Anatoly was reading to him. It’s by Alexander Pushkin.”
    Ian smiled encouragingly.
“Ya pomnyu chudnoye mnovyenye:
Pyeryednuh mnoy yavilac tuii,
Kak mimolyetnoye vidyenye,
Kak genii chistoi kracotuii.”

    Ian touched Zhenya’s shoulder.
    “Could you translate? You speak English better than I speak Russian.”
    Zhenya smiled.
    “I remember… wonderful moment, you have appeared… in my sight, like short and… um… short prediction? Um… omen. Pure ghost in amazing light. Um, something about jail and sadness, in hurry of loud parade, I heard your voice soft and pretty voice, and dreamed of your… um… expressions I love.”
    “It sounds beautiful. I wish I understood Russian well enough to enjoy it in Russian.”
    “I wish I could speak English good enough to make it as pretty in English as it is in Russian.”
    “I think you did a wonderful job of translating.”
    Ian gave the boy a sweet smile and placed his left hand on the boy’s shoulder.
    “I think it’s a beautiful story about Dmitri and Tolyenka.”
    “You do?” Zhenya asked softly.
    “Yes. I think they were very lucky to find love that way.”
    “Dmitri wrote The Winter Garden Suite as a praise to Prince Anatoly. He never told anyone, though. He only wrote about it in here.”
    The two boys smiled at each other and Ian ran his fingers through the front of Zhenya’s soft hair.
    “Zhenyechka, why did you want to read this particular passage to me?”
    Zhenya hesitated. Suddenly, his hands were trembling. He bit his lip and looked at The Book. The touch of Ian’s hand in his hair and across his forehead sent a chill through him, a chill he had not known for over a year, not since Prague, not since Stefan.
    “I…”
    Suddenly Ian jerked his hand back as the sound of footsteps crossing the wooden front porch echoed across the living room. Zhenya’s flushed face looked toward the foyer. He quickly closed The Book and stood, hurrying toward the shelf. However, he was not able to put it in its place before his father had opened the front door and was peaking into the living room.
    “Zhenyechka! Ah, there is my boy! And, Ian. What a pleasant surprise.”
    Dr. Koronov entered the room and then looked with suspicion at his son.
    “Zhenya, you are holding Dmitri’s Book,” he said in Russian. “Why is that?”
    “I was showing it to Ian, Papa.”
    “You know I do not want you to read the book. It is not for boys to read. And, it is dangerous to tell others of the book.”
    Ian was able to understand only parts of the conversation as the father and son spoke in their mother tongue; but, he knew enough to understand that Dr. Koronov was not pleased.
    “It’s not Zhenya’s fault, sir,” he interceded. “I asked Zhenya about it and, sort of insisted he show it to me. I’m sorry.”
    Dr. Koronov looked at Ian and smiled, though he knew that the teenager was covering for the boy.
    “Very well. But, I ask you, Ian, to tell no one about this book. Please. You do not know the history of this book and the danger that surrounds it.”
    Ian could imagine, if the KGB sent Zhenya’s uncle to the concentration camp over it.
    “You don’t need to worry, Dr. Koronov. You can trust me.”
    But, Ian carefully watched Zhenya replace the book on the shelf.


000


    Robby stood at the top of the stairs and listened. He could hear his mother in the living room introducing the babysitter and his brother and sister. He could hear a man’s voice, though he couldn’t distinguish the words. He was not ready for this. He had known that, eventually, the time would come when he would have to meet one of the men his mother saw, but he just hadn’t expected it this evening. Nervously he adjusted the backpack over his shoulders and zipped up his windbreaker.
    “Robby!” his mother called sweetly from the living room. “Why don’t you come downstairs and meet a friend!”
    He rolled his eyes. She wasn’t going to let her date see the real  Caroline McDonnell, at least, not yet.
    “Coming,” he replied as he slowly stepped down. Step by step, as if he were descending to a punishment, he moved down the stairs. He looked to the left as he descended and saw him standing in the doorway to the living room. Brown slacks, brown plaid sport coat, white shirt, no tie, hands in his pockets.
    “Mom says you played baseball!” Brian was asking excitedly.
    “Yeah, I played a little ball in the army. You a ball player?”
    “I’m signing up in the spring!”
    “All right! We’ll get along just fine!”
    Deep, masculine voice. Robby already hated him.
    He reached the foyer and his mother turned, giving him a warning look. He took a breath and smiled politely as the man turned.
    Short, dark hair, shiny, combed back. Dark eyes. Dark smile.
    “Well, hey. You’re Robert?”
    “Robin. Robby.”
    “Robin? I think I like Robby, better.”
    The man took Robby’s hand and shook it hard. Robby tried to give him a good, firm handshake; he felt as if the man were testing him.
    “Robby, this is Frank,” said his mother.
    “Pleased to meet you.”
    The man watched Robby with amusement and then said jovially, “Well, aren’t you formal?”
    “Robby!” his brother shouted. “Frank played baseball in the army!”
    “That’s cool,” said Robby politely.
    “So, you play?” Frank asked.
    Before Robby could reply, though, his mother said, “Robby’s more a brain than an athlete.”
    “Well, we’ll take care of that, won’t we? Every boy needs to play something.”
    Robby forced a smile and looked at his mother.
    “Mom, I ‘m late. I gotta go. Ethan’s mom said dinner’s at six-thirty.”
    “Hey, what’s the hurry?” said Frank with mock hurt in his voice. Robby could hear the mocking in his voice.
    “He lives over at his friend’s,” said his mother sourly.
    Robby waved as he moved toward the front door.
    “It was nice to meet you,” he said to Frank. “I’ll see ya around.”
    “Yep,” the man said in an even voice. “You sure will.”
    Robby noted the hint of a warning and their eyes met. Frank held his eyes a moment more than necessary and then smiled as he turned back to Brian and Megan. Robby opened the door and stepped outside. As he was closing it, he heard Frank say to Brian, “Buddy, you and I are gonna be great friends!”
    Robby trudged across the front yard toward the sidewalk, kicking the orange and red leaves in the grass viciously aside, his fists jammed angrily in the pockets of his windbreaker. A chilly wind tossed his hair across his forehead and over his ears. He looked up at the gathering clouds and the dimming light and felt a dark rage and foreboding.
    Sean and his grandfather were pulling out of their driveway onto 18th St. in front of the school as Robby approached the corner. He forced a smile as the pale green and cream Studebaker slowly turned the corner onto Sycamore. The elderly man gave a warm smile to Robby and he saw Sean climb up on the passenger side and wave cheerfully. Apparently, Robby thought as he waved back, Ethan must have made Sean feel better.
    Ethan. He was good at making people feel better. Robby needed to talk to Ethan about this, but he felt guilty constantly dumping his troubles on his friend. Ethan was so patient and understanding; yet, Robby knew he had to get tired of his constant whining. Robby tried to meditate the way Ethan had taught him, to let go of the anger and pain he so often felt; but, too often when he tried to clear his mind, he focused on the issue that was bothering him and his efforts had the opposite effect of what he was trying to achieve. It was like trying NOT to think about an elephant. You had to think of the elephant to try NOT to think of the elephant.
    The sky was completely overcast as he walked past Zhenya’s house, where Robby saw no lights on inside. There was something about Zhenya’s innocence and naiveté, his gentle demeanor, that always seemed to soften the edge of Robby’s mood. Robby wondered why Zhenya seemed so peaceful, considering the dangers he had faced and the fears he had known, when Robby was so full of constant anger and irritation.
    It seemed to have gotten quite a bit cooler by the time he reached Providence. There was a dampness in the air that seemed to make the chill particularly biting. He wished he had worn a more substantial jacket as he darted across the busy thoroughfare during a break in the traffic.
    A tall, lanky teenager with blond hair rode past him on a Schwinn ten-speed as he ran his fingers through the chain-link fence around Lake Windermere. The guy turned and waved, leaning downward on his ram’s-horn handlebars. He looked familiar. Robby felt distinctly funny as he uncertainly waived back. The goofy grin, however, reminded him that this was the teenager who had laughed good-naturedly at him when he tripped on the sidewalk on Labor Day. It was a moment before Robby realized that the feeling was arousal and that he was getting hard. The guy was hot and as he rode on, Robby watched his butt flow back and forth in the air as the guy pumped the pedals on his bike. It was seldom that Robby felt that way looking at older guys, the way he did when he thought of Ethan, (or, guiltily, of some of the boys in gym class), and it lent an urgency to his walking as he approached Ethan’s house and, later, as Ethan and he were eating the carry-out pizza Mrs. Spencer had brought home before leaving for her evening out.
    “I don’t really feel like backgammon tonight,” Robby said as they entered Ethan’s room after dinner. Allison had left on her date with Chad and Ethan’s mother was gone, leaving the house to the boys.
    “You look like a lot is bothering you,” said Ethan. “You want to talk?”
    “Yeah, but later,” Robby replied. “I’m horny. Let’s do it,” he said with a nasty grin.
    “Good idea,” said Ethan. “I have something I want to talk about and something I want to show you. This way, we can get past the crazy horny and then really take our time.”
    Quickly, the boys stripped off their clothes, dropping them on the floor where they stood, and jumped on the bed, their rigid erections waving stiffly in the air as they sat down in the center facing each other. They wrapped their legs around each other’s hips and leaned forward, kissing deeply and thrusting their tongues into each other’s mouth as their hands eagerly grasped the other and wildly stroked. They sighed and groaned into each other’s mouth, squirming and working their hips around as the feelings of lust grew. Robby could tell Ethan was getting close as his moaning became higher pitched.
    “You wanna stop?” he asked.
    “No,” Ethan gasped. “Do it!”
    “Oh, yeah.” Robby breathed. “Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah!”
    Ethan’s body suddenly stiffened and his grip tightened on Robby’s boner, sending his friend into a frenzy. Ethan cried out and began to squirt all over Robby’s and his tummies, some even landing on Robby’s dick. That seemed to be enough to thrust Robby over the edge and he came, as well, his thinner, clearer ejaculate oozing out over Ethan’s tightly gripping hand. Ethan’s pumping had become erratic during his orgasm and Robby cried, “Don’t stop!” Quickly, Ethan pumped until both boys sighed and their heads fell together.
    It was several minutes, as the boys panted and heartbeats slowed, before Ethan whispered, “God, Robby, you are so hot.”
    “Oh, that feels so good,” Robby breathed. “God, I love doing this with you.”
    The two smiled at each other and Ethan leaned forward, giving his friend a peck on the lips.
    “So, what’s got you upset tonight?”
    Robby looked down at the still hard boners between them.
    “Mom introduced us to this guy she’s dating. I think they’re serious. He’s a jerk. I can already tell and I can already tell that he doesn’t like me.”
    “Aw, come on. You just met him.”
    “No, I can tell. He played baseball in the army and when Mom said I was a ‘brain’ and didn’t play baseball, he said he’d take care of that.”
    Ethan shrugged.
    “He could have just been being friendly. Most boys like baseball.”
    “You didn’t see the look in his face. Our eyes met and I could see what he was thinking.”
    Ethan shook his head.
    “Don’t predict the future. He probably is a jerk, but you don’t know for sure. Besides, maybe your mom will dump him.”
    Robby frowned.
    “It’s not just that he’s a jerk. It’s that I don’t want another Dad. If I can’t have my real Dad, I don’t want anyone.”
    Ethan sighed and raised his right hand to hold Robby’s face.
    “I know it’s not the same when your parents get a divorce, ‘cause your dad’s still alive and you get to see him on holidays. But, I know I’d feel pretty weird if Mom got married again and I had to get used to a step-father. I know you loved your dad, but you got to know that your mom’s probably going to get married again.”
    “I know,” Robby muttered. “I just don’t want her to yet. I just wish she’d wait a little longer.”
    Ethan wrapped his arms around Robby and the two held each other, Ethan sending his love to his friend through his hug. After a long moment, Robby sighed and leaned back.
    “So, what’s your deal? Why were you so weird this afternoon?”
    Ethan took a deep breath.
    “Sean has made a deal with Matt Hunter.”
    Immediately, Robby looked with suspicion.
    “What kind of deal?”
    Ethan licked his lips and took another breath.
    “Matt offered to protect Sean from any bullying if Sean… would… well, help him out with… well, you know…”
    Robby had never seen Ethan at a loss for words. He looked at him curiously and then saw Ethan’s had gesture.
    “Beating off?” he said with shock.
    Ethan nodded. Robby’s eyes grew wide and Ethan could see the first hints of anger in them.
    “Matt is promising not to bully Sean if Sean beats him off?”
    Ethan sighed.
    “Kind of. If Sean helps him get off, he keeps the bullies off him.”
    “That’s disgusting! Where does Matt live? I’m gonna go over there in the morning and beat the snot out of him!”
    “Calm down. It’s not as bad as it seems!”
    “Calm down? He’s blackmailing Sean for sex! I didn’t even know Matt was like that. I mean, the sex thing with, you know, a guy. I mean I knew he was kind of tough and everything and I figured he could be a bully if he really tried. But, man, this is disgusting! Sean is like the sweetest guy in the world! We can’t let him do this! We have to do something!”
    Robby was red in the face and his fists were tightly clenched. Ethan grinned.
    “Man, when you get worked up…”
    “Well, of course I’m worked up! Why aren’t you? This is outrageous. And, if you tell me that we have to just meditate, I’m gonna…”
    “Calm down. It’s not what you think.”
    Robby was breathing hard and clenching his teeth. Ethan smiled and kissed his cheek.
    “I think that in Matt’s weird, tough guy kind of way, that he might really be trying to be Sean’s friend. I think he likes Sean and he doesn’t know how else to do it without feeling like a fag. He’s not forcing Sean to do it. Sean told me. He said that, in a way, he kind of likes it.”
    Robby looked frustrated.
    “This is just not right. Sean’s a good guy. He shouldn’t have to beat off a bully to be safe.”
    “Well, I agree, but I talked with him and I made him promise me that if he had any problems, he would tell us. And, I think he will. And, I think Matt will basically take care of him.”
    “How do you know?”
    “Well, after school, I watched Sean sneak out the side door and head over to the bleachers. So I followed and I heard Matt and him doing it.”
    Despite his anger, Robby’s dick twitched and rose back up to a full boner.
    “What were they doing?” he asked softly.
    Ethan was hard again, too, and his hands were trembling. Ethan often became intensely aroused with Robby, but there was something about the anticipation of what he was about to do that seemed to really affect him.
    “I’ll show you. Actually, it was Sean doing it to Matt. Matt doesn’t do anything to Sean, but he let’s Sean beat off while he’s doing it.”
    Robby was breathing hard and he felt that something new and exciting was about to happen.
    “Lay down,” said Ethan softly. He crawled back and stood up on his knees to the side. Robby lay back, stretching in his legs out before Ethan, his three inch boner bobbing stiffly above his tummy, his arms laying stiffly at his side, fists clenched with anticipation.
    Ethan crawled back toward his pillows and then faced Robby. He reached down to Robby’s feet and spread his legs wide before crawling forward. Robby felt a surge as he saw Ethan looking down at his pulsing dick.
    “What are you going to do?” he breathed.
    Ethan smiled nervously and leaned over, placing his left elbow on the bed beside Robby’s hip for support. Ethan’s face was just inches above Robby’s boner. Robby’s eyes grew wide as he watched Ethan’s face hovering. He felt Ethan’s warm breath on his dick and he gasped. He had never felt such a sense of anticipation.
    Slowly, Ethan’s lips came down to just an inch above Robby’s dick. He paused, admiring close up the penis that he had loved fondling for more than a month. Suddenly, there was no doubt in his mind about what he wanted.
    He leaned down and kissed the sensitive area on Robby’s dick underneath the head.
    Robby moaned. Ethan left his lips unmoving for a long moment and then kissed again and again, his own dick pulsing between his legs as Robby’s seemed to jump with each kiss.
    “You’re kissing my dick!”
    Robby was stunned. It felt so good, so much better than Ethan’s jacking. He was amazed.
    Ethan tongue emerged from between his lips and he let it press against the same spot. The wet, hot, living, moving tongue on his dick sent a cry from Robby’s throat as he watched in stunned amazement.
    Ethan moved down to the base of Robby’s dick and slowly licked up the solid shaft to the head. Robby’s hips thrust upward, forcing the dick hard against Ethan’s tongue.
    “Oh, my God. You’re licking my dick. Oh, you’re licking my dick! Oh, my God, it feels so good!”
    Robby could feels Ethan’s hot, jagged breath on his dick, his balls, and his tummy as his friend continued to loving lick the throbbing boner in his face. He could hear soft, high-pitched whimpering as he started licking faster and harder, treating his dick like a popsicle. Ethan was licking the sides now and running his dick around and over the head, making Robby squirm and cry.
    Just when Robby thought he could feel nothing better, Ethan scooted back and breathed on his balls.
    “Gyaaaaa”, Robby moaned, before gasping. Ethan watched Robby’s oval balls. One seemed bigger and lower than the other and they were churning in their pink sack.
    “God, your balls are so beautiful,” he whispered. Slowly, he lowered his face and stuck out his tongue. It touched the bigger, lower ball and Robby cried out again. Ethan licked it all over, running his tongue completely around the ball and watching as it seemed to tighten up. He then licked the other and it pulled up as well.
    Robby was writhing like a mad boy beneath Ethan’s frantic licking, muttering nonsensical sounds as his head rolled and his hands desperately clutched at the bedspread beneath them. Ethan’s tongue licked inside the area between Robby’s balls and his thighs, causing even more ecstatic writhing and twisting. His tongue went below Robby’s balls and licked the little ridge that ran from his balls back. Robby almost screamed.
    “Oh, Ethan! Oh, my God! Sean does this to Matt? Oh, my God, I can’t believe it. Oh, I can’t believe how good this feels! Lick my dick again! Please, lick my dick!”
    Ethan smiled and reached up with his right hand. He took Robby’s dick in his fingers and pulled it back until it was standing up perpendicular to his body. He leaned down and saw a clear drop of Robby juice in the slit. His hand trembling, and Robby watching with eyes wide, his tongue licked the drop and Robby cried out. Ethan licked the head all over and then, to Robby’s shock, he opened his mouth and took the head in.
    Robby couldn’t believe what he was seeing or feeling. He looked in open-mouthed, wide-eyed wonder. He was unable to utter a sound, unable to breathe as Ethan slowly moved his lips downward, enveloping Robby’s rigid dick in his hot, wet mouth, his writhing tongue sliding down the sensitive underside until the head was pushing against the back of his throat.
    Robby took Ethan’s face in his hands and held it, caressing the smooth skin of his cheeks, running his fingers over the tightly pulled-back hair. Ethan groaned as he held Robby’s dick in deep in his mouth. He released his hand on Robby’s dick and reached back between his legs to grasp his own boner. He felt the thick coating of ooze on the head and he began desperately to stroke and pump his boner.
    He pulled up on Robby’s dick until just the head was in his mouth and then plunged down again. This time, it was too much for Robby. He did scream. The feeling was too much. His entire body was stiff. He inhaled as Ethan pulled back again and, as Ethan plunged down a third time, it happened. He screamed again and thrust his hips upward, grabbing Ethan’s head and forcing his dick into Ethan’s throat. Ethan started to gag as he felt the taste of Robby’s cum in his throat and on his tongue. Robby was fucking his mouth and then, after three or four thrusts relaxed as his climax wound down.
    Robby’s cum in his mouth was almost all Ethan needed to go over the edge himself. As soon as Robby’s spasms died, he released his friend’s dick and sat up on his calves, releasing his dick just a second before the first throbbing spurt would have shot out. He held his hands out and gazed down, gasping, his mouth and eyes both open wide as his rigid, throbbing boner pulsed between his legs.
    “Suck me!” he cried. “Please!”
    Robby was still recovering from the most mind-blowing orgasm he had ever experienced. He lay beneath Ethan, gasping, his eyes glazed over as he relaxed.
    “Suck me!” Ethan begged.
    He sat back on his pillows, resting his back against the headboard and spreading his legs wide.
    “Please Robby! Please! Suck my dick!”
    Robby grinned between breaths and struggled to sit up. Resting a hand on one of Ethan’s feet, he crawled up between Ethan’s legs and brought his face to Ethan’s dick. Ethan groaned as he felt Robby’s warm and moist breath on his balls. Robby gazed in loving wonder at the balls tightly snug beneath Ethan’s dick, at the small tuft of silky dark blond hair at the very base of his dick. He reached forward and ran a finger through it.
    “Oh, God, please! Suck me!”
    Robby stuck out his tongue and did as Ethan had done to him, bathing Ethan’s balls in his saliva, lovingly licking all around the balls and along the ridge of skin leading back from his balls. Ethan clutched the pillows beneath his naked butt, desperate not to grab his boner and beat himself over the edge. He was crying and groaning with each swipe of Robby’s tongue.
    For his own part, Robby was becoming wild again. His boner was still as hard and pulsating as it had been before. He reached down and felt the sensitive head. It was still too early to beat off again, but he held it and fondled it as his tongue moved up and began to lick Ethan’s dick.
    “Aaaaaaaa!” cried Ethan. He was squirming beneath Robby’s frantically licking tongue. Robby made no slow licks, as Ethan had to him. He licked as if he were starving for Ethan’s dick.
    “Nnng! Nnng! Nnng!” Ethan whimpered. “Suck it! Please, Robby! Suck it!”
    Robby opened his mouth and took in the head of Ethan’s dick. He held it there for a moment, running his tongue all across the sensitive head and making Ethan cry out and jerk, almost in pain. Then he plunged down, taking the bigger, longer dick as far into his mouth as he could. He brought his nose near the silky hair and held the iron-like, throbbing penis before pulling back.
    “Aaaaaaaa!” Ethan cried again. Robby plunged down again and again. Ethan threw his head back.
    “I’m gonna cum!”
    He grabbed Robby’s head. In a split second, Robby was shocked to realize that Ethan was going to shoot into his mouth and then realized that he wanted it, desperately. He plunged again and again and Ethan screamed, his body becoming stiff and then writhing and bucking frantically.
    The first shot surprised Robby. It was bitter, but by the second, and then the third, he realized he loved it. It was Ethan’s cum. Ethan was cuming in his mouth! Ethan! Was cuming! In his mouth!
    What better way could Robby show he loved Ethan? He was thrilled and wildly horny again.
    Suddenly, Ethan cried in pain.
    “Stop! I can’t take it anymore!”
    Robby pulled back, holding Ethan’s cum in his mouth, grinning. Ethan collapsed back against the headboard, gasping. After moment, he opened his eyes, his head rolling to the side, and grinned breathlessly at Robby. He held out his left arm.
    “Come here,” he said weakly. Robby smiled and crawled up beside him. They wrapped their arms around each other and rested their heads on each other.
    They said nothing. Neither needed to. Holding each other spoke more than words could have.
    And, at that moment, as another boy lay in bed and dreamt of glittering dances and deep romance, and yet another yearned to be held and loved, Robby and Ethan became one.


And, so, you have Chapter Seven. I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think at my new email address: fthinker@ gmail.com. Thank you for reading my story and for your support!